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joelscruff · 1 year ago

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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART NINE

previous chapters | welp. hey everybody, it's been a little while since this updated, huh? those who follow me will know i haven't been having the best time lately and had to put this fic on hold for a little bit. but finally an update is here, and i'm so excited to share it with you. thank you so much for being so patient and lovely. i also wanna give a huge shoutout to han @swiftispunk who's been there for me relentlessly throughout this rough period and who kept encouraging me whenever i thought this would never get written. i couldn't ask for a better writing buddy & friend, ilysm. i hope you guys like this chapter and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕 chapter summary: joel is taking you away for the weekend, which only means one thing: your v card is going bye-bye. rating: 18+ explicit warnings for this chapter: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, tummy bulge, oral (f receiving), catholic guilt, panic attacks, phone sex, mutual masturbation, lap sitting, lingerie, fingering, there is so much goin on pls lmk if i forgot smth word count: 25k (what the fuck) ao3

It's crazy how one weekend can change everything.

After days of feeling like shit and wanting - or forcing yourself to want - absolutely nothing to do with Joel anymore, you'd wound up naked in bed together. An ironic twist to the men ain't shit mantra you and Tasha had been trying to live by for the past forty eight hours. You'd laid with your head on his chest, exhausted and sated, listening to his and your own equally haggard breathing slow to a quiet thrum of background noise. You'd kissed the spot above his nipple, soft and warm against your lips as he carded his fingers through your hair and peppered kisses all along the crown of your head.

"So you're taking me away, huh?" you'd asked him in the heavenly afterglow of your orgasms, still tangled together under the sheets.

He'd smiled sleepily, squeezed you tighter in his arms and pulled you in as close as he could, "I'm takin' you away," he'd promised quietly, "Just you n' me. Gonna make this right."

Unbeknownst to him, everything had already become right again the moment he'd walked through the bedroom door.

Tasha had come back about an hour after you'd finished, roused you both from a quick nap by knocking quietly at the door and saying, "Hate to bother you guys but we gotta be out of here by four and the place is a disaster." Looking down at the mascara stained pillowcase beneath your head, you'd known she was right.

A few hours later you'd stood at the airport once again, arms wrapped tightly around Tasha as you buried your face in her shoulder and thanked her over and over again for everything; for being there, for listening, for understanding, for texting Joel, everything.

"You're gonna make me cry," she'd mumbled in your ear, hugging you back just as tightly, "Please, I just did what a good friend does."

You'd hoped she knew that she's the first good friend you've ever had.

Just before she'd headed to her gate, she'd pulled something out of her purse and handed it to you discreetly, palm down. You'd glanced downward to see a little blue package, thin and rectangular.

"Start taking these tonight," she'd said softly, "Take one every day at the same time. Promise me."

"What is it?"

She'd rolled her eyes, "Oh, you sweet summer child."

You know what birth control is. You're not that clueless. You just.... haven't really seen it before.

Now, having a pack of it in your possession, in your bedroom of all places, hidden in one of your dresser drawers beneath socks and underwear... it somehow feels more scandalous than the bikini. More scandalous than Joel's flannel beneath your mattress. More scandalous than those short little dresses folded in a bag in the back of your closet.

Birth control means sex. If your parents found your clothing purchases or Joel's flannel you could probably get away with some kind of lie, an excuse. But if they found this.... you don't even want to think about what would happen.

Take one every day at the same time. Promise me.

You pop out a pill quickly before shoving the package back into your dresser, then hurry to the bathroom with it tucked in your palm, clasped tightly between your fingers. You take it quickly with a handful of water and then stare at your reflection in the mirror for a moment, eyes bright. You're expecting to feel an ounce of shame, some guilt creeping in - but you don't. Instead, you find yourself smiling, face going hot when you think about the reason why you're taking these in the first place.

"Dinner's ready!" you hear your mom call from downstairs, and you yank yourself away from the bathroom mirror before your thoughts can get any more X rated.

She hadn't said anything to you when you got home, but then again you hadn't really given her a chance to. Now you shuffle into the kitchen and take a seat at the table, eyeing her quietly and wondering if the silent treatment is over. Your father comes in from the living room before you can find out, taking his usual seat and giving you a stern look.

"I heard you spent the weekend with one of your college friends," he states.

You stare at him for a second, unsure what to really say. You settle for a shrug, "Uh, yeah. Just had a girls' weekend at an Airbnb."

"I'm just curious why you're making time for friends you'll be seeing again in September when there are people here you've barely even said hello to," he raises an eyebrow, squaring his shoulders, "You said the other week you'd be volunteering again, didn't you? Doing more things to better yourself?"

"Well, I helped out at Sunday School," you offer with a grimace, but you already know it's not enough.

"I'm not talking about helping out here and there every now and then," he shakes his head and eyes your mother as she walks over with two plates of dinner, places them in front of the both of you without making eye contact, "You need a weekly activity, something steady, right dear?"

Your mother's gaze flits to yours quickly as he says this and you know exactly what she's thinking without her having to say it: do not mention the guitar lessons. But what the fuck are you supposed to say? You get that she doesn't want your father knowing until your little "plan" has bore a little more fruit, but it isn't fair that he still thinks you need some kind of weekly activity to attend when you already have one. Or, at least, a cover for one.

Maybe your mother can solve this problem for you.

"Well, actually-" you begin, only bluffing, but she bangs the water jug on the table before you can continue.

"I'll work on it with her, don't worry," she says quickly, shaking her head at you as discreetly as she can, "We'll figure something out together."

As usual, your father is oblivious to anything amiss. He just nods and extends his hands to start the prayer, "Sounds good."

Dinner is the usual boring affair, barely any conversation to be had as your father scarfs it down and heads to his office, leaving you and your mother sitting at the table in silence. You poke absentmindedly at your broccoli, thinking about Joel - he wants to see you again tonight, maybe talk about some stuff, and you're not really sure how to feel about it yet; you want to know more about his ex wife, his daughter, want to understand him and his life a little better, but it also scares you a bit. Hearing about his relationship with another woman - a woman who clearly still has a prominent position in his life - it's gonna be a lot to take in.

He also wants to talk about taking you away - a much less scary thought.

"So, you had a good weekend?" your mom asks quietly, and you look up in surprise - you'd thought the silent treatment was still ongoing.

"Yeah, it was nice," you reply - simplistic and not a very true answer, but it's not like you can tell her about anything that happened.

"What did you do?"

You shrug again, "Just watched movies and hung out, talked about how our summers have been going," you take a bite of broccoli and hope she won't press it any further.

"Did you go to your lesson on Saturday?"

You nod quickly, swallowing and doing your best to keep eye contact, "Yep, I learned some new chords." Bullshit. "Mr. Miller is a really good teacher." Less bullshit.

She doesn't say anything else right away and you manage to completely finish your meal before she drops her fork and turns to you with a sigh. "I know what you're thinking and no, I still haven't told your father about it. I already explained why-"

"Because you don't want him getting involved before I've made progress, I know."

"So have you? Been making progress?"

Oh, the things you could say in response to that question. "I think I have. He's, um... he's been very interested in the hymns."

"Which ones are you learning?"

Oh fuck.

"It's a surprise," you say quickly, flashing her a fake smile, "Don't wanna jinx it, ya know?"

Her brows furrow but she doesn't question it, nodding slowly and taking a deep breath as she grabs both your plates and walks to the sink. You sit there for a moment, not wanting to get up until you know for sure the conversation is over.

"So it's working, you think?" she finally asks, turning on the tap and rinsing the dishes, "You're helpin' him?"

You swallow, thankful she's not looking at you as your hands ball into fists against the wood of the table, "Yes," you lie quietly, "Definitely."

"You need to teach me a hymn," is the first thing you say to Joel that night as you walk through his front door, passing right by him without so much as a hug, "Or two. Two hymns, maybe three, I don't know."

"Hello to you too," he says with a chuckle, shutting the door and walking over to you to wrap his arms around you from behind, "S'wrong? You alright?"

You have to admit, being wrapped in his arms certainly does make the anxiety ebb away. You close your eyes and lean back into his grasp, sighing deeply and trying to ground yourself as best you can. Ever since that conversation with your mother you feel like your brain has been working on overdrive, reminding you over and over that you're so fucking behind on what you're meant to be doing to keep this façade intact.

"I'm just stressed," you mutter, "My mom asked about the lessons and I didn't know what to say and now I'm all up in my own head again as usual."

You feel him tuck his head against your shoulder, squeeze you tighter, "Hey, it's okay," he murmurs, breath so warm against your ear it makes you shiver, "We'll find a couple easy ones and I'll teach you. You can borrow my guitar too, practice at home."

"My dad still doesn't know," you sigh, "She's waiting for me to have some sort of breakthrough with you to tell him."

He snorts, "And what exactly does this 'breakthrough' look like?"

"I don't know, a pool of golden light? Heavenly angels singing praise?"

He chuckles against your skin, pressing a kiss there, "Well, that'll be easy. That happens every time I make you come."

You feel your cheeks bloom with heat, lips tightening into a bashful smile as he pulls you in closer and noses your ear once again, scruff tickling the skin there. You hum contentedly, pretending for a moment that your parents aren't involved on the sidelines of this relationship, that their opinions don't matter and there doesn't need to be any sort of ulterior reason for your being here - then you remember that you're going to have a whole weekend to pretend that's the case, and you smile wider.

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his torso and peering up at him. He's so handsome as usual, hair messy, eyes brown and deep. It's impossible not to lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips, so of course you do, eyes closing as you melt against his mouth. He kisses you back just as soft, rubs your back gently as he holds you close.

"I'm so sorry, angel," he murmurs quietly against your lips, and you find yourself pulling away to look at him in confusion.

"For what?"

He shakes his head, eyes sad, "For everythin' I put you through this weekend, all that added stress," you go to interrupt but he brings one of his hands up to gently press his finger to your lips, stopping you, "Don't tell me not to apologize. I did wrong by you. I wanna fix it."

You swallow, remembering the woman at the bar - his ex wife, remembering the way he'd smiled before he kissed her, the way those soft brown eyes looking at you right now had looked directly into hers as well...

Your stomach twists uncomfortably.

"I meant what I said, about tellin' you everything," he murmurs, "I want... I want you to know me, ya know? I..." he breathes deeply, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours, "God, I'm not good at this."

"Good at what?" you whisper, and you feel him shrug in your embrace.

"Just.... bein' open."

You pull back a bit to peer at him again, feeling your stomach unclench when you see that unsure look on his face, the worry lines prominent on his forehead and those plump lips downturned into a frown. He's still afraid he's lost you, you can tell.

"Well, I wanna hear what you have to say," you murmur, "I do wanna learn more about you. But it's okay, Joel. I'm not heartbroken, not anymore."

He winces at your words, "But you were," he closes his eyes again, "You were heartbroken, baby. I hurt you. We... she -" he cuts himself off to sigh, "She didn't know about you when she kissed me, alright? I hadn't told her, and that's on me."

Oh. You didn't know that.

"Why... why didn't you tell her?"

"Because I was a coward," he says immediately, "I didn't... I wasn't..." he takes another deep breath and pulls away from you, unlocking himself from your embrace to grip your arms in both his hands, "Okay," he breathes, "I'm really bad at this, darlin', forgive me if it comes out weird."

You're not sure what he's about to say but you can feel your heart beginning to beat faster in your chest as he stands there looking at you, brow furrowed as if he's completely out of his element, and you suppose he is.

"I haven't... god, I don't wanna scare you but..." he chews his lip for a moment, lost in thought, "I just... I meant it, when I said that I think about you all the time. I really, really meant it."

You stare at him for a moment, processing his words. What is he saying? That he didn't tell his ex wife about you because of how much he thinks about you? How does that make sense? You silently curse yourself for your naivety, your inexperience with relationships. You're sure if Tasha was here she'd be able to tell you exactly what he means.

You're about to ask him to elaborate when you suddenly catch a glimpse of something on the mantel of the fireplace, something that you can't recall ever seeing before. Your eyes go slightly wide and he notices immediately, following your gaze.

"Oh," he says quietly, "Um, yeah, I... I put up some pictures."

His grip on your arms releases when he realizes you want to get a closer look. You make your way over to the fireplace with careful steps, eyeing the framed photograph in front of you as it slowly comes more into focus.

It's Joel - a much younger Joel. You're not sure how young, but there are no signs of age on his face, skin smooth and bare and hair trimmed neatly beneath a baseball cap. He's standing behind a swing, pushing an adorable little toddler in front of him, a big smile on her face as she kicks her chubby legs high into the air.

You stare at it for a long time without saying anything, warmth bursting through your chest the longer your gaze flicks from him to the baby, the baby to him. There's something in her brown eyes, something recognizable, and you realize it's because they're his eyes.

You're looking at his daughter.

"What's her name?" you finally ask, voice soft.

"Sarah," he replies - he sounds close behind you but he doesn't touch you, doesn't make any move to embrace you again, just lets you absorb the information in your own time.

"Sarah," you repeat quietly, thoughtfully, "How old is she there?"

"Few days before her second birthday," he says, and you swear you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, "Installed that swing set in the backyard for her as a present, but I couldn't wait 'til her birthday to show her - I was too excited."

You smile at his words, feeling fondness flood your thoughts as your gaze falls back to the much younger Joel. He looks a little like the boys you've seen at college, extremely handsome but inexperienced, naïve, maybe even a little lost... kind of like you. You squint your eyes a bit, as if staring at him will help you figure out exactly how old he is.

"I'm twenty in that one," he answers for you.

Your eyebrows shoot up and you finally turn around to look at him, a look of shock prominent on your face. "But... that would mean you had her -"

"When I was eighteen, yeah," he gives you a wistful half smile, "Remember that 'trouble' I told you I got in right outta high school? The mysterious thing I did that got me disowned?" he gestures toward the photo with a light chuckle, "Well, there she is. Little Miss Trouble, Sarah Miller."

Your brow furrows. You remember what he'd said on his back deck that day, the way he'd stopped himself from revealing too much. He'd been so close to telling you, and yet...

"Why didn't you just tell me then?" you ask softly, "That day in your backyard, you... you coulda told me about her."

His smile fades into a frown, eyes going downcast, "I was afraid," he admits softly, "I didn't... I didn't want this to end so soon. I didn't wanna scare you off."

You feel a pang in your heart, a sensation of sadness that bubbles up within you as you peer at his melancholic expression, the shame in his eyes. He really thinks you're five seconds away from running out the door, leaving his life for good and forgetting this whole thing between the two of you even happened. You can see it in his expression, the way he's standing like he's small, the same way he'd looked last night when Tasha had tugged you out of his house and into a cab.

You make your way toward him, palm outstretched as you reach up and press it to the side of his face. His gaze comes up to meet yours, watery and sad and - god, he's beautiful. So, so beautiful.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whisper honestly, shaking your head and smiling softly, "Not before you teach me at least two hymns."

His frown breaks into a grin and he rolls his eyes, the tears spilling over a little bit as he sniffs and tries to pull himself together. You just bring your other hand up to fully cup his face, turning his head so he's looking directly into your eyes.

"I mean it, Joel," you breathe, and you think you're starting to understand what he meant, "You say you think about me all the time, but... I think about you all the time. I can't stop thinking about you," your voice quivers a bit and you feel tears begin to sting in your own eyes, "Even when I was trying to force myself not to think about you, I couldn't do it."

You thumb his cheeks lightly, feeling them tighten under your palms as he smiles again. You can't help but lean forward to brush your nose against his, closing your eyes.

"I think... I don't know, I just feel like-"

"I know," he interjects softly, "I feel it too, angel. Scares the hell outta me, doesn't even seem possible to feel it after such a short length of time, but I do."

You open your eyes to peer at him again, "Is that why you didn't tell her? 'Cause you were scared of how you feel?"

"Yes," he murmurs, "I knew if I told her... if I let myself really feel what I've been feelin'... I'd have to face the fact that I'd been dishonest with you, that I hadn't been showin' you my true self, ya know? And that's... that's always been hard for me." He takes a breath, "She was real sad that night. She... she was comin' on strong, cause she really needed somebody. And I almost gave myself to her, you should know that. I don't wanna lie to you."

It hurts to hear it, but at the same time you're glad he's telling you, glad he feels safe to express himself the same way you do with him.

"We weren't... we weren't official or anything," you mumble, eyes casting downward.

"No, we weren't," he agrees softly, "But it still wouldn't've been right, angel, not for you and not for me. I didn't want it, I just... I just felt for her, ya know? We've been doin' this thing so long, it can be hard to say no, especially when it's someone you care about."

"But you did."

He nods, "I did. And then I told her about you and she understood."

You peer up at him again, unsure, "She understood? Really?"

He smiles, "She understood, sweetheart. She's a good person, I promise. But I also promise that I don't feel things for her the way I used to, not anymore. And our arrangement is over." He blinks away a few tears, locking his eyes with yours again, "Do you believe me?"

You nod slowly, taking in his words. You find that you do believe him, don't even question a word of what he's saying to you. It should probably scare you to trust him this much, to wholeheartedly sense nothing but earnestness from his demeanor and words, but it doesn't. It feels good to hear him say these things and to know that he means it, that he's finally being himself.

"So who are you then, really?" you ask softly, "Who's this whole other Joel Miller I've been missing out on?"

He laughs lightly, bumping his nose against yours, "Well, darlin'... he's old and he's boring, keeps to himself, works too much..." he takes a breath, then meets your gaze again, eyes soft and tender, "And he's fuckin' crazy about you."

His words embed themselves into your brain almost immediately, sending tingles up and down your spine as your arms come up to wrap around him and pull him into a kiss. He seems surprised by your response but only for a moment, then wraps his own arms around you and pulls you in as close as he can, cradles you as he kisses you back with that familiar warmth and safety you've always felt with him.

He's fuckin' crazy about you.

You find yourself moving the two of you toward the couch and he lets you, your legs tangling together as you shuffle over to it. You slowly settle onto it together, him sitting pretty beneath you while you situate yourself in his lap, a leg on either side of his thighs. You don't stop kissing him, whimpering softly into his mouth when his hand stills firmly on your back, holding you close.

"What're you doin', babygirl?" he breathes against your lips, voice dark and husky - he already knows the answer.

You don't reply, just deepen the kiss and grind yourself down into his crotch, feeling his already half hard cock press against you through your shorts. You whimper again, pulling back to look at him through lidded eyes.

"Huh?" he asks softly, his own eyes already dark and unfocused, "What're you doin', sweetheart? What d'you need?" He bucks his hips up with his words and you gasp, clinging to him tightly and resting your head on his shoulder. "Need my cock, don't you, baby?"

You nod even though he can't see you, close your eyes and whisper, "I need it so bad."

"Need it deep inside, huh?"

You swallow and shiver, grinding down against him again in response. He holds you firm in his lap and brings his lips to your ear, trails his fingers up and down your back.

"I'm gonna give it to you, baby, I promise," he murmurs, voice gravelly and low, "Gonna fill you up so good, have you cryin' on it."

You whimper again, squeezing your eyes tighter and imagining how it'll feel to have his enormous size spreading your insides, pushing into the deepest parts of you. It's almost too much to bear, too much to imagine as you whine into his shoulder. You want it now, but you also know that now isn't the right time.

"I- I started taking birth control," you whisper, clinging to him tighter.

He seems to freeze beneath you for a moment, and then his hands move down to squeeze your ass, drag you slowly down the length of him - now fully hard - as you whine again.

"Good girl," he whispers, pinning you to his cock through his jeans, "That's- fuck, you're such a good girl."

You keen at his praise, whimpering into his shoulder as he drags you back and forth along his cock, the denim rough against your bare thighs. You think about what you'd both done together earlier today, the way it felt to have his entire length thrusting through your folds, the head catching on your hole every so often. The way it felt to have the wide tip pressed just enough inside of you, warm and pulsing.

"Take it out, please," you moan softly, pulling back to look at him again, "Wanna feel it. Please, Joel."

He groans at your words, nods quickly and adjusts you carefully in his lap so he can tug down his zipper. You watch as he reaches inside and pulls himself out, and your mouth immediately begins to water as soon as you catch sight of the dark tip, already wet and leaking. Without any hesitation at all your hand moves downward to wrap around his shaft, holding it in your palm.

"This was inside me," you whisper, the words sounding wonderfully filthy in your mouth as your thumb traces his throbbing tip, remembering how it had felt pushing against you.

"Yeah, it was," he murmurs. He's watching you closely, looking up at you with a lustful expression as you touch him, "Felt so good inside you, baby. Wanted to push all the way in so bad, fill you up."

You shiver, "Why didn't you?"

"'Cause I wanna take my time with you, angel. Wanna fuck you slow, get you used to it," he groans when you start to slowly stroke him up and down, eyes not leaving where you're touching him, "Gonna have you beggin' for it."

Without much thought you reach down and start to tug pathetically at your shorts, wanting them off. The angle is awkward and you can't move them properly, something which he notices right away, eyebrows going up.

"You wanna rub on it again, sweetheart?" he asks, his hands going immediately to your waistband.

You nod furiously, desperate whimpers escaping your lips as he eases you up a bit to pull them down. You bend your legs to accommodate his movements, lifting from his lap for just a moment as he tugs down both your shorts and panties, leaving you bare. He wastes no time in pulling you back down again, both of you letting out simultaneous gasps as his cock slips perfectly against your center, wet and waiting.

"Joel," you whine, burying your face in his shoulder and letting him begin to drag you back and forth on his cock again without any clothes in the way. It feels so fucking good, both of your most intimate parts touching and rubbing in sweet and filthy harmony while you cry into his shirt. One of his hands snakes up your back, holds you firm again as he helps you move.

"That's my perfect angel," he murmurs in your ear, voice shaky, "Thaaaat's my pretty girl, so wet for me. Always so fuckin' wet."

"Can't help it," you sob into his shoulder, feeling your stomach tighten every time his warm cock rubs up against your clit, "Can't help it, Joel, feels so good. You make me feel so good."

"I know," he moans in your ear, "I know I do, baby, I know."

It doesn't take long at all for your orgasm to hit you, a high pitched whine clawing its way out of your throat as you frantically grind against his cock and then still as the waves of pleasure wash over you. He rubs your back, holds you close, lets you feel all of it before pressing a finger to your chin and gently turning your face to look at him.

"Yep," he breathes, assessing your expression, "there's that pool of golden light. Heavenly angels singin' praise. You hear 'em?"

You laugh shakily, still overwhelmed at the feeling of his cock continuing to pulse against your pussy. He keeps holding you there without moving, letting you come down from your high, allowing the moment to stay soft and peaceful as he watches your face. Your eyes are tired - you're still not fully recovered from your busy weekend and he can tell.

"You look sleepy, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "Want me to carry you up?"

You shake your head quickly, "No, I still gotta make you come. Just gimme a minute."

He chuckles, "You don't gotta do anything, honey. You know that right? Need you to know that you don't owe me anythin', not ever."

He really is too considerate for his own good, but there's absolutely no way you're gonna leave him hanging like that. With a sly smile you shake your head again and lift your hips up a bit, bringing your hand down to wrap around his cock again. His jaw goes slack, eyes still staring into yours as you start to stroke him again.

"I wanna make you come," you correct yourself, leaning forward to press a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth, "I want..." you drop your gaze bashfully, trying to let the dirty talk flow naturally like his does as you play with his cock, "I want you to make a mess on me."

"On you?" he asks, clearly surprised by your sudden boldness, "Where, baby? Where d'you want me to make a mess?"

With your other hand - slightly trembling - you pull your shirt up and palm the swell of your belly, just above your mound. He groans, low and lustful.

"On your tummy, baby?" he murmurs, "You want me to get your tummy all messy with my cum?"

You nod, biting down on your lip and pumping his cock faster, eyes coming back up to meet his gaze again as you get him off.

"Want it to drip down onto your pussy, huh?" he continues, brows drawing together in pleasure, "'Cause that's where it belongs, doesn't it?"

You nod again, "It does, Joel," you whisper, "It belongs there."

"You want me to come inside you this weekend, babygirl?" his voice is strained, so close to edge and you moan at his words, eyes still locked onto his, "Yeah, you do, don't you?"

"I do," you whimper, the truth stumbling from your lips before you can even really process it, "I want it so bad, Joel. Want you to fill me up."

With one last groan his eyes roll back and he starts to come all over your stomach, exactly where you'd wanted him to. Holding him in your hand while he comes is a brand new experience - his cock pulses and twitches within your grasp as he makes a strangled noise and brings his hand up to cover his face, overwhelmed by the sensation. You bite down on your lip and watch as his cum paints your skin in thick spurts, warm and thick.

"Fuck," he finally mutters after a moment of heavy breathing, bringing his hand down from his face to look at you again with a sated expression, "You're filthy, baby."

You feel your cheeks warm, eyes going down to where his cum drips down your belly. His gaze follows yours and he smirks, reaching forward to carefully thumb a bit that's trailing dangerously close to your pussy and pushing it up and away from where it shouldn't go - yet, anyway.

"In more ways than one," he murmurs softly, then meets your gaze again. Despite the depraved circumstances you still can't help but feel shy, head tilting away from him as you smile sheepishly and slip out of his lap, pretending not to hear the embarrassingly loud squelch of wet skin against wet skin. You see him grin in the corner of your eye, clearly still fond of your bashfulness.

"I'm gonna need a shower," you say shyly, eyeing your discarded shorts on the floor.

"Go shower, darlin'," he says, still seated on the couch with his legs open and his softening cock peeking through the open zipper of his jeans, "I'll get my bed all comfy for you."

At the mention of his bed you find a little bit of the anxiety from earlier return in the pit of your stomach, twisting uncomfortably. He notices your reaction immediately, a frown settling into his features as he assesses your expression.

"What is it?"

You avoid eye contact, biting your lip and awkwardly tugging your shirt down over your thighs so you're less exposed, "Um, I know nothing happened, I know you didn't... but um, did..." you grimace, "Did she..."

He stands up immediately, tugging his zipper as he goes and reaching you in a single stride, arms coming up to touch your shoulders. You look up and see him shaking his head, brown eyes softly searching yours.

"She wasn't in my bed, honey," he murmurs quietly, "I promise."

The anxiety settles, and you believe him.

You cuddle together in bed for a while after your shower, not really talking but just basking in the feeling of being together again after such a shitshow of a weekend. You're warm and comfy in one of Joel's band t-shirts while he lays beside you, spooning you from behind and pressing soft kisses to the exposed part of your neck every so often, his bare legs tangled with yours beneath the sheets.

Part of you still wants answers, wants to learn more about his relationship with his ex, but another part of you doesn't feel ready yet, doesn't want to ask those questions or face those truths. Your mind is running a mile a minute as you lay there without saying anything, brow furrowed as you weigh the pros and cons in your head.

"D'you wanna talk about it, angel?" Joel finally asks, almost like he can sense exactly what you're feeling, his arms tightening around you. Your eyes close and you sigh deeply, squishing the side of your face into his pillow.

"Talk about what?" you mumble, but he's not buying it.

"I know you have questions," he murmurs, kissing the back of your neck again - grounding you, reminding you that it's okay to be yourself here, "There must be a thousand flyin' around that beautiful head o'yours. And I want you to ask 'em."

You sigh again, quieter this time. He squeezes you and reaches up to pull some of your hair back from your cheek and push it behind your ear, stroking it gently. He presses a small kiss there and noses the space beneath.

"You still feel safe with me, right?" he whispers.

At his words you immediately turn in his embrace, a look of shock forming on your face, "Of course I do," you breathe, "Joel, I've never felt safer with anyone than I do with you."

"Okay, okay, just checkin'," he smiles at you, eyes soft and sleepy, "You just seem... somewhere else. And I know why," his smile turns sad again, "And I hate that you're feelin' this way, darlin'. What can I do?"

You shake your head and reach your hand up to palm the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek tenderly, "You... you can tell me where it is you're taking me this weekend." It's a cop-out and you both know it, but as usual he doesn't push it - you'll talk about your feelings in your own time.

He turns his head and kisses the palm of your hand gently, "Dallas," he murmurs, "Hotel room's booked."

Your eyebrows shoot up, "Dallas? But that's hours away, isn't it?"

"About three or so," he shrugs, "You ever been?"

"Couple times when I was a kid. Why Dallas?"

His arms tighten around you and he leans forward to lightly brush his nose against yours, "I told you, I wanna take you away. Not just twenty minutes or an hour; I want you to forget about all the shit you're dealin' with here for a little while," he kisses the tip of your nose gently, "What better place to do that than another city?"

The thought makes you smile. He's right; getting as far away from your parents as possible definitely sounds like a more than appealing opportunity. You've been to Dallas before but not since you were a kid, experiences that have pretty much clouded over at this point, what with all the restrictive rules you'd had to face.

"I feel bad..." you suddenly whisper.

His expression falters, "Why, baby?"

"'Cause what if I don't wanna leave the hotel room?" You smile slyly and his grin comes back in full force as he pulls you closer, presses loud kisses along the side of your face as you giggle.

"Who said anything about leavin' the hotel room?" he chuckles, then reaches over you to grab his phone from the night stand, "Plus..." he scrolls through it for a few seconds then turns it to face you, "There may be a more specific reason I chose Dallas."

You peer at his phone, see the image of a poster staring back at you: DALLAS GOSPEL MUSIC FESTIVAL. The dates correlate to this upcoming weekend. Your jaw drops, eyes going wide as you turn back to his suddenly cocky expression - he's beyond proud of himself.

"Joel Miller," you gasp with a grin, slapping his arm playfully, "you're worse than me."

"So the whole thing just sounds really cool," you lie to your mother the following day, showing her the poster for the festival you'd printed out, "They're also doing group worship in the mornings and there's some other events happening between the shows, like bible trivia." Kill me now.

She raises an eyebrow, assessing it further, "It's an awfully long drive to Dallas on your own..."

"I like driving, it's peaceful."

"And aren't festivals known to have drugs?"

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, "It's gospel, Mom. I don't think anyone'll be handing out drugs. Plus," you point to the little anti-drug symbol in the corner of the poster, "it's not allowed, see?"

She still looks skeptical, bringing her gaze from the poster to your face, "But you've never wanted to go to something like this before. Why now?"

"I'm just-" you smile as earnestly as you can, "I'm really enjoying my lessons with Mr. Miller. I'd like to go see some professionals perform, get inspired, that kinda thing. I think it'll help me with my technique." Technique, sure. Not as if you've played his guitar more than once at this point.

She grimaces, "It seems an awfully big thing to keep from your father..."

And whose fault is that? "You could tell him I'm visiting another one of my friends?"

She nods slowly, thoughtfully, turning her head to look down at the poster again.

You hate this. You hate how much you're lying. You hate how much she's lying. But more than anything, you hate that you have to lie in the first place. You hate that you have to ask permission, as if you're not a grown adult woman with her own agency. None of this sneaking around and coming up with covers and excuses would even be necessary if your parents just allowed you to be yourself under their roof. The whole thing is so fucked.

"Promise you'll let me know when you get there, and text me every morning and night," she finally says, eyes meeting yours again, "And promise that you'll drive safely."

Relief floods through you, along with that all too familiar guilt, "I promise."

The rest of the week passes smoothly, albeit a little slow. Your mother gives your father some kind of excuse about this weekend that seems to appease him, something about a bible study group. You try not to think about how many stories you're weaving together at this point, all of them piling on top of each other and twisting and turning into even bigger and badder lies. It's truly becoming a giant mess, but all of that doesn't seem to matter whenever you think of Joel, of this weekend...

Communication with him is so different now - in the best way. No more short and brief responses, no more wondering what he's thinking or worrying he's no longer interested. You text every single day and talk on the phone in hushed whispers almost every night. You've noticed that he's able to call you earlier now, has stopped going to the bar after work with his crew, but you don't mention it to him. He hasn't been back since last weekend, something that makes you admittedly feel a bit of relief.

You text him on Wednesday afternoon from the parking lot of the grocery store - you've been helping your parents out a bit more now wherever you can, spending your days cleaning the house, doing chores, fulfilling to-do lists, etc. It's the least you can do for essentially stringing them along through the worst web of lies imaginable. This trip, however, you'd caught a glimpse of Bethany in the baking aisle and almost had a heart attack, rushing to the self checkout and scanning all your items before she'd gotten a chance to see you. You haven't spoken to her since the incident in the church bathroom and you don't intend to ever again if you can help it.

almost ran into bethany at the grocery store ahhh!!!! i hate this so much. just wanna leave already and forget about all these people :( miss you. hope your day's going better than mine 💕

You sigh to yourself as you pull out of the parking lot, but your sad demeanor is quickly replaced with a grin when you feel your phone vibrate in your lap. At a red light you look down at it, warmth flooding your cheeks.

Soon, angel. Two more days and it'll just be you and me. Can't wait to treat you the way you deserve. I know just the thing to make your day better, call me tonight x

That night he whispers filthy things in your ear while you finger yourself, face buried in your pillow, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Your face is hot and your lower half is bare against the sheets, sticky and soft. You're imagining how his cock will feel inside you, buried to the hilt, pulsing deep and wet and warm. The thought is almost too much to bear - you've been physically incapable of thinking of anything else lately.

"Wanna feel it in my stomach, Joel, just like you said," you whine into the pillow, tears stinging your eyes as your pleasure nears its peak. "Please, please."

"You will, babygirl," he gasps, voice low and shaky as he tugs at his cock and groans on the other line, "God you're such a good girl beggin' for it like that. Ask me again, honey, ask for my cock."

"Please, Joel," you try to keep your voice quiet but it's so hard, your fingers plunging in and out of yourself at the exact speed you wish he was fucking you, "Please, Mr. Miller. Please give me your cock."

He lets out another groan, "Oh god, baby, I'm so fuckin' close. Ask me for my cum, angel. Ask for it real pretty and polite."

His words send you over the edge as your hand stutters against your pussy and halts, your whole body trembling as you fall face forward onto the bed. Your skin ignites with even more heat as you shut your eyes tight and whisper, "Please gimme your cum, Joel. Want your cum."

You hear him inhale sharply and then exhale even louder, can almost see the white of his cum behind your lids, dripping all over his bare stomach. You can feel your own slick dripping down your inner thigh, staining your sheets. You wonder if your mom has noticed how often you've been changing your bedding lately, but part of you can't really bring yourself to care.

You try to imagine what it would be like for him to pump you full, for his release to leak out of you, what it would look like, feel like... The thought makes goosebumps rise all over your flesh, especially when you remember that he'd already asked if that's what you wanted. In the heat of the moment you'd said yes, and even now you find that you still do. You have been taking your little pill every day at the same time after all, a fact he's very much aware of.

You turn over in bed and snap a quick picture of your bare pussy, wet and used. It's the second time you've done it this week. You send it without saying anything and smile when you hear him groan again on the other line.

"Perfect little pussy," he whispers, and you can hear the pout in his expression.

"It's yours," you murmur sleepily, feeling yourself begin to drift as you bury your face in your pillow again, "It's all yours, Joel."

The only issue that inevitably pops up is the driving arrangement. To your parents knowledge you're traveling to Dallas alone, so leaving in your own car is a vital detail. You want to ride in Joel's truck though, but you're not sure it's feasible with the amount of eyes on you, the questions your parents will ask if your car stays in the driveway.

"That's easy to figure out, darlin'," Joel reassures you over the phone the next morning, "Lemme make a call to my brother, I'm pretty sure he's got a spot in a garage he ain't usin' right now."

You grimace at the thought of someone you don't know doing you a favor, "He won't mind?"

Joel snorts, "Tommy? Not at all, angel. Don't you worry."

You've only heard him talk about Tommy once, that day on his back deck when he'd told you about his upbringing. You'd been under the impression that they didn't have a very good relationship, what with being compared to each other their whole lives. Maybe you'd been wrong about it. You've certainly been wrong about a lot of things. You file it away as another question to ask once you finally work up the courage.

You have to admit, it feels really good to have someone take care of things like this, telling you not to worry, handling everything that's difficult. You've been carrying such a load of bullshit for your entire life and knowing that Joel's in charge this weekend just makes you feel safe. Protected. Cared for. You feel like you could ask him for anything and he'd somehow make it happen for you, something you've never really experienced before. Your parents have always been hesitant to spoil you despite their wealth, had rarely ever taken you on vacations that weren't undercut with the promise of learning or preaching. Your desires and needs have always taken a backseat to appearances, standards, bigger goals. You've never really felt you could ever relax with them, ask for things, be yourself.

It feels so fucking good to have Joel Miller.

Your parents have already left for the day when you climb into your car on Friday morning, tossing your travel bag in the backseat and switching on the ignition with a smile on your face. You and Joel have it all figured out - he'd talked to his brother and there's indeed a space for you to park your car in for the weekend. Joel surprised you even more by taking the day off, so you're meeting him at the garage in about an hour's time. Before then, though... you think another shopping trip is in order - for one specific item in particular.

The lingerie store doesn't seem as scary this time around. Last time you hadn't even been able to step foot inside, but this time you're more prepared, ready for the skimpy mannequins and uniquely shaped underwear. You're still not really exactly sure what you're looking for, but you don't panic this time when a salesclerk walks over to you with a smile and asks if she can help you. She's probably around your mom's age, something you're not sure makes you uncomfortable or not.

"Um, yeah," you say awkwardly, unable to make direct eye contact, "I was wondering if you have anything...um... like..." you try to find the words, heart beating a bit quicker in your chest, "Something cute? But sexy too, but, um, not too sexy, if that makes sense," you feel your cheeks warm as you babble, thinking of the spiked bras and crotchless panties you'd seen last time, "Just something not too crazy, something pretty but still... still sexy." God, how many times did you just say the word sexy?

The woman just smiles and nods without any ounce of judgement whatsoever, "I know just the thing, sweetie, follow me." Well, despite being around the same age, your mother would certainly never call you sweetie. She'd also never go lingerie shopping with you either; the very thought is laughable.

She leads you to a section full of floral themed sets, brightly colored and soft, lacy and delicate. Your eyes widen a bit at the selection, the options in shapes and sizes, colors and transparency, boy shorts and g strings. You have to admit that you could see yourself wearing pretty much anything here - it's right up your alley, and you're pretty sure it's Joel's preference as well.

"As you can see, we have a big range," the salesclerk says with another smile, "Some of them are more simple than others if that's what you're looking for," she picks up one of the sets, blue and frilly with little forget-me-nots embroidered over the nipples, "This one is very popular, and comfortable too, speaking from experience."

You nod, analyzing it carefully and trying your best not to picture the salesclerk wearing it, "Thanks, but I'll, uh, just have a look myself, if that's okay?"

"Of course!" she puts the set back down and tosses you one last smile, "Take your time, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything."

Being around your parents so much this summer has really messed with your psyche. You find it odd to encounter people like this, people your parents age, Joel's age, who clearly have no qualms about dressing sexually. It's almost the way you'd felt when you first got to college, the culture shock of taking ownership of your own body and doing what you want with it, not constantly wondering if you're going to go to hell for showing too much skin. It reminds you yet again of your own naivety, everything you've been missing up to this point.

But also... everything you're going to experience this weekend. That is why you're here, after all.

You end up picking out what you believe to be the prettiest set. It's white and transparent in certain places, edged in pink and covered in little embroidered flowers, purple and yellow and green. The bra has buttons in the center that you're not sure actually work or are just for show... though regardless, you imagine Joel slowly fingering them while you peer up from below on the hotel bed, a thought that makes your cheeks burn. The panties are cute and look easy to slip on and off but there's an odd third component, just as pretty with straps that lead to nothing. You furrow your brow, staring at it.

You could ask the salesclerk what it is but you really don't want to embarrass yourself. Instead you take a picture and send it in your group chat:

buying lingerie, what is this?? help!!

Of course, Tasha is the first to reply:

IT'S A GARTER BELT, BABE. HOLDS UP STOCKINGS IN A FUN SEXY WAY. SO BUY STOCKINGS. also that's cute as fuuuuck. ur gonna give the old man a heart attack

You stifle a laugh and shove your phone back in your pocket, picking up the entire set and walking to the cash. You grab a pair of sheer white stockings in your size and slip everything onto the counter, still avoiding eye contact as the salesclerk from before walks behind and starts ringing everything up.

"Find everything you were looking for, sweetie? Did you want to try any of this on before you purchase?"

You shake your head immediately, "No, that's okay." The thought of trying any of this stuff on in a public place is definitely still a little too much outside your comfort zone.

The clerk nods and turns the card reader to you with a smile, "That'll be a hundred and fifty eight dollars."

You're pretty sure you've never looked more shocked in your life.

why is being sexy so awkward and expensive?

welcome to my life sister

158 DOLLARS FOR 3 SCRAPS OF MATERIAL

that's it, let it all out

The garage Joel gave you the address for isn't too far from the mall, hidden down a few side streets where you feel confident your parents will never accidentally come across it. With a significantly emptier wallet, you pull into the parking lot and spot Joel's truck, smiling when you see him get out to wave you over. He's wearing one of your favorite flannels - green and black, similar to the one you keep under your mattress - and another band t-shirt underneath; you've lost track of how many he has at this point.

"There's my girl," he says as you pull up beside him with the window rolled down. He leans against your car, tips his head in to kiss you gently, "Find it okay? Directions were clear?"

You can't help but roll your eyes with a giggle, "I just typed it into the Maps app, Joel. Didn't need all the rights and lefts."

He chuckles, "Follow me, I'll show you where to park it."

You inch along behind him as he leads you into the relatively small parking garage and gestures to the right. There's an open spot between an RV trailer and a pick-up truck.

"Those are both Tommy's," he says with a sly smile, "So feel free to scratch 'em up if you want."

You roll your eyes again and carefully pull into the space, being sure to avoid any of the encouraged scratching. It's a comfortable fit and you grab your things from the backseat before climbing out to meet Joel behind your car.

"Hi," you say quietly, peering up at him with a soft smile, not caring that you already had your introduction a few minutes ago. All you can think about now is the time that stretches out in front of you, an entire weekend of just you and him.

"Hi, angel," he murmurs, and you feel his hands come up to squeeze your arms, pull you in close, "Ready to get outta here?" You nod excitedly and he gestures toward the garage entrance, "Then let's hit the road."

Three hours on the road passes much quicker than you thought it would. You remember road trips with your parents as a kid, traveling miles in random directions to witness supposed "miracles" or visit religious sites. Before he'd joined the police force your father had been a pretty prominent presence in church groups all throughout the southern states, and by proxy you and your mother had too. You can't really remember much of the experience other than having to constantly be on your best behavior, put on a perfect front no matter what. It was exhausting. Not to mention the only music you could listen to had to be pre-approved by your parents. You'd sit in the back seat with perfect posture, mouthing along to songs about God while you stared longingly at the kids in cars passing by, screaming songs that were forbidden to you at the top of their lungs.

You tell Joel about it. The first twenty minutes or so of the drive is spent unloading your past road trip experiences, something you genuinely hadn't planned on doing. But talking to him is just so easy. The words fall from your lips without any hesitance whatsoever, no fear that he'll ask why you put up with it, why you didn't stand up for yourself, those questions you'd been asked by people at college whenever you mentioned your upbringing. He listens attentively, reaches over and picks up your hand to place it on his thigh, squeezes it reassuringly.

"I'm just rambling now," you finally say with a shake of your head, "The point is, this is my first road trip without all those rules, you know? So it's just... I'm just really excited."

"I get it, honey. And I'm glad I can give you this experience," he turns to look at you with a crooked smile, "Among others." Your cheeks warm.

As usual, he commands the space he's in. He's so big and broad in the front seat, one large hand on the wheel while the other caresses your fingers, thumbs your palm. His forearms are thick and freckled, lined with veins and little nicks and cuts here and there from work. The grey in his scruff reflects light in the sun, sending little twinkles and glimmers into your periphery every so often. He's so perfect, sitting there beside you. So handsome. Yours.

"Which band is that?" you ask him, genuinely curious as your eyes trail down to his t-shirt. You can't help but assume that it's some kind of metal band, what with all the skulls.

"This?" he tugs at it, eyes falling to where you're looking, "Grateful Dead."

"Oh, cool."

He smiles sympathetically, "You have no idea who they are, do you?"

"Is it that obvious?"

He laughs and squeezes your hand again, then lets go to reach into the center console for his phone. You watch him unlock it and pull his face back to squint at it, eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and the road while he tries to access something.

"I can do it," you offer, and without any qualms he slips his phone into your hand with a smile.

"I- uh- I made a playlist," he says, turning his attention to the road again, "For the trip. There's some Grateful Dead on there, if you wanna hear it. You can add your own stuff to it too, don't want you thinkin' you can only listen to my shit."

You don't know why the concept of Joel making a playlist specifically for your trip is so fucking adorable, but it is. You can't help but smile as you open Spotify and spot it immediately - simply called Dallas. You scroll through it and pick the first Grateful Dead song you spot.

"Wait," you say, scrunching your eyebrows as soft guitar fills the truck, gentle and smooth, "This is Grateful Dead?"

He chuckles, "What were you expectin'?"

"Somebody screaming, maybe? Especially for a song called Friend of The Devil," you turn to him with a shake of your head, "God, you're telling me this is the kinda shit my parents forbid me from listening to? It's literally just some guy."

He laughs again, deep and genuine, "Half the shit parents forbid their kids from listenin' to ain't even that bad. I remember a couple years before my momma died, she told me she'd heard this new singer called Bruce Springsteen, absolutely loved him," he grins at the memory, "Meanwhile she'd thrown out all my Springsteen records when I was sixteen, said they were filth."

"Did you remind her?"

He shakes his head, "Nah, I let her believe he really was some new singer she'd discovered. Wouldn't have done any good to rub it in her face. We'd already made peace."

You think about that concept - peace. The very thought of ever having a peaceful relationship with your own parents feels foreign and downright impossible, a feeling that makes you ridiculously sad if you think about it too long. You don't want to entertain the idea of having to say goodbye to them completely at any point, for them to be out of your life entirely because they don't want you anymore. You're glad Joel was able to make peace with his mother, but after years? After his father had passed away? The thought is frightening.

"Now, Backstreet Boys," Joel continues with a wry smile, "that's a band you gotta watch out for. I had to stare at those faces every time I went in Sarah's room for years. Talk about trauma."

The discomfort fades almost immediately, a natural giggle bubbling past your lips at his words. You like hearing him mention his daughter so casually - you're finally in the loop, finally getting to see the real him, hear his unfiltered thoughts.

"Can I... can I ask you something about Sarah?"

His expression changes then, not into one of anger or guilt, but surprise. He nods immediately, reaches back over to take your hand in his, "Of course you can, angel. Anythin' you want."

"Um, how old is she?" You've already done the math in your head, but you want to be sure, want to hear it from him.

"She's thirty eight," he gives you a look, "Does that make you feel weird?"

You shake your head, "No, it doesn't." You mean it. You'd probably find it weirder if she was closer to your age, but thirty eight... a full grown woman, out of the house and living her own life for years. There's something different about that, something that doesn't bring you any discomfort.

"I just wanna say... I've... I've never been with anyone your age," he looks away again, like he's worried about seeing your face as he says it, "You're the youngest person I've been with, save for when I was that age myself." He grimaces, "I don't... I don't go around preyin' on young girls or anything, if you were worried about that. I know the first day we met might've made you think otherwise, but-"

You smile softly as he babbles, "I believe you, Joel. I mean... I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind. I was a bit worried about that this weekend, when I saw you and Sarah. I thought she was my age."

He laughs a little breathlessly, shaking his head, "Oh, she'd be very pleased to hear that, lemme tell you." He makes a face. "The thinkin' she's your age part, not the part about you thinkin' we were together. She probably wouldn't like that so much."

You giggle, "Yeah, probably not."

"But I do mean it, honey. I'm not that kinda man, or at least I never thought I was," he bites his lip, "You kinda turned my whole world upside down that day, if I'm bein' honest."

You don't really know what to say in response, but you feel pride swell in your chest at his words. You reach your other hand over and place it on top of where you're already entwined, peering up at him fondly, hoping he can sense what you're feeling. The song switches over to something else then, another guitar heavy tune. You recognize the melody immediately, your eyes going wide.

"Speaking of the first day we met," you say softly, hoping he'll recognize the significance - and he does. He peers at you with that beautifully tender expression he reserves only for you, grip tightening beneath your other hand.

"Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan."

"I knew it was Bob Dylan."

"Good ear. You play?"

"Um, not really."

The memory sends tingles down your spine. How was that only a few weeks ago? How have you gone from being the shy and bashful girl at the end of Joel Miller's walkway to the girl sitting in his truck holding his hand on a three hour road trip to another city? Talking about your life, his life, the things that matter? The girl with lingerie and birth control packed neatly in your travel bag?

"I'm still plannin' on teachin' you how to play this," he finally says, smirking, "Don't think you can get off easy just 'cause we're focusin' on the hymns."

You roll your eyes with a grin, "When you actually teach me a hymn, we'll talk."

It doesn't take long to realize that driving with Joel is very distracting. Not only is he so large and broad in the seat beside you, looking gorgeous and charming as he always does, but he also smells fucking delicious. Being in such close proximity to him in a small space, being able to smell his cologne mixed with the sheer scent of him, raw and masculine and sexy. It just reminds you of how it feels to be underneath him, overwhelmed by him entirely, feeling the rough edges of his body against yours.

You've had the windows rolled up since the first hour, turned on the AC once you'd gotten on the highway and let the cool air fill the truck. But now it's just circulating that fucking smell, thick and heady as you watch little droplets of sweat form on Joel's forehead, trickle down his temples. You feel a throb in your panties, a surge of release, and you clench your thighs together.

"You okay, babygirl?" he asks you softly, reaching over to place his big hand on your bare thigh - of course he'd noticed your change in demeanor immediately, "Need to stop somewhere and use the bathroom?"

His hand on your thigh just makes you clench tighter, makes you lean back lazily in your seat and let out a quiet whimper. You turn and look at him the exact moment his gaze reaches your face, reads it, tries to make sense of what you need.

"What is it?" he murmurs, hand slowly rubbing your skin, "What's got you makin' sounds like that, huh?"

You whimper again, already fully decided on what you want. Your hand goes down to grip his, move it upwards to the crotch of your shorts. His jaw slackens, eyes going dark.

"Need your pussy touched, baby?"

You nod, feeling heat flood your cheeks at his words. You watch as he assesses the road in front of him, the lane beside him. He chews the inside of his cheek and seems to settle on something internally. He keeps his eyes trained ahead while his hand fiddles with the zipper on your shorts.

"Unbutton those for me, pretty girl," he says, voice suddenly low, and you don't need telling twice. You practically tear your shorts open and allow him to reach his hand inside - it's so big and warm, hairy knuckles and callused fingertips slipping past the band of your underwear. Another pitiful sound falls from your lips as his index drops to your entrance and immediately slips inside.

"Joel," you whisper, tilting your head back and closing your eyes as he pushes knuckle deep inside you, filling you quickly and easily.

He doesn't say anything, just prods a second finger against your hole and slowly pushes it alongside the first. You take him so easy now; it doesn't burn the way it did those first few times, and it certainly helps that you're also soaking wet, practically dripping through your shorts.

"That's it," he murmurs softly beside you, other hand still on the wheel while he monitors the traffic around him, "That feel better, baby?"

"Y-yes," you breathe, looking down again to watch the lewd actions happening in your lap, watch the way his hand moves back and forth in your shorts as he pulls his fingers in and out of you.

"Just close your eyes and relax, angel," he tells you gently, "I'll take care of it."

You do as he says, letting yourself relax as best you can while he continues to slowly fuck you with his fingers. Another song starts playing, something low with a steady beat that he suddenly sets the pace to, speeding up as you open your legs a bit wider and moan softly. His thumb finds your clit and circles it, making you whine.

"Shhh, it's okay," your hear him say beside you, working his fingers, "It's alright, babygirl. Gonna give you what you need."

You moan again at the images that flood your brain, the thought of being underneath him in only a couple hours time, the feeling of his cock pushing inside, filling you up in just the way you've been aching for. You imagine his heavy breaths, hot and sticky against your skin. The smell of his cologne, his sweat. The coarseness of his pubic hair against your bare pussy. You writhe in the seat and tighten your thighs together, another whine slipping from your mouth.

"I got you," he murmurs, and he does. It doesn't take much else at all for you to climax, and he gets you there quickly with a few more circles of his thumb, the stiffness of his fingers, his name slipping past your lips as you come.

You lay loose and pliant in your seat for a moment, eyes still closed. He goes to remove his hand from your shorts but you stop him, reaching down to hold his wrist and keep his warm hand inside. He cups your pussy gently and just holds it, the palm of his hand sitting firmly atop your throbbing hole, rhythmically pulsing against his skin.

"Just keep it there," you whisper, chest heaving, "Please."

"Christ," he grunts under his breath, and you open your eyes to look at him, see the flush of his skin as he looks at you with desire in his eyes, "You were right, babygirl. I don't think we'll be leavin' that hotel room."

You like Joel's playlist a lot. After stopping into a gas station to clean up a bit, you sit in the passenger seat while he loads up on gas and scroll through it on your own phone, liking certain tracks that have stood out to you. His musical range is very broad; there's a lot of artists on it that you've never heard of, but you're not sure if that's just because of how sheltered you've been or because he's so much older than you. You choose to believe it's the latter - you hate thinking about how much you've missed out on. He'd said you could add some of your own songs but the thought makes you feel embarrassed; you haven't really had much time to form your own music taste, have spent your college experience so far just listening to whatever's popular since you couldn't when you were younger. You wouldn't even know what to add.

You scroll back up to the top of the playlist and tap Joel's profile out of curiosity, wondering if he has any other public playlists. You smile to yourself when you see titles like BBQ, 80s Tunes, Good Solos, Acoustic, Oldies, Angel.

Hold on...

Angel

You stare at it for a moment, thumb hovering over the icon but making no move to actually press it. You suddenly feel like you're invading his privacy somehow, like this isn't something he'd want you to see, not unless he said you could. With all the strength you can muster you hit the back button and return to the Dallas playlist, tapping a random song and locking your phone.

Joel gets back in the truck, oblivious to your discovery. "Gettin' closer, darlin'. You excited?"

You smile, warmth bursting in your chest, "Can't wait."

The conversation drifts here and there throughout the rest of the drive, both of you asking and answering questions back and forth about your lives, your pasts, your interests, your dislikes. You learn that Joel really likes music. You've known this, of course - it's not like it's some huge surprise - but hearing him talk about the artists he likes, the instruments, the melodies, the lyrics... you can hear the passion in his voice, the adoration for his favorites, the infatuation with certain lines and words. He loves music.

"Why aren't you a musician?" you ask him, genuinely curious, "Like, this really seems like something you should be doing professionally."

He chuckles at that, shakes his head, "Knowin' a lot about somethin' doesn't necessarily constitute a career in it," he shrugs, "I mean... I can't say I never thought about it. To be honest, when I was a teenager I did dream about performin' live, recordin' an album, all that jazz."

"So... why didn't you?"

He tilts his head with a half smile, "I think you're forgettin' the part where I became a dad right outta high school."

You wince, "Oh. Right."

He laughs, "S'okay. I mean, I still probably coulda done it. But there was a period there in those early years where I stopped playin' altogether, so it kinda just... slipped my mind."

You frown, "What happened? If you don't mind me asking."

He takes a breath, thoughtful for a moment as he tightens his grip on the wheel and squeezes your hand at the same time, like he's preparing himself - or preparing you.

"Well, uh... Sarah's mom, she left." Your lips part in surprise but you don't say anything, giving him a few seconds to collect his thoughts again before continuing, "She, uh, she had really bad post-partum depression, lasted a really long time. Of course, at the time, that kinda thing wasn't really talked about very much. And on top o' that we were both living with her parents since I'd been kicked out and we couldn't afford to go anywhere else. Even when we finally managed to move out they stayed in our business."

"And her parents... were they...?"

"They were strict, yeah," his jaw tenses, "They were... they were very hard on her, which made it worse. And she never wanted to be a mom, ya know? She was only seventeen when it happened and it completely uprooted all her plans. She'd wanted to get outta Texas, go to California or New York, get away from her parents and all the bullshit." He sighs, shaking his head slightly at the memory, "But livin' where we did, abortion was outta the question and her parents were our only option."

He's not looking at you but you can see the pain in his expression, the regret. A wave of sadness washes over you as you watch him talk about this particularly difficult part of his past, a part you'd been curious about ever since last weekend but had been too afraid to ask about. You're not really sure what to say.

"They made us get married," he makes a face, "And I mean, it's not like we weren't in love at that point, 'cause we were. She was my high school sweetheart and I loved her so much, I wanted it to work. But she was so unhappy. So distant. And when Sarah was born it was like she was gone. The Mish I knew just completely disappeared." He finally looks at you, expression apologetic, "That's her name - Mish. Well, Michelle, but she hates Michelle. God," he sighs exasperatedly, "I'm sorry, darlin', I shouldn't be ramblin' on about this."

You shake your head quickly, pulling your hand from his grip to lay it on top of his and squeeze, a comforting gesture, "No, Joel, don't apologize. Tell me. I wanna know."

He peers at you, hesitant, "You're sure?"

"Yes. I... I wanna know you, if you'll let me." You squeeze his hand again, reassuring him quietly.

So he tells you. He tells you about getting his first real job in construction, working the latest hours possible to earn as much as he could to get the three of them out of Mish's parents house and into their own. He tells you about Sarah being born, how he'd never felt as happy in his entire life as he did when he first held her in his arms, how she was a light in the darkness for him, lit up the room with her killer smile and big brown eyes. He tells you how he'd woken up one morning to a note from Mish, telling him that she couldn't do it anymore, that she had to get out before the situation swallowed her whole. He tells you about how his little brother Tommy, the one you'd thought he disliked, the golden boy, started skipping school to take care of Sarah when Joel couldn't - not because Joel asked him, but because he'd wanted to help.

"They say it takes a village," he says with a soft smile, "But for me, I had my brother and that was enough. It was like the past however many years of that godforsaken rivalry our parents pushed on us hadn't even happened."

"This coming from the person who asked me to scratch his truck an hour ago," you tease, and he just laughs, peering over at you with a genuine smile and tears shining in his eyes. There he is, the real him.

"Mish, she uh-" he clears his throat, "She came back, when Sarah was a little older, but then she disappeared again, same story. We found out later that she was dealin' with a whole lot more than post partum. I won't go into the details but once she got on the right meds, started therapy, she came back to us. Took a little while for things to settle - we tried on our relationship again, but we realized we just didn't fit, it was never gonna work." You squeeze his hand again. "She stayed in our lives though, became a good mom to Sarah, that's what mattered most."

"And you were just... you were just alone, through all of that?" you ask quietly, "I mean, I know you had Tommy, but... that must've been so hard." You can't even imagine dealing with all of that, find it difficult to comprehend the fact that Joel had become a father when he was younger than you, had to drop all his dreams and desires and start living entirely for someone else. "Didn't your parents ever try to reach out at all? Didn't they want to know Sarah?"

He sighs, eyes on the road, "My momma did, I know she did. But my father wouldn't let her, and she did as he said, no questions asked."

You can't help but picture your own parents, the way your mother bends over backwards to police herself around your father, the way she's taught you your entire life to do the same. The way she can't even talk to him about what's really going on - or at least what she thinks is going on - for fear of him winding up in control of the situation, making the decisions for her.

"I wonder if my mom would still wanna see me if she knew what I've been doing," you say aloud, unable to keep the thought to yourself. "Or if my dad would force her to shut me out."

Once again your hands swap places, Joel wrapping his fingers around your palm and gripping it tightly. But he doesn't say anything, doesn't give you any words of reassurance, and you know it's because he can't.

A soft kiss to your right cheek, then your left. Whiskered and warm. Your eyes flutter open and you see Joel leaning over the center console with a tender smile on his face, brown eyes peering down at you fondly.

"We're here, baby," he murmurs.

You blink a few times, confused. Only moments ago you'd been listening to music, chatting about your degree and answering Joel's questions about your other life, the one where your parents aren't in charge. He'd been so attentive, so interested in learning more about you. You vaguely remember a song coming on, slow and melodic, and then...

"I fell asleep?" you ask blearily, sitting up a bit.

"Out like a light," he says with a smile, "Had to skip all my heavy metal."

You roll your eyes and peer out the window, confused by the darkness beyond.

"We're in the parking garage at the hotel," he clarifies quickly, leaning back into his own seat, "Ready to check in?"

You nod and yawn, opening the passenger side door and stepping out to stretch your arms above your head. It feels good to be out of the small confines of Joel's truck, even though it was nice while it lasted. He follows suit and walks around the side to grab the luggage from the back.

"You brought your guitar?" you ask, watching as he picks up the long black carrying case and slips it over his shoulder.

"That I did," he replies with a wink, "Gotta get that lesson in, right?"

You feel heat bloom in your cheeks and avoid his flirtatious gaze, moving toward the truck bed to grab your bag. He gets to it first, picks up both his bag and yours and carries them easily in both hands, walking over to meet you on the other side of the truck.

"I can take mine," you offer, "That's a lot to carry."

He just chuckles and shakes his head, walking in front of you, "You ain't liftin' one single finger on this trip, sweetheart."

Walking from the darkness of the parking garage to the suddenly blaringly bright sun of Dallas is disconcerting at first, but certainly not unwelcome. Your eyes squint against the sunlight, focus on Joel's broad back as he walks in front of you with all the bags, guitar case swinging from his shoulder. God, he looks good carrying all that, big hands gripping the handles of the bags as he saunters ahead. That's yours, you remind yourself yet again, he's yours.

You're so distracted by how good he looks that you barely really take notice of the hotel until you're pushing past the doors into the main lobby, and that's when you freeze in place with your jaw practically on the floor.

What the fuck?

When Joel told you he'd booked a hotel, the only thing you'd really pictured in your mind was the room itself. You'd imagined a pretty sizeable room with a big bed, an ensuite bathroom and maybe a balcony if you were lucky. You've never really spent much time in a hotel before, especially nothing fancy or expensive. When you'd traveled with your parents you usually stayed with family friends or other parishioners; they hadn't wanted to expose you to too much luxury or wealth. It's hypocritical now when you think back on it, considering the large house your parents live in, the pool, the cars, the boat your father wants to buy. They'd had money to throw away on those things but couldn't splurge on a hotel room every once in a while? Couldn't treat you to something you really wanted?

Now you stand in an absolutely gorgeous main lobby, all marble floors and bright greenery, glints of gold and crystal and diamonds everywhere you turn. You suddenly feel like you've walked into a European country - how the fuck did you drive three hours from Austin and end up in a place like this?

Joel is stalling a few feet in front of you, that cocky smile in full view as he watches your reaction, "Ain't too shabby, huh?"

You're still staring with wide eyes at the sleek floors, the glittering fountains, the fucking bell-hops wearing those silly little outfits. You turn back to Joel with a shake of your head, mouth open.

You barely register the checking-in process, too mesmerized by your surroundings to pay attention. A bell-hop loads up your bags onto a luggage cart, the clerk hands Joel a key card, and you're still in complete awe of what you've just walked into as you follow Joel almost robotically to the elevator without speaking.

This is too much, you want to say.

How much did you spend? you want to ask.

The room itself is fucking beautiful, overlooking the hustle and bustle of the city below, a sight you already know will look gorgeous when the sun goes down and the buildings are lit up. The bed is huge, much bigger than you'd anticipated, with a giant flatscreen TV on the wall overtop a confusingly high-tech looking fireplace. There's a comfy looking couch and an ensuite to your right, and a fucking balcony, just like you'd hoped for. You stand in complete silence in the doorway for a solid minute until the bell-hop is gone and Joel has to nudge you forward a little to shut the door.

"Say somethin'," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you from behind and nuzzling his face in your neck.

You shake your head again, eyes still wide, "I- I don't even know what to say."

"D'you like it?" his voice is muffled in the warmth of your neck, lips pressing a soft kiss there as his arms squeeze you gently, "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

You swallow around the lump in your throat, close your eyes through freshly stinging tears and lean back into his embrace. "I'm thinking that.... that I can't believe you did all this for me."

He kisses your neck again, slow and sweet, "Of course I did, angel. S'what you deserve."

You open your eyes and look down to see his big arms holding you tightly, feel the firm warmth of him at your back, smell that heady and delicious scent of his cologne. This isn't some dream you're having, some weird and sinful idea you came up with in your head; this is real. You're really here, standing in a beautiful hotel room with the most beautiful man you could ever imagine. You feel so safe.

And now you have an entire weekend to show him how much that means to you, a thought that sends a chill up your spine when your gaze rises back up to the bed. There it is. That's where it's going to happen.

"So... what's the plan?" you ask quietly.

He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your ear before pulling back and spinning you around in his embrace, peering down at you with a soft expression. "Anythin' you want," he says with a smile, "You're in charge."

You can't help but feel yourself pout a bit, "What if I don't wanna be in charge?"

He leans down and brushes his nose against yours softly, "Well, then I'd say..." he's cut off by a sudden gurgling sound, and your eyes widen when you realize it's your stomach - you haven't eaten since this morning. He laughs lightly, pulling back to assess you fondly, "I'd say we better head down to the dining room and get some food in you."

You grimace, even though you know he's right. "Spoke too soon."

While you enjoyed the thrill of the hotel surprise, part of you wishes Joel had told you what kind of place this was so you could have packed accordingly. You definitely didn't pack anything super elegant or fancy, although you had packed all the dresses you'd bought a little while ago, the ones you'd tried on in his kitchen and haven't had an opportunity to wear since. You assess your options now, bag open on the couch, fingers trailing through the different fabrics. The little pink bag with your new lingerie still sits tucked into the side, and you wonder if you should wear it underneath whatever you choose to wear for dinner. As usual, you're not really sure how this kind of thing is supposed to work.

You settle on the pink one; you know from past experience that Joel's certainly a fan of that color on you. You take it into the bathroom along with the lingerie while he rummages through his own clothes, oblivious.

"Okay," you whisper to yourself as you stand in front of the mirror and tug off your t-shirt, then shorts. You stare at yourself in your underwear and bra for a few seconds, then carefully peel them from your body and reach inside the little pink bag. You'd already cut the tags off - no going back now.

The set fits perfectly, hugging your soft curves and the swells of your breasts, shaping your tummy and accentuating your thighs. You look good, as much as you feel odd admitting that to yourself. It's still been hard to look in the mirror lately and see what Joel sees, to not feel guilty for simply having a body. It gives you a similar feeling to how you'd felt in your bikini, though the lingerie leaves a lot less to the imagination with its transparent material and plunging panty line.

You tug on the dress and then the sheer white stockings, loving the way they stop at your thighs just under the dress and show off a small sliver of bare skin beneath the hem. You decide to leave the garter belt in the bathroom until later, tucking it into one of the cupboards underneath some towels. You peer at yourself in the mirror again, assessing yourself up and down and hoping Joel will like what he sees.

He does.

The second you come out of the bathroom you see him pause, looking up from where he's buttoning up a nice black dress shirt to gaze at you hungrily. His lips part, eyes going hooded as he walks over to you and firmly palms your lower back, pulls you close and trails his other hand up the side of your body.

"Christ," he breathes, almost a growl, "You're so fuckin' pretty."

Without any other words one of his hands suddenly reaches up your dress, grips tight to one of your thighs. You gasp, eyes widening as he thumbs the bare skin just beneath your panties, pulling back to peer down at you with a lustful expression.

"God, I could fuck you right now," he mutters, and the words send a squeak past your lips, a gush of wetness into your brand new panties, "Yeah, you want me to bend you over and fill you up? 'Cause you look positively sinful right now."

You whimper, tempted immediately by his words, at the thought of being bent over the edge of the bed and taken right there without any preparation. But you know that's not how you want this to go; if it was, you'd have already been fucked by him ages ago. And you know that he knows it too, that he wants the same things you want - to take it slow, to take your time, feel everything the way you want to feel it.

It doesn't mean you can't tease him, though. "Would you actually?" you ask softly, voice shaking a little bit in anticipation.

"God, yes, I would," he murmurs, "Just say the word and I will."

You bite your lip, almost genuinely considering it for a moment before your stomach suddenly growls again and you sigh exasperatedly.

He smiles, leans down to press his lips to your ear, "We have all weekend, remember?"

You shiver at the thought.

Dinner is beyond lovely, delicious dishes served on sparkling silver platters in a grand dining room, bottomless champagne which you surprise yourself by indulging in - about a glass and a half - and a live band performing some soft jazzy numbers on a stage nearby. It's so romantic, so dazzling and classy and like nothing you've ever experienced before. Your eyes flicker back and forth between everything periodically, like you can't really believe you're sitting here - but you are.

It feels so nice to sit in a public place with Joel, be surrounded by people who have no idea who you are and no concept of the secret nature of your relationship. It's just normal, easy, no need to be guarded or quiet or pretend you're something you're not. He smiles at you from across the table and you smile back easily without any pretenses, without that nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to be on your best behavior. You can just be yourself.

He's so handsome, dressed mostly in black with his greying curls gelled back a bit, deep chocolate eyes almost never leaving yours. He looks at you like you're the only person in the room, the only one he can see while you trade more stories about your lives, your favorite things, your dreams. You tell him you'd like to write a book one day, not exactly sure what about yet but how you're not sure you'd even have the confidence to actually publish it - he tells you with warmth and tenderness that he'd read anything you wrote, be the first one to buy a copy. He tells you how he's written songs but never played them to anybody before, but he'd play them for you if you wanted to hear them - you do.

Despite the pretty music, the twinkling lights, the cozy atmosphere and yummy food... you can't wait to get back to the hotel room. Your skin is buzzing with anticipation of what comes next, what you both know will happen as soon as you're back behind closed doors. The thought has been sitting there in the back of your mind all day, all week - for crying out loud, it's been there since the day you met him. It's nice to sit and eat and chat and pretend for a little bit like you didn't come on this vacation for a very specific reason, but that reason is becoming glaringly more apparent the longer you sit across from each other, stealing glances and soft touches. You need him. You need him right now.

Your eyes must go glassy, a faraway look in your expression, because a few moments after finishing your food Joel extends his arm to you and squeezes your hand, peers at you with darkening eyes.

"I know, babygirl," he murmurs, calloused fingertips caressing your skin, "Let's go."

As soon as the door shuts behind the both of you Joel's arms are immediately around you again, just like they'd been when you first stepped into the room after check-in. This time though, he presses his body firmly to yours, pushes his groin against your ass and reaches up to pull your hair back behind your ear, other hand flat against your stomach.

"I want you so bad," he whispers, and your whole body seems to convulse in his grasp in anticipation, "Been thinkin' about it all day."

"Me too," you whisper back, like it's a secret. "I'm ready, Joel."

He noses your ear, your neck, your shoulder. You feel him pull back the sleeve of your dress and press an open mouthed kiss to the skin there, slow and wet.

"I'm gonna take care of you," he murmurs softly, "I promise."

You lean back into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to press kisses all over your exposed skin, the rough prickles of his facial hair feeling sinful against your flesh. He grinds himself into you again and you whine.

"You're gonna feel it right here," he reminds you, rubbing your tummy gently and inhaling your perfume, "Right there, babygirl."

You whimper, legs buckling underneath you, "I want it, Joel, Want it now, please." Your thoughts are clouded by the smell of him, the feel of him, and it's only when you feel him start to unzip your dress in the back that you remember what you're wearing underneath.

"Wait," you say quickly, pulling away and turning around to face him, "Wait, just - just gimme one minute," he looks confused and you smile apologetically, "I have a surprise for you first." You reach forward and take his hands in yours, pull him toward the bed and gently nudge him onto the edge, "Just wait there, okay? I'll be right back."

You start backing up to go to the ensuite and can't help but appreciate the way he looks sitting there for a moment, leaning back on his hands while he gazes at you from the bed under his lashes. His legs are so long, belt buckle shining tantalizingly under the overhead light. You watch as he kicks his shoes off, smiling up at you.

"Don't go anywhere," you tell him, still backing up, "Stay right there."

He grins, "Ain't nowhere I'd rather be than right here, baby."

Your skin heats as you turn the doorknob and head into the bathroom, locking it behind you. You try not to think too much about what's about to happen, what you're going to do together the second you open that door again - the thought is so beyond overwhelming that you can already feel goosebumps rising all over your body.

The dress comes off easily and you place it with slightly trembling fingers onto the counter, reaching down to open up the cupboard and grab the garter you'd stowed away. You don't look at yourself in the mirror until it's securely in place, stockings hooked into it symmetrically albeit a little precariously, and when you finally do see yourself - bright eyed and warm, hair a little tousled, anticipation clear as day on your face - you can't help but grin.

You're about to lose your virginity. To Joel.

You take a few steadying breaths in the mirror, closing your eyes and giving yourself a moment to just quietly exist. You press your palms to the counter, inhaling and exhaling slowly, grounding yourself and working up the courage to go back into the room.

And then you hear it - a low buzzing sound, rattling against the solid tile of the bathroom countertop. You open your eyes in slight confusion, looking toward the sound; it's your phone, tucked against the wall, hidden behind the hand towel. Your brow furrows - has it been in here this whole time? You can't remember checking it at dinner, don't think you'd even unlocked it since before Joel woke you up from your nap in the truck.

You reach over and grab it, wondering who could be calling you - and that's when your heart plummets to your stomach.

6 messages. 4 missed calls. All from your mother.

Fuck.

Are you in Dallas yet?

Let me know when you arrive.

What hotel are you staying at?

Text me back now.

Where are you?

Answer the phone.

"Shit," you whisper, "Shit, shit, shit." You scramble to type out a response, erasing typos and re-typing over and over until you wind up with something that you hope makes sense:

sorry!!! i was so tired from the drive and passed out as soon as i got in my room. i'm still half asleep, i'll talk to you more tomorrow.

How the fuck could you forget to text her?! It was the one thing you'd promised her, the one thing you weren't lying about before you left, and it had still managed to completely slip your mind. You stare at the sent message, watching a whole minute go by until her typing bubble appears, slow and steady. Finally, her reply comes in:

I told your father about Mr. Miller. We'll discuss when you get home.

Well, that's definitely not the response you'd been expecting.

Your face scrunches in confusion as you read the message again; you're not sure how it correlates at all to your lack of communication, the breaking of your promise. You suppose she'd been so worried she'd had no choice but to tell your father the "real" reason you're in Dallas - the music festival, and by proxy the lessons with Joel that "inspired" the trip in the first place. That would make sense. It's not like she has any way of knowing that you're actually here with Joel, right? No, that's illogical. You've been careful.

Okay, you know what? Good. This is good. You've wanted him to know all along. One less secret to keep, right? It's a good thing.

So why does your heart suddenly feel like it's on the floor?

You read the message again, and then again.

It's fine. Don't worry about it, it's okay.

You look up from the phone and into the mirror, eyebrows going up when you see yourself. For a moment you'd forgotten where you were, what exactly you're doing in the bathroom of a hotel room in Dallas wearing nothing but lingerie. The stark contrast of the freedom you'd felt a few moments ago and the sudden anxiety you feel now is palpable, eyes going a bit blurry as you assess yourself in the mirror again. You suddenly feel slightly disconnected from the image itself, like the person you're looking at isn't you - it can't be you, can it? Is that you?

Water, you need water. You cup your hand in the sink and turn on the tap, collecting a small pool of liquid there before bringing it to your lips. The action reminds you that you'll need to take your birth control later, a thought that sends another pang of anxiety to your already discombobulated body. Why do you need to take birth control again? Oh yeah, because you're about five minutes away from losing your virginity. To Joel. Your ears begin to ring.

Your hands shake above the sink, water dripping downwards off your hands into the much too fancy basin below. What are you doing here? Who do you think you are? You really think this is okay? You really think everything you're doing, everything you've been doing, isn't going to have major consequences? Your vision blurs.

You shut off the water and shove your trembling hands into a dry towel, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. You avoid looking at yourself in the mirror, avoid acknowledging the way you look all together. What the fuck is wrong with you? Who are you? What have you become? Lying to your parents, resisting everything they ever taught you, doing filthy things behind their back?

The sins you've acted upon are against God, you can practically hear your father spitting at you, the behavior you've exhibited will surely leave you with nothing but a one way ticket to Hell.

Your heart pounds in your chest, much faster than normal, much faster than you think it's ever beat. So fast that you briefly think you might be having a heart attack. You clutch at your chest and fall to the floor, attempting to catch your breath and utterly failing to do so, eyes wide and panicked as you practically fight for your life on the marble tile. What the fuck is happening? Not even five minutes ago you'd been totally fine, completely ready and willing and excited, and now you want nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

"J-Joel?" you gasp out, voice echoing against the walls; it's like you're calling out for emergency assistance, a last-ditch attempt at survival. He doesn't answer - you hadn't been loud enough. You take another gasping breath and call out a bit louder, "Joel?"

You hear his voice almost immediately on the other side of the door, "I'm here, baby. You okay?"

You shut your eyes tight, head leaning back against the wall as you pull your legs up to hug against your chest. How the fuck do you even answer a question like that? No, I'm not okay. I'm completely the opposite of okay.

"I c-can't breathe," you practically spit the words out, teeth beginning to chatter.

"Hey, hey, what's goin' on? Can I come in?"

You don't answer, can't answer. The knob jiggles and you silently curse yourself for locking it, "What is it, baby? What's wrong? Talk to me." You can hear the worry in his voice.

"I don't kn-know" you hiccup, hands coming up to cover your face, "I just... I just g-got really sc-scared all of a sudden."

"Oh sweetheart, that's okay." His voice is calm, soothing, reassuring. "That's alright, honey. It's okay to be scared, that's normal. That's okay."

"N-no it's not," you gasp out, hands still shaking, "I'm- I'm going to hell."

There's a beat of silence, then -

"I think you're havin' a panic attack, babygirl," you hate how muffled his voice is through the door, like he's ridiculously far away, "That's okay, I have those too. I have those all the time."

Your eyebrows go up in surprise, "Y-you do?"

"I do. And I can help you if you let me in, alright? We can get through it together, I promise."

"Y-you won't be m-mad at me?"

"Babygirl," he breathes, the tone of his voice doused in shock, "I'd never be mad at you for somethin' like that. Not now, not ever." Another knob jiggle, "Open up, sweetheart, lemme hold you."

The thought of being in his arms is the only thing that gets you off the floor, legs shaking like a baby deer as you lean against the wall for support and sidestep over to the bathroom door. With relentlessly shaky fingers you manage to unlock it, tugging it open just a little bit. He does the rest.

You barely get a look at his expression - full of concern and tenderness - before you're suddenly being scooped up into his big, warm arms. He lifts you off the floor like you weigh nothing while you bury your face in his shoulder, close your eyes and try your best to focus on the sound of his breathing, the smell of him, the way he feels. Your legs instinctively wrap around him almost like a koala as he carries you over to the couch, sits down while you cling to him in the safety of his lap.

He doesn't mention the fact that you're practically naked, doesn't ask about the lingerie or point out the little wet spot at the front of your panties where only a few minutes ago you'd started getting wet with anticipation. Instead he simply does exactly what he'd said - he holds you. He pulls you in close and rubs your back and squeezes you tightly while you try to calm your breathing, try to disconnect yourself from the panicked feelings.

"You're okay, angel" he whispers to you softly, and you just cling to him tighter, "You're safe, you're alright. Nothin' bad is gonna happen to you, honey."

Except going to hell, you want to say, but you find that your fear is already starting to ebb, being replaced with the feeling of Joel's wide palm against your back and his soothing words in your ear.

"We have all the time in the world to take this step," he murmurs softly, "I don't want you to feel any pressure, don't want you to think you have to do anything you don't wanna do."

You remember his words from the other day: Need you to know that you don't owe me anythin', not ever. But the frustrating thing is that this isn't something you feel you owe him, it's something you want to do - or at least had wanted to do, before you picked up the stupid fucking phone.

"I'm r-ruining everything," you manage to gasp out, tears still flowing relentlessly down your face, "I'm s-sorry."

"You're not ruinin' anything," he breathes, and you can hear the sincerity in the tone of his voice, "That is not the only reason we came here, sweet girl. We came here to be together, get away from everythin'." You feel him press a gentle kiss to your temple, "Now, tell me what's goin' on. What's got you so scared, baby? Talk to me."

You sniff, face still buried in the warm fabric of his shirt as you tell him about the messages, the response from your mom about telling your father, the way your heart had sunk when you fully registered what it would mean for them to really know what's going on. You realize you're getting tears and snot all over him but he doesn't seem to pay it any mind, continuing to rub your back soothingly.

"It's fine that he knows, or thinks he knows - whatever," you sniffle, "But the whole thing is just- it's just so fucked. If they knew what I was d-doing here, if they knew what I was wearing-"

"Shhh," he trails his fingers through your hair as you babble and you bury your face into his shoulder again, feeling beyond embarrassed. This is not how you'd seen this night going at all. "Shh, sweetheart, it's okay. Hey, look at me. Look at me, sweet girl."

Hesitantly, you pull your face from his shirt to peer at him from under watery lashes, his handsome face blurry through your tears. He reaches down and takes both your hands in his, squeezes them carefully.

"Follow my breathing, okay?" he tells you softly, voice barely a whisper. You watch as he closes his eyes and slowly inhales through his nose. You count about five seconds before he exhales through his mouth again, opening his eyes, "In and out, real slow like this."

It takes a few minutes to get into a good rhythm, to feel the breathing exercise really start to work, but eventually you start feeling calmer again, more yourself. As you breathe Joel continues to hold your hands in his, keeping you present, grounded. You open your eyes a few times, almost like you're making sure he's still there despite knowing you're in his lap, and each time you see his beautiful face - eyes closed over with his lashes fanning his cheeks, plump lips under greying scruff, the lines and wrinkles you want to kiss every single one of - you feel a wave of reassurance wash over you, a reminder that you're safe, you're not alone.

Once your heart has stopped beating a mile a minute, you wrap your arms around him again and nudge your head lazily into the crook of his shoulder, eyes closed as you hum softly in appreciation. He starts rubbing your back again, soft and slow.

"I don't believe in it anymore," you finally whisper quietly, "I don't. I haven't for a long time. But it's hard to remember that sometimes. It can just... it creeps up on me."

"I know," he murmurs, "I dealt with that for a while too, babygirl. It's a lot to reconcile, a lot to put in the past, I get it."

"I get scared when I think about them finding out about us," you admit softly, "Not because it'll change what we have, but because it'll change what I have with them." You bite your lip "You... you know that better than anybody."

He suddenly grimaces at your words, eyes going up to the ceiling for a few seconds before falling back to you, "I knew it," he grumbles, and your brows furrow in confusion, "I knew I shouldn't've talked about that shit with my parents today."

You shake your head immediately, "No, no, Joel, it has nothing to do with that. I wanted to know that stuff, I wanna know you."

"But it -"

"This is my own thing," you tell him softly, gaze meeting his, "This isn't because of you. You've been..." you smile through your tears, "You've been so amazing, Joel. You've helped me so much."

He brushes his nose against yours again, and with a soft sigh he murmurs, "You've helped me too, sweetheart. More than you realize."

"What d'you mean?"

You watch as he reaches beneath him to pull something out from his back pocket, adjusting you a little in his lap as he does so. He pulls out his wallet, small and brown, weathered around the edges - he's definitely had it for a while. Puzzled, your eyes fall to the tattered inside as he opens it, and you immediately spot something sitting in the compartment reserved for cash - something that catches the light, sparkles under your gaze.

"Is that my crucifix?" you ask quietly.

He nods, slipping his finger inside and pulling out the chain, the cross hanging from his fingertip. "This," he tells you, "has gotten me through two panic attacks of my own this week."

What?

He can tell you're at a bit of a loss for words, confused and surprised. With a small smile he wraps his hand around the crucifix, presses the cross into his palm, then brings it to his lips and presses a small kiss to the metal. The action doesn't make much sense to you, what with Joel being an Atheist and having never shown much interest at all in religion other than how it made you feel.

"But you don't believe in that stuff," you state, suddenly unsure.

He nods, letting his hand fall back down into his lap to touch yours, "I don't," he murmurs, "It's... it's a symbol more than anything." He takes your hand, the cross fitting directly into the center of your palm, "When I hold this, it reminds me of the beautiful girl who trusted me with it, the one sittin' so pretty and perfect in my lap right now."

You can't help but feel a bit embarrassed at his words, painfully aware of the tears drying on your puffy cheeks - you probably look a mess, but he doesn't seem to care.

"Makes me feel less alone," he tells you softly, and you swear you hear his voice hitch on the last word, "Keeps me safe."

You peer at him for a moment, processing his words. You don't really know what to say, beyond touched by the sentiment but still unsure how an object that caused you such pain and frustration could be a light in the darkness for him. How could it have a different meaning than the one it was intended for?

It's like he can sense your hesitance, your questions. He shifts you a bit in his lap, pulling you so close that his nose brushes gently against yours. "You should only believe in somethin' if it feels right," he whispers, "Only if it makes you feel like the luckiest person alive just to experience it, to be in its presence. And angel," he sighs softly, tilting forward so his forehead lightly nudges against yours, "if that ain't me about you."

"Joel," you whisper, fresh tears shining in your eyes. There's nothing else you can really say, nothing that feels right, other than the one thing you've been wanting to say since you arrived, something on the tip of your tongue begging to slip past your lips - but you don't. For now, you just think it, think it with all the warmth and adoration you feel blooming in your chest as you peer at him.

I love you.

You kiss him then, slow. His lips are soft and patient against yours, slightly hesitant, like he's holding himself back - and you suppose he is, considering the situation. He doesn't want to push, doesn't want to assume that what was meant to happen when you got back to the hotel room is still going to happen.

But you already know that it is.

You find that you can now notice the fact that your skin is bare, that he's touching you without anything being in the way, one hand cupped against the soft flesh of your hip while the other still squeezes your hand. It dawns on you that you're wearing the lingerie, the special surprise essentially ruined by your outburst. You frown against his lips.

"What is it?" he murmurs, pulling back to peer at your face, assess your expression.

"I...I bought this for you," you tell him softly, and you watch as his gaze falls to your scantily covered form, "Sorry I ruined the surprise."

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as his eyes trail up and down your body in slow, repetitive movements, like he's only just now fully noticed what you're wearing, taking in absolutely every inch of you - every little embroidered flower, every bare patch of skin. He releases your hand to carefully place both of his palms down on your thighs, the naked part between your panties and the stockings. You watch as he fingers the garter straps, eyes dark.

"Dressed up all pretty for me, huh?" he breathes, thumbs stroking your inner thighs as he brings his gaze back up to meet yours.

"I wanted it to be special," you whisper, "I wanted to wear it when you..." You trail off, mouth going a bit dry all of a sudden.

"Do you still want that, babygirl?" he asks you softly, "Do you still want me to?"

You don't even need to think about it, mull it over in your head or take another breath. You've never been more sure of anything in your life.

"Yes," you whisper, an edge of desperation in your voice, "Please." You kiss him again and he sighs deeply against your mouth, grip tightening on your thighs.

"Say it," he murmurs, teeth nipping lightly at your bottom lip, "Tell me what you want me to do, baby."

You shiver, "Want you to fuck me, Joel," your voice quakes with anticipation, hands balling in his shirt, "Please fuck me."

He doesn't need telling twice; at your words one of his big hands comes up cradle your back again, fingers digging into the soft skin there while his other slips from your thigh and curves around your ass, squeezes. He picks you up again, slips the crucifix into his pocket and stands there without moving as he peers at your face and holds you firmly against his body.

"Please," you whisper again, eyes locked with his as you whimper and buck your hips against him, feel the shape of his half-hard cock rub gently against where you're aching. He looks down without speaking, watches as you pathetically grind your hips, legs tightening around his waist.

"The sweetest girl," he says softly, leaning his face forward to kiss the corner of your mouth, "Already beggin' for my cock, huh?"

You mewl and grind your crotch against him again, already feeling the wetness returning to your panties in slow pulses. He just smiles and finally walks with you to the bed, tilts you downward and lays you out like you're a meal he's about to indulge in, swallow whole. And god, you want him to. Need him to. He pulls back to stand over you, hands going into his pockets as he peers down at you with lust in his eyes.

"Lemme just look at you, babygirl," he says quietly, eyes trailing to your breasts, your bare stomach, your exposed mound and soft thighs. He nudges you over a little bit and then sits on the side of the bed, hand reaching down to stroke one of your arms, slow and gentle, "You look so beautiful."

You lie there, staring up at his face with hooded eyes as you try not to squirm under his gaze. His hand moves from your arm to your shoulder, your shoulder to your collarbone, your collarbone to the space between your breasts. Just like you'd imagined when you'd bought it at the store, he deftly fingers the buttons there a few times, tracing them up and down.

"Pretty," he murmurs, and without warning he slowly slips his hand inside your bra, fingertips brushing your nipple. You whimper again, another surge of arousal dripping into your underwear.

"My sensitive girl," he whispers, brushing it again and smiling when your hips buck, "Are you wet, baby?"

You nod quickly, expression hazy, "Yes."

"How wet?"

Your thighs rub together almost unconsciously, another pathetic sound slipping past your lips, "Really wet, Joel."

He chuckles softly at your impatience, releases your breast and leans down to press a slow and wet kiss to your neck. You moan softly, eyes fluttering closed as his lips trail gently up and down the expanse of your neck, your chest. You feel his hands curve up underneath your back, busying themselves with the latches of your lingerie.

"As much as I could look at you wearin' this for hours," he whispers, "I think theres somethin' under there that deserves my attention." He slips the bra off easily, tugs the straps down your arms and exposes your bare breasts to him, nipples peaked and hard. He immediately captures one in his mouth and starts to suckle gently, hand traveling downward to rest teasingly on your inner thigh.

Fuck, it feels so good. Your eyes roll behind your lids, mouth popping open as you sigh in contentment and just let him play with you. He sucks and licks, nips lightly every so often, travels between both breasts like they were made specifically for him to have in his mouth. Your pussy pulses somewhere below, feeling beyond ignored, and you rub your thighs together again to try to ease some of the pressure. He notices and his hand inches upward to cup you through the material, eliciting a gasp from you.

He pulls off your nipple and you open your eyes to see him peering up at you, eyes almost black, a smirk on his face, "Need your pussy touched again, don't you baby?" You nod, lips turning downwards into a pout, "Okay, sweet girl. I won't tease you too much."

You're very much aware of the fact that Joel is still fully clothed, a fact that you have to admit turns you on a lot more than it probably should. You watch as he crawls on top of you carefully, hooks his legs around you and slowly eases downward, eyes staying locked with yours as he starts kissing his way down your stomach. Your heart rate quickens again, but this time you welcome it.

His fingers play with the straps of your garter as he presses soft kisses to the tops of your thighs, the dips of your waist. You shiver when he presses gentle kisses to your mound, fingers slipping inside the band of your lingerie and carefully tugging it down to expose your pussy to him, wet and aching. He pulls back to look at it, expression one of pure lust as he thumbs one of your lips and pushes it open.

"There she is," he murmurs, "The sweetest little pussy."

"Joel," you moan, closing your eyes and focusing entirely on the way he thumbs your outer lip, caresses it softly like it's something precious and fragile. He dips his thumb further inside and brushes against your folds, sending another thick and syrupy drop of release onto his fingers.

"Look at her pulse, baby," he says, voice husky and dark, "Droolin' for me."

You open your eyes again, watch him lean down and lick a stripe through your dripping folds, collecting the juices on his tongue. You whimper when he swallows and leans in to press a whiskery kiss to your clit, already puffy and twitching.

"She's cryin' for my cock, honey," he breathes, "Been waitin' so long, been so patient."

"Please," you whisper, and his gaze meets yours again, "Please put it in." The words are filthy and full of desperation, your brow furrowing in pleasure as his thumb slowly begins to circle your clit, "I need it."

"I know, sweet girl," he whispers, "But you gotta wait just a little bit longer, gotta let me taste this perfect little cunt first," he presses kisses along your folds, kitten licks past them a bit to slip the tip of his tongue just barely inside your hole. You whine, hand coming down to touch his hair while the other grabs one of your breasts and begins to toy with your nipple, as if on instinct.

He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, hands coming up to grip your waist and hold you still as he starts to eat you out. Just like the first time, it's beyond overwhelming, your eyes shutting tight and your teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip as his mouth does sinful things to the most intimate part of you. He plunges his tongue inside and buries the curve of his nose in your clit, rubbing it up and down, back and forth, while you whine and whimper above him. Your fingers tangle in his hair and holds his face firm between your legs while he tastes and devours.

"Joel," you keep whimpering, unable to stop from saying his name every chance you get, a reminder to yourself that you're really here with him right now, that he's the one making you feel this way. He barely pulls up for breath, scruff glistening with your release as he pleasures you relentlessly, arm coming up to splay across your belly and push you down into the mattress, holding you firm.

He makes you come easily, but that's no surprise. Just like in the truck earlier, you cry out and toss your head back, body shaking through your orgasm as he sucks on your clit and slips one of his fingers easily inside of you, curves it and makes your body rise up off the bed in pleasure as you shiver and squirm.

"Good girl," he tells you softly when he releases your clit from his mouth, looks up at you with dark lips and messy hair, "That's my good girl."

Only for you Joel, you want to whisper, but you're too blissed out to speak, Only wanna be a good girl for you.

You feel him press soothing kisses around your pussy, finger still slowly pumping in and out as you calm your breathing. He pulls it out and brings it to his lips, sucks it with a deep groan, "God, you taste so good," he murmurs, resting his head for a moment on your thigh and inhaling deeply, "So fuckin' sweet, babygirl."

You remember the first time he'd tasted you, remember how you'd come so hard you'd seen stars, remember how he'd come in his pants. The thought makes you sit up on your hands, look down at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Did you come?" you ask, slightly worried for a moment.

He laughs, pulls his head up and begins to crawl back to you with a smile on his face, "No, not this time. That was a moment of weakness." He cups your face and and looks down at you with a soft expression, "You wanna taste yourself?"

Without any hesitation, you nod. Joel leans down and presses his lips to yours, eases his tongue inside and lets you indulge in your own release, your own special flavor. You've never really tasted anything like it before, unsure how exactly to describe it - you're not sure you'd really call it sweet, but it's not bad by any means, just... different.

"Good?" he asks.

You shrug, "It's... interesting."

He chuckles, pulling his face back, "How're you feelin'? You wanna stop?" You look up at him like he's crazy and he laughs again, putting his hands up, "Okay, okay, just askin'."

"I want-" you cut yourself off, feeling blood rush to your cheeks, and he peers down at you softly.

"What d'you want, babygirl?" he murmurs, "I'll give it to you."

You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, finger the buttons there, "I want this off," you breathe, "Want all of it off."

He nods slowly, eyes hooded as his eyes fall to your wet lips, "Okay, what else?"

"Want you to fuck me," you whisper again, as if he doesn't already know. Your hand reaches downward to carefully cup the long shape of him through his pants with trembling fingers, "Want it inside."

He reaches down, covers your hand with his and squeezes softly, "You want what inside, baby? Words."

"Your cock," you whisper, edged with a whine, "Want your cock inside me, Joel. Please. No more teasing."

He smiles softly, "Okay, baby. No more teasin'."

Watching him undress sends tingles all throughout your body, lips parting as he undoes the buttons of his shirt and tosses it to the floor, reaches for his belt buckle and slowly starts to unfurl it. He keeps his eyes on your face, watches your expression as you bite your lip and assess the way his cock juts out underneath his pants, begging to be taken out and touched, played with. The thought makes you sit up on the bed, lean toward the edge and dig a few of your fingers into his waistband, pulling him closer.

He watches as you slowly move forward to mouth his cock through his pants, lips parting and stretching around the big shape. You sigh in contentment at the feeling of it pulsing through the material against your tongue, drag your mouth up and down a few times as a whimper gurgles in your throat.

"Thought you said no more teasin'," he murmurs, and you feel his hand come to rest at the back of your head, helping you move. You moan softly around his length and you can practically hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Just need it so bad, don't you?"

You do. You can't count the number of days you've thought about it now, thought about it against your face, your thighs, your pussy. You want it everywhere - you want him everywhere. You've waited so long and you're tired of being patient, of waiting for the right time, the right moment. It's here, it's now, and you're ready.

"Please," you breathe again, pulling your mouth off his clothed cock and looking up at him with wide, almost tear-filled eyes, "Please fuck me, Mr. Miller."

His eyes go dark and the smile fades from his lips, hands coming down to unzip and unbutton quickly as you lay back on the bed and open your legs. It takes no time at all for him to be completely naked, pants and underwear thrown haphazardly off to the side while he crawls back on top of you and starts kissing your neck again, skin rough and warm. Your hands come up to grip his bare back, eyes closing as you let him silently worship you, kiss every inch of skin he can reach.

You can feel the heavy length of him on your thigh, settled there as it pulses and leaks. It's so big, so thick, and you can't help but reach down and engulf it in your small fist, fingers still unable to go all the way around. He groans into your skin, pulls back to look at you again.

"D'you want me to use a condom, babygirl?" he asks, even though he knows the answer - he wants to hear you say it, which you appreciate.

"No," you whisper, "Please don't."

He groans again at your words, reaches his hand down and easily slips two of his fingers inside of you without any resistance. You're so ready, have never felt more ready for anything in your entire life. You know you should be reveling in the moment, taking time to enjoy and appreciate - but at the same time you just want him inside of you already, want to be connected to him in the rawest of ways, complete. You can't wait anymore, you can't. He starts to add his third finger and you whine, wishing it was something else.

"Gotta open you up a little more, sweetheart," he tells you quietly, filling you with all three fingers and slowly starting to pump them in and out, "Want this to feel good for you, don't wanna hurt you."

"I want your cock, Joel," you mewl, tears welling in your eyes.

"Shhh," he kisses you gently, fucks you slow, "I know, baby, I know. Just a minute now, sweetheart. Be patient for me."

"Don't wanna be patient," you're starting to sound like a bit of a brat but you really don't care, the desperate and touch-starved part of you just aching to be filled up, held close, fucked deep. "Wanna feel you in my stomach, please."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, almost a groan as he pulls his fingers from you and drags them against his cock, taking it from you carefully and then pumping himself twice with your release, "Okay, babygirl, I hear you, I got you."

Joel eases himself downwards carefully, hovering over you like he had last weekend. He kisses you again, soft and safe, a quiet reminder that what's about to happen means more than what it seems like on paper, means more than either of you could even articulate. He peers into your eyes tenderly, reaches up to push some stray hairs out of your face.

"I'm gonna go real slow," he tells you, "You tell me the second somethin' doesn't feel right, okay? Promise me."

"I promise," you whisper, hands splaying across his back and pulling him down further so your breasts are pushing softly against the hair on his chest, impossibly close. You just wanna feel him, feel all of him.

When he says slow - he means slow.

You'd felt the tip of him last weekend, were already anticipating the burn and stretch, but this time there's not the same desperation, the same time limit or rush. Now you have all the time in the world, the clarity to take it as slowly as you need to in order to really feel everything, make it count. You feel the shape of his wide head carefully nudge the tiniest bit into your throbbing heat, and your eyes immediately go wide.

"You're okay," he reminds you softly, just like he had last time, "You're alright, angel."

Your nails dig into his back and you nod, peering up at him with a look that you hope says, I know, and I trust you, because you do. He kisses you gently and you feel his hand at your thigh, pushing you open a little wider for easier access. The garter strap strains against your legs but neither of you make any move to remove it.

He pushes inside a little further, his whole tip crowding the space at your entrance once again. You make an odd sound, something that comes from the back of your throat, and he freezes.

"Okay?" he asks, and you frantically nod. "That's the tip of me, baby. You got it, you're doin' so good."

"More," you whisper, voice breaking, "More, please."

He reaches his hand back up and locks it into place on the headboard above you, holds himself up as his knees dig into the plush cotton of the duvet. With his other hand he slowly eases more of his cock inside, just a little bit.

"Fuck," you hiss, and you can feel it now - the burn, the stretch. It's not painful by any means, but it's not comfortable either. You make a face and Joel stills, brow furrowing.

"Hurts?" he asks softly.

"N-not really," you breathe, "It's just - it's really thick."

He kisses you again, noses the side of your face and inhales deeply, "You tell me when to move," he murmurs, "You're in control from this point forward, babygirl. What you say goes."

You take a few deep breaths, eyes closed as you hold Joel to you and revel in the way he peppers tiny little kisses all over your face, your nose, your eyelids. Now it's his turn to be patient, and he's certainly much better at it than you are.

"Okay," you breathe after a moment, "Okay, you can move."

He inches in another little bit and your hips stutter, hands trembling against his back. You don't say anything, just grip him tighter and bite down on your lip - more stretch, more burn. But there's something about it, something about the odd sensation of being spread open, that has your pussy suddenly throbbing - and you whine.

"Tell me to pull out and I will," he murmurs in your ear, "We can spend some more time-"

"No," you whimper, shaking your head, "No, Joel. It feels good." You grip tighter to him and tangle your ankles with his, wanting to be even closer than you already are, "Keep going, please."

It goes like that for a while - a continuous push, inch by inch, a whine or whimper, a check-in from Joel, reassurance that you're alright, then the cycle starts again. You quickly grow accustomed to his girth, the stretch getting significantly less and less the longer he stays pressed inside of you. You're painfully aware that this probably isn't the sexiest experience for him, that he'd probably much prefer being able to go deep and stay deep and pound you senseless - and as much as that thought also appeals to you, you know there's no way your body could handle it on the first go.

"M'sorry," you mumble to him quietly during another moment of adjustment, both of you laying still while a little more than half his cock sits patiently inside of you.

"For what?" his eyes scrunch, confusion clear on his face.

"F-for taking forever to get used to it," you admit apologetically, eyes going downcast, "Especially after I begged so many times."

He shakes his head, eyes narrowing, "Do not apologize for somethin' like that, sweetheart. This is about you, not me."

"But I'm-" you take a breath, forcing yourself to be honest, to not keep your worries inside no matter what, especially in such an intimate moment like this, "I'm scared you're not enjoying yourself."

His eyes widen, "Not enjoyin' myself?" He almost laughs, light and soft, "Sweetheart, do you have any idea how fuckin' good you feel?" You shake your head and he leans down to kiss you, moans softly against your lips, "Your pussy's so tight around me, sweet girl" he whispers, "She's pulsin' around my cock, it feels fuckin' incredible."

Your thighs tighten a bit against his waist, center throbbing once again at his words. He groans, and it finally sets in that every throb you feel, every pulsation, every twitch, he can feel it too. Because he's inside of you.

"You're inside me," you whisper, and it sounds like such a dumb revelation but you don't care, lip trembling a little bit as your fingers stroke gently against his back.

"I'm inside you," he echoes, voice soft and reassuring, "M'not goin' anywhere, baby. Gonna take it as slow as you need me to."

He's so gentle, so tender, it makes you want to cry. How did you get so lucky to be having your first time with someone like this? Someone who genuinely wants you to feel good, feel taken care of? Someone who feels beyond amazing? His cock is so big, so perfect; he feeds it to you over the next few minutes, makes you whine and cry out in the dim light of the hotel room, legs trembling and hands coming up to cover your eyes as he finally bottoms out, finally eases himself completely inside of you - and stills.

Full. You're so full. It's the only word that seems to cross your mind, any and all other vocabulary going completely out the window the longer you lay there with his cock buried deep inside. He carefully pulls your hands back from your face and kisses you again and again, murmuring praise.

"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, "Takin' it so well, such a good girl."

It's not that filthy of a thing to say, but his words do something to you then that you can't really explain. Odd sounds escape your throat, slip past your lips pathetically as you squirm a bit beneath him. Your eyes shut tight, heart beating fast, not a thought in your brain other than the fact that there's a huge appendage lodged so deep inside of you that you can't even think, can't speak.

"I know," he's whispering, carding his fingers through your hair, "I know, baby. That cock is so big, I know, I know," he kisses your temple, holds you close, "So big inside that little pussy."

"Joel," is all you manage to whimper out, toes curling in pleasure, "Joel."

"I know," he murmurs again, and you swear he pushes his hips forward just a little bit more, the heavy shape of his balls pressing firmly against your ass, "I'm in your tummy, baby, just like you wanted."

At his words your shaky hand travels downward to feel your stomach, press your palm against the skin there, and your eyes snap open when you realize you can feel him there - near the bottom of your tummy, feel the long and thick shape of him bulging out from beneath.

"Fuck," you breathe, and his eyes meet yours, dark and hungry, "Fuck, I f-feel it."

His hand comes down and covers yours, helps you move the garter belt out of the way to shape your fingers around the long shape of him. You can feel the fat head pulsing deep within you, pushing against something you didn't even know was there, every throb sending constant gushes of release around his cock. You must be a mess down there, slick dripping down your thighs as you whine again and reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair.

"Ohmygod," the words are almost slurred, garbled, and you're realizing very quickly that talking with a cock inside of you is very difficult. Your thighs squeeze together again and Joel groans.

"God, you feel so fuckin' incredible," his expression is wrecked, plump lips parted as he inhales and exhales, "You're chokin' my cock, honey."

You can't wrap your mind around the fact that this isn't it, that simply having his cock buried deep inside you isn't the actual sex itself. Because how can just this feel so good? How can you feel so close, so full, so wonderful, all from just this?

Joel leans down and buries his face in the pillow, nudges his nose to your ear and whispers, "D'you want me to move, babygirl?" to which you immediately respond, "Yes."

At your okay he slowly eases himself out of you, the sensation unlike anything you've ever felt before as inch by inch he leaves your body until just the head sits heavy and waiting at your entrance. He looks down at you, thumbs your cheek, and murmurs, "Who's my good girl?"

You shiver, moan softly, eyes closing again, "I am," you whisper.

Just as slow, he pushes himself back inside, and you cry out and bury your face into his neck, legs shaking.

"Who is?" he asks you again, burying himself to the hilt and stroking up and down your naked body gently with one hand, "Who's my good girl? Tell me again, angel."

"I am," you repeat, a bit louder this time and drenched in pleasure as he slowly pulls out again, leaving you almost empty. "Joel," you whisper, and he pulls his face back to look at you, nipping at your bottom lip and pouting at your already fucked-out expression, "Joel, it feels so good."

"I know, baby," he murmurs, then eases himself back in, brings your hands down to your stomach again to feel the way his cock protrudes lewdly against the skin, "You're takin' it so well."

"I-I've-" you whimper, tears overflowing, "I've n-never-"

I've never felt like this before, you want to say. I've never felt so close to another human in my life. I've never wanted to live in a moment more than I want to live in this one.

Instead, he just brings a finger to your lips, eases himself out again and murmurs, "I know," like it's a mantra, "I know."

You feel him thumb your clit and you can't believe that anything could feel this good, that anything could even compare to the way it feels to have Joel everywhere like this, so deep inside and above and all around, his scent lingering in every move he makes, his hair pressing firm to the softest parts of your body. He's so warm, so safe, and more than anything all you can think about is that thought from before, the one you know now to be absolute - I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

He keeps the pace slow, doesn't let go of you or pull away even once. You already know you're not gonna last, not with his thumb rubbing you like that and his cock so unrelenting and huge inside of you, filling you up in a way you never thought possible. You're pretty sure that you've only got one more orgasm left in you tonight but you don't feel worried or stressed out by that fact - you have a whole weekend for more of this, to explore and experience and enjoy.

"I'm gonna come, Joel," you breathe, and you can feel tears stinging your eyes as you say the words, "I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come."

"Okay, baby, that's it," he encourages you softly, thumb unrelenting against your clit, "Lemme feel you come, angel. Let it out for me. Give it to me, sweetheart." And you do.

Coming around his cock feels fucking incredible. Your pussy tightens and throbs, releases more slick than you could even imagine, and you feel yourself start to cry, tears flowing down your face as a sob wracks from your throat as you pull him down on top of you. He fucks you through it, groaning in your ear at the way you continue to choke his cock, tight and firm.

"Fuck," he groans, "Fuck, angel, I don't think I can last."

"Then don't," you cry into his ear, eyes shut tight as your body convulses, "Don't wait, Joel. Want you to come inside me, want it so bad."

He makes an unhinged noise, his thrusts becoming a little faster, a little more erratic. Without warning you kick your legs up to wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer and letting out another loud moan when you both hear the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. He's so deep. So, so, so deep. Just like he said he'd be.

"Fuck," he mumbles in your ear, "Fuck, I'm comin', honey, I'm comin'." At his words you feel the massive length of him pulse deep inside, your walls constricting around the intrusive shape as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth opening in a silent gasp of pleasure as you feel the warm spurts of his come begin to coat your walls, filling you up.

"Joel," you breathe, and you're pretty sure your nails have broken the skin of his back but he doesn't seem to care - if anything it makes him groan even louder, makes him pull back to look at you and make direct eye contact as he empties himself. You stare at each other, eyes wide, lips parted, and he leans forward to press his forehead to yours as his jaw clenches.

The moment he's finished coming he falls on top of you with his entire body weight, something you welcome instantly. Your hands roam up and down his back, feel the crescent moon shapes lining his skin as you close your eyes and let the reality of what's just happened wash over you, settle into your very being. It's only when you shift a little underneath him that Joel finally pulls himself up to look at you. He's so beautiful, hair a mess, lips red and raw, cheeks flushed, and tears shining in his soft brown eyes. He nuzzles his nose against yours and breathes a long sigh, one of satisfaction and contentment.

"Stay inside me," you whisper. You don't know why it's the first thing you say, but somehow it feels like the most important. Because the idea of him separating from you now after what you've just shared, the idea of not being within his embrace or feeling as connected as you feel right now - it sounds like the worst thing in the world.

"Okay, angel," he murmurs, eyes sleepy, "M'not goin' anywhere."

You close your eyes, breathe him in.

I love you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #fic: feelings on fire #*

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catcze · 1 year ago

Note

I just read the “you won’t regret marrying me” for wriothesley and let me tell that this man is definitely going to cry on the wedding day

related 'you won't regret marrying me' fanfic here ! OH OH OH OHHH HE SO TOTALLY WOULD ?!??!? Like;;;; anon. when i tell u i got a vision when i received ur ask and i had to type it IMMEDIATELY thank u for sharing your thoughts im a mess now LMAO

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

GUYS I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH I ALMOST CRIED WRITING IT DONT LET IT FLOP PLS 💔

i like to think that you're both a bit unconventional with how you go about your wedding— for one, you had gone to each others' fitting for your wedding day outfit. Wriothesley had damn near cried when he saw you in the wedding garb that you would eventually choose as your piece— he had barely managed to keep it together when he saw his engagement ring on your finger, and you dressed in white, looking so breathtaking, and his to be together with forever.

He had to turn towards the corner in the fitting room for a second, frantically wiping his eyes and willing not to cry, because he was up next after you, and he didn't want his fitting to be with puffy red eyes. You had clung to his back, giggling at how cute and sweet he is, all the while you petted his back and hair comfortingly.

On your wedding day, though? All cards are off the table. He doesn't care about keeping his composure in front of the audience. Doesn't care that even Furina is there, or that Neuvillette is there, or even Navia or the traveller. He doesn't give two shits about how he's the Duke of Meropide, and he has a reputation to uphold.

The moment those big, grand doors open and you walk yourself down the aisle, a beaming grin on your face, he fucking cracks. He sniffles first, and there's itchiness in his eyes, and then fuck, tears are genuinely welling up in his eyes, and he groans, pressing his palms into his eyes to stem the stream of tears, but it's absolutely no use.

Because fuck, he's here, you're here, you're both wearing white, there are the rings, and you're about to get married. You're about to spend the rest of your life with him, and you look so excited for it. It makes his stomach flip like crazy, makes his brain turn to mush because he loves you so much, doesn't want to spend a single day not being yours for the rest of eternity.

He sobs into his hands, and Neuvillette, who's officiating the wedding, hands him a handkerchief, which he dabs at his eyes with, to no use. He can't stop the tears from flowing, because he's so happy.

And oh, you have a trembling smile on your face when you reach him, willing yourself not to cry too because you just know that if you do, you'll be a teary mess just like him, and the wedding will never finish at that rate. But you can't stop yourself from rushing into his chest, wrapping your arms around to hold him, and he holds you back too on pure instinct— buries his face in your hair as you bury yours in the crook of his neck.

"We made it," you tell him, squeezing his body to yours, smiling through the tears.

Wriothesley gives another hiccuping sob, holding you so close you think you could pop like a balloon. He leans further into you, like he wants to melt into your very person. "Yeah, sweetheart," he breathes, voice shaky. "We made it."

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley

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the-fiction-witch · 11 months ago

Text

I'm Gonna Kill Him

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Angsty Smut!

Requested:

Hello! Before I start, I just wanted to say that I love your book so much! Could you create an imagine or a smut scene from your Jack Dawkins' book where they've broken up, and Y/N visits Jack's place that led them to having a angry/makeup sex? Then, a week later, Y/N discovers she's pregnant with his baby, which ultimately brings them back together.

Warnings : angst / angry sex, cheating, slapping, spanking, choking, biting,

I didn't want to go back, I felt like I was never going to hear the end of it.

But I want my damn book back.

So I got myself dressed into my black and emerald dress doing my utmost to look beautiful and glamorous, If I have to see him then god damn it he's gonna have to look at me like I'm a princess.

I finished up and headed out into town making sure I was seen, making a point to be seen by men until I reached the hospital. I headed in proudly seeing the usual bustle of nurses and patience.

"Ohh Miss Y/n, Dr Dawkins is in his room" Hetty smiled as she saw me

"Thank you Hetty" I smiled

"He has said he didn't want you in there miss y/n"

"I'm well aware of what he wants." I rolled my eyes as I headed up to his room not even bothering to knock simply opened the door and saw Jack lying on his bed fiddling with a coin between his fingers, he looked up and looked annoyed

"Ohh. What do you want?"

"You know exactly what I want. Where is it?"

"I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about"

"Where is my book, Jack?"

"How should I know?"

"I left it here, I missed it when I was packing, I know you have it, where is it?"

"Why would I want your mouldy old book? I don't have it." He snapped getting up from his bed

"I know you do, you're just keeping it to be hurtful"

"Hurtful! I'm not the one who went bloody psycho !"

"PSYCHO!"

"You heard me!"

"I wasn't the one who violated the sanctity of a union"

"Ohh here we go again! I didn't violate anything!"

"You liar!"

"At least she didn't kick me out of bloody bed in the morning!"

"So you admit it!"

"Yeah fine, I admit it! does that soothe your ego princess!"

Immediately I slapped him across the face and he didn't even flinch

".... I will never hit a woman. But your making it really fucking tempting!"

"Ohh go on then you scrawny little shit I'd like to see you try!"

"I was a naval officer you think I can't take a little lady in a fight!"

"Officer! Like hell, you only were because you sat on the right laps!"

"How dare you!" He yelled, "You repugnant little witch!"

I went to slap him again but he grabbed my wrist before I could throwing my arm back

"Ohh you gonna hit me with your parasol too?" He glared

"You are an unbelievable bastard! I can't believe I-"

"You what?"

"I can't believe I even considered us for a moment!"

"Yeah well same here! I dodged a bloody bullet. I'd have spent my life stuck married to you!"

"Ohh I'd have made your life a living hell every second of it just for the thrill of it!"

"You would wouldn't you! you'd have turned me into some little pitiful house husband just to spide me wouldn't you!"

"I would I'd have torn you down so low you'd be looking up to kiss my feet!" I yelled "And I'd have taken pleasure in it you evil man! treacherous! fuckwit!"

He grabbed my waist and pulled me into a kiss, I was so very angry with him, I wanted to slap him off me but I didn't want to kiss him back I wanted to win! I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of my submission, So I kissed him with force, trying to take control, but he would not allow that so easily forcing his tongue down my throat but I argued with him even at this moment battling with him in a war of our tongues, I grabbed his shirt desperate for control but he grabbed my waist and unlaced my dress, making quick work of it given his quick nibble surgeons fingers, I didn't want him to win so I began unbuttoning his trousers, once undone he grabbed my waist and forced me down onto the bed But I grabbed his hips and forced him down flat on the mattress

"Don't you even think about it!" He groaned flipping us over so I was under him

"I refuse to be under such a bastard." I gritted my teeth

"You can ride me if you wish."

"Not on your life."

"Open your legs, Or I'll bend you over it's up to you."

"Maybe I'll bend you over."

"You would you little succubus!"

"Well, how else was I meant to keep up with you!"

"You always did you were a little Fucking whore for me" He growled forcing off my dress "God damn it you are an evil, conniving, little witch but god had to give you that fucking body didn't he!"

"He didn't have to make you such an unreasonable, arrogant, illiterate, Imbosile but here we are" I smirked clawing as his shirt

"And we both know what he gave me to make up for that" He growled pulling his suspenders off his shoulders and forcing off his shirt as he pulled me into another aggressive kiss I clawed down his chest almost drawing blood as he forced me on my knees,

"Don't even think about it, Jack!" I glared but he forced my hips up to his and dug his nails into my ass

"I'll do much more than think about it" he smirked pushing off his trousers and forcing himself inside me,

as much as I hated it, my anger bubbling in my bones, but... I moaned as I had missed the feeling of him inside me, he didn't waste a single moment starting his fast and angsty thrusts, pounding into me like his life utterly depended on it, I moved my hips back trying to take control but I think it was a little late for that even so I made sure to force him into the pace I wanted which only frustrated him more, the bed creaking and squeaking, his violent grunts and groans much the sounds one would make in a fight tumbling from behind me until he began to slow his breaths getting looser

"That all you got little boy?" I smirked moving myself

"I. Am. Not. A boy!" He groaned grabbing my hair and pulling on it to bring my ear to his lips "Don't make have to teach my succubus a lesson!" He growled bitting on my shoulder

"Ughhhhhh! Uhhhhh!" I squealed given his pace didn't stop his angle hitting where I needed "You whore so bad you missed me this much?!"

"Missed you? You know what I did I missed your pussy princess I've got it just how I love it. But we wanna talk about who missed who, who came here showing off like she was the fucking queen all for her little fucking book back"

"and you caved this quickly? I thought you had more resilience than that Jack?"

"Not around you I don't" He smirked moving a hand to rub my clit

"Uhhhhhh!" I gasped and he forced me back down onto the pillow "See I knew you missed me" I gasped

"You can't blame me for missing a pussy I've fucked for the last two years. took a long time to get you this good."

"Like I didn't train you" I smirked "Jack please-"

"Yeah? you need me that bad you had to come see me?" he cooed "Cause you know I'm the only person in port victoria who can make you cum"

"I can do it myself then I don't have to deal with your bloody ego!"

"fine, then I'll stop-" He smirked going to sloe

"Don't you fucking dare Jack!" I groaned forcing him to move quicker until I almost ripped his sheets as I screamed reaching my high

"fuck you sound good like that" He groaned "I could almost put up with your shit for that noise"

"I bet you could" I smirked forcing us over so he was down on his back

"I knew you couldn't resist" He smirked

"You dare I will slap that smirking face of yours" I warn moving to ride him as aggressively as possible

"UGhhhhhhhh fucking- you evil little thing"

"shut up Jack," I warn bouncing and moving mercilessly on him

"Come on then princess make me cum" He smirked

"I said shut up!" I yelled wrapping my hands around his neck to slightly choke him

"UUughhhhhhhhhh!" he groans "Fuck-" He gasped his hips bucking like crazy as he buried himself inside of me so I pulled my hands back and caught my breath "Fine. I admit it. I've missed you" he gasped

"Fine. I missed you too." I sighed climbing off him and going to get my dress but he grabbed me and pulled me back into the bed so he could cuddle me my head on his chest

"Now you have... all of that out of your system, and have had time to pout. am I allowed to actually explain myself?"

"What's there to explain, you fucked her Jack. Plain and simple, what do you have to explain?"

"Will you listen anyway?" He asked stroking my hair

"Fine. If you want to waste your breath."

"She has a problem"

"ohh I bet she did-"

"No. Listen. shut your mouth a while and listen to what I'm saying." he snapped "She has a problem, a medical problem, inoperable, incurable, she'll be dead within the month if not sooner" he explained quietly as he gently pets my hair "She was an innocent"

"was she? I bet she told you that." I said back almost in a whisper

"Y/n. I swear to you, she told me, in confidence that she was an innocent, given the state of her condition she accepted her death and had began to make arrangements for the future,"

"And where do you come into all this?"

"I'm her doctor. I've been treating her. She asked me to... she said of all the things in this world that she will miss, she wanted to feel the touch of a man just once in her life." He whispered "So I did, Yes I fucked her. Should I have done it... I don't know. But do I regret it? No. would I do it again, I frankly don't know. I'm not sure I would If I'd have known I'd lose you because of it."

"Why you? She could have asked many, barely a man in Port Victoria that wouldn't want to fuck a virgin."

"Because I'm her doctor, and I was engaged. She trusted me. She didn't want to be used like some old whore she wanted to feel loved, and she knew she could trust me because I'm her doctor, and she wouldn't leave a man utterly in love with her behind, because she knew I loved you."

"Is that true?"

"Why would I lie to you now? you've already left me."

"why didn't you just tell me that?"

"Because I fucked another woman plain and simple... you didn't want to listen and it would only dig myself deeper if I did"

"...it wasn't what you did Jack."

"No?"

"No. I just wish you'd have told me first."

"What?" he asked sitting up a little

"If you had come to me, and told me about her, about her illness, about what she had asked of you. I'd have allowed it."

"No, you wouldn't-"

"I would. Because it is a kind thing to do Jack, if I was dying I'd have asked you too. I wish you had come and asked me, I'd have allowed it, but instead, I had to find out afterwards, from Sneed of all people not even you, that you broke my trust."

"I know, I was just worried you'd be angry if I told you."

"I was more angry you didn't"

"That's fair." He nods "I fucked up, and I know that. it doesn't matter now... She's dead anyway."

"What?"

"Passed away this morning."

"I'm sorry Jack-"

"It's fine. she doesn't have to suffer anymore. I'm happy, I could make her final days somewhat enjoyable"

"You're kind, and sweet when you want to be"

"I am sorry. Believe me."

"Well... it doesn't matter now does it."

"I guess not." he sighed "She didn't even call me Jack."

"No?"

"No. Just Doctor Dawkins" He chuckled

"Did you use her name?"

"I did. I wanted to make her feel loved... But I thought of you." He whispered kissing my forehead

"You did?"

"I did. I imagined her body as yours, her voice as yours," He said "You know you're the only girl who can satisfy me. so I thought of you"

"... I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse." I sighed

"Y/n..."

"Yes, Jack?"

"Is there, any possibility, no matter how slim? That, you and I may... rekindle even a portion of what we had before?"

"I doubt it, Jack." I said moving to see his face "I will always love you, but I can't forgive you."

"Could I do anything for you to forgive me?"

"No. Once trust is broken... like a delicate vase chattered, the pieces may be placed back, but you will always see the crack." I explained "Who's to say... another girl, in a similar state, asks the same of you, I cannot trust that you wouldn't do it again"

"... I understand." he nods "And I am sorry. I will always love you, you know that. No matter what you do, or say, my heart will always be yours."

"And Mine yours." I smiled giving him a sweet kiss "I should go." I said climbing out the bed and starting to get dressed again

"I don't know what I'm gonna do without you," he said as he watched me dress

"I'm sure you shall find ladies to spend of the evening."

"It's not the evening that worries me, it's the mornings, and the middays, and the afternoons, and the middle of the nights, a fuck is a fuck, but when you cum it's over, with you... every moment and all of it felt like heaven"

"Well, such are the consequences of your actions." I sighed "Now? my book."

He rolled his eyes sitting up slipping his trousers on and pulling my book from under his mattress

"Thank you" I snapped taking it back "A reason you kept it?"

"...reminds me of you."

"You always complained you couldn't read it. my stupid spider scrawl handwriting"

"I can't. but I know what it says... when I read it, chasing the words around the page I- I heard your voice reading it to me"

for a moment I felt teary "Keep it." I said handing back the book

"No." he said pushing it back into my hand and kissing my lips in a soft and gentle way "Please don't labour me with memories of you."

"Alright," I nodded "Goodbye Jack."

"Goodbye Y/n" He nods fighting back his tears

I took my book and I left heading home.

I sat in bed fresh as the morning sun, unable to bring myself to rise just yet, I turned and saw my book on my bedside table and I thought of him, for a moment all our nights of enthroned passion returned, I thought of our last night together over a month ago now of angst and anger, I thought of how he held me that night, how he kissed me still with all the love that he had always done so,

I thought of the most wonderful moments, Of how his head would settle in my lap after the day's work, I would twist and knot my fingers in his golden locks, he would press a kiss to my thighs, and I would read to him, all that I had written, and he would offer me suggestions of words that suited better, listing synonyms for me to replace the overused words.

I forced such thoughts away and sat myself up checking the day on my calendar I knew what to expect today pulling back my covers but- they were as white as sheep. This couldn't be? I was late already. I tried not to allow panic to set in given my typical irregularities.

"Miss I have brought your you porridge with honey" The maid smiled as she came through with my breakfast but the simple smell was enough

"Out." I demanded throwing my head off my bed to upturn my stomach into the bucket I had left there, and she scurried away. "No... No this can't be possible." I forced myself up and over to my mirror pulling back my nightie to expose my stomach it didn't look any different or maybe it did... I don't know. and the memory of that night flooded into my mind, of him finishing burying himself inside me as I rode him, "No... no no no.... I'm gonna kill him..." I whined grabbing my dress and hurrying as fast as my feet could to the hospital rushing up to his room without a word. But I froze up as I saw his door-

to think of all that had happened, How I stormed out, I'd returned once and clearly that was an awful mistake I- didn't exactly feel thrilled I was returning yet again. but I knocked and soon enough he pulled it open.

"Oh, its you. What can I do for you?" He asked fixing his waistcoat

"I need you." I told him rushing into his room

"Uhh okay" He nods shutting his door with a wicked smile "So... Shall I repeat our last night my darling?"

"No." I snapped "I need your... medical, Intervention"

"my medical intervention?"

"Yes."

"You realize patients have to wait in the waiting room you know, you can't just come up to a doctor's bedroom to get seen faster, even if it is you."

"Jack. Please." I told him fear in my voice tears in my eyes and he melted his own panic set in

"What is it?"

"I am... so very scared Jack."

"Alright just sit down, tell me what's wrong," he said helping me to sit on his bed

"My monthly time is late."

"Alright, well such thing can happen you have been stressed these few weeks" He explained nervously pacing around his room as I spoke

"Over a month."

"Perhaps simple change in your cycle"

"I have been vomiting."

"A bad fish may have simply turned your stomach," he said his fear growing as he too was coming to the conclusion I had already suspected but he didn't want it to be true, he didn't want to believe me,

"My waist grows... Inch by inch. Almost weekly. gaining speed steadily"

"Bloating. could simply-"

"Jack. I might be pregnant."

"You might." He nods "It could be a million other-"

"I. Might be pregnant." I told him getting to my feet "By the grace of god I need to know."

"I'd need to track your cycle completely, and I don't have that information."

"You had it as up to date as I did until I left and I haven't bleed since so-"

"Well, how do I know what you've been doing?" He glared So I slapped him and he adjusted his jaw a little "How am I to know who the father is?"

"You." I said and the colour drained from his skin "I have never been touched by another man as long as I have lived. If I am pregnant... It is yours. or it is gods."

"It can't be mine. I always-"

"Not always, Our last evening together..."

"Fuck-" He gasped "I have thought of that night a hundred times, your right. I didn't"

"So, Doctor. What do we do?"

"I need a rabbit." He sighed

I had to return to the hospital, to Jack twice daily once in the morning, once at night and each day, for three days, and I had to drink a whole jug of water and well... expel it. and this was the final time.

"There, Now will we know?" I asked

"Yes. we should do" He said as he took it in a firm needle "shhh shhh there's a good girl" He cooed to the little rabbit on the table, I had since after all these days named her hoppy, and he injected her "Five minutes" he said

"I do not understand how these things work" I sighed

"You want me to explain?"

"Not really."

"Fair enough." He said turning to his tools a moment and grabbing a large knife

"Jack- What are you doing!"

"Finding out" He began moving quickly to-

"No!" I yelped stopping him "Jack! that's barbaric."

"I have been injecting her with your urine for the last three days, if her ovaries are enlarged and she has gone into heat then you are pregnant, if she hasn't you are not."

"Is there no way to check without killing her?"

"No. now do you want to know or not?"

"There must be a simpler way."

"Yes, there is. we wait nine months and see if a baby pops out of you."

"You know we can't do that. but that doesn't mean I allow you to butcher an innocent animal"

We both stopped a moment as hoppy moved a little and began humping the blanket she sat on aggressively

"I'd say she's in heat"

"I need to check. for sure."

"Fine" I sighed

"I'll be quick, painless" he said making quick work of killing the poor thing before then cutting it open to examine her

"And?"

".... her ovaries are Enlarged. Extremely so. She is in heat." He said dropping his knife on the table

"So..."

"You're pregnant."

"... I see." I nodded my hands settling on my stomach in absolute fear but Jack took my face in his hand and sweetly kissed me sending blood across my skin, till he pulled back stroking his nose on mine as he always used to

"This is the happiest news you could have given me."

"Happy? Jack, I am pregnant out of wedlock. My father will banish me, society will crucify me, and our child will suffer as a bastard all of its life." I explained, "What am I to do?"

"I know exactly what you are to do. Take back my ring."

"What?"

"Take back my ring, return our lives to how they were, before my mistake, marry me by the end of the week and we, can raise our child together. As husband and wife,"

"We cannot-"

"Why not?"

"I already told my father of our cancelled engagement"

"Then tell him it was nothing but a lovers tiff. and that all is as it was." He said "I still love you, I still want us to be together, I still want to marry you. and I want us to raise our child together. Please. You cannot expect me to let you go again, I made that mistake once letting you walk away from me, I am not foolish enough to allow it again, especially not while my child grows in your womb"

"You can not simply expect me to trust you again Jack."

"I'm not. I'm asking you to let me earn it back." He said, "Please Y/n."

"Yes" I gasped

"You-"

"Yes Jack."

"Y/n... my darling" He cooed pulling me back to his lips.

#thomas sangster #tbs smut #thomas brodie sangster #tbs imagines #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #tbs imagine #tbs #thomasbrodiesangster #jackdawkins #jack dawkins #jack #dr dawkins #thearttfuldodger #theartfuldogger #the artful dodger

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nicoline1998enilocin · 9 months ago

Text

His innocent assistant | Part 2

PAIRING | Tony Stark x Lab Assistent!Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT | 4.8K

SUMMARY | Tony enjoys taking you to his parties as his date since he loves to show off his sweet, innocent assistant to everyone willing to hear about you. This time, however, the party doesn't go entirely to plan as he finds you flirting with none other than the God of Mischief himself, and jealousy takes over his entire being.

RATING | Explicit (E)

WARNINGS/TAGS | Innocent Reader, use of nickname (Princess, Gorgeous), jealous Tony

SMUT | Daddy kink, breeding kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, backscratching, lots of praise, lots of hickies, nipple play, oral (F&M receiving) 69, facesitting, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), rough sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare.

A/N | This one-shot is written based on this request by @ccbsrmsf1. From the moment you thought of this idea, I couldn't let it go, and I'm very happy with how it turned out! This GIF you provided is also heaven, and it took me way longer than necessary to finish this because I kept going back to stare at it! The story can be read as a follow-up to part 1 or a standalone one-shot. I'm forever thankful for the sweet, wonderful, and amazing @ccbsrmsf1 who has proofread this story. 🩷

EVENTS Masterlist | @fandombingo | Loki Laufeyson Masterlist | @fandom-free-bingo | "I'm going to kill you."

Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: @ccbsrmsf1

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Part 1

Everyone knows Tony's parties are exceptional - each more than the last - and it is always one of your favorite evenings when you get to accompany him as his date. There is never money saved on the lavish evenings, which also goes for your outfit. Tony has picked the perfect dress this time, and you're excited to wear it.

The dark green fabric drapes around your body beautifully, highlighting your curves just the way you like, and it makes you feel like the most beautiful Princess ever to walk the face of the earth. You're still determining how he does it, but Tony gets you a gown that fits you like a glove each time, and you enjoy being spoiled by him.

When your hair and make-up are done, you look in the mirror. Your nails match your dress, and the make-up is light to give your dress all the attention it deserves. The color compliments your skin, and when Tony arrives to pick you up for the party, he has to pick his jaw from the floor first.

"Look at you, Princess, you look amazing tonight," he purrs in your ear, his hands on your waist and squeezing very gently. The compliment lights a fire inside you, and you smile even wider as your eyes meet his in the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

"Thank you, Daddy, you picked a perfect dress for me!" you tell him excitedly before turning around and pulling him into a tight hug. He can feel his cock twitch as you call him 'Daddy,' which has become more natural to you now. He has to try not to rip the fabric off you to have his fill of you right here and now, so he is genuinely testing his patience.

Only one more night until he tells you how he truly feels about you. There is only one more night to get through before he can finally tell you what has been on his mind for a while now. With one last deep breath, he shows you his biggest smile as well before leading you away from the mirror and into the car waiting outside for the two of you.

After Tony has helped you into the car, you take your place, sighing when you're finally comfortable and ready to go. After a long week of work, you're looking forward to the party, just letting go for a few hours and crashing at Tony's apartment like you've done countless times before.

''When we get there, we have to walk the red carpet first, Princess," Tony tells you, and you nod happily.

Usually, taking photos isn't your favorite activity, but you will enjoy it with your appearance tonight. The outfit is stunning, and you can't wait to show everyone how much of a princess you are tonight.

As soon as you arrive, Tony speeds out of the car to help you out of the car as well, and you can see almost everyone is already at the party. As the host, he always likes to be 'fashionably late' as he calls it.

"Let's go, Princess, it's your time to shine on the carpet," Tony whispers before leading you to the long, bright red fabric on the floor, constantly stopping to take photos, always with Tony close by. Taking pictures is alright tonight, especially with how Tony has dressed you.

When the photos are finally over, you head inside, walking over to the bar to get a drink when you get stopped by Natasha and Wanda - dressed in black and red, respectively - their signature colors complimenting their hair and make-up perfectly.

"Girl, you look like the belle of the ball tonight!" Natasha says as she pulls you in for a hug. Out of all the Avengers, you have liked her most, as she is the girlfriend you have always wished to have. She doesn't treat you like you're 'dumb' or less than her; she accepts your innocence without looking down on you.

"Thank you so much! Tony got this beautiful dress for me, and I feel like a princess tonight," you tell her, and you feel his fingers digging slightly into your side. After a few more compliments and pleasantries, Tony takes you to the bar for a much-needed drink.

When you're there, he is suddenly pulled away for some business with Bruce, and you look around the party, spotting some of the other Avengers, too. Steve and Bucky are in a darker corner of the bar, and you wave at them. They politely give you a wave and a large smile in return.

When you decide to walk around and see if there's anyone else you could talk to for a little while, you're suddenly stopped by a dark-haired, slender man with a dark green suit that looks perfect against his pale skin.

"Hi, Loki! It's been a long time since I've seen you. How are you?" you ask as he pulls you in for a hug, which you happily reciprocate.

"I'm even better now that I've run into you! Your body is beautiful now that it's adorned with my signature color, Gorgeous," Loki says in a smooth tone, making you preen a little at his words. He's always been a charmer toward you; it makes you feel good when he tells you these things.

"You look good too, Loki," you tell him as you sip your drink, letting the liquid warm you from the inside out. He keeps the conversation going for a while, asking about your work as he talks about life on Asgard, too, as it has always fascinated you.

"Do you want to visit our palace sometime, Gorgeous? You'll fit right in there between all the royalty that lives there," Loki tells you, and you let out an excited squeal. When he hears this, Tony turns his head towards you, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he sees the two of you.

You don't notice it as you look his way and smile at him, and he smiles back at you before sending a death stare toward Loki. He gives him a mischievous look in return before turning back to you.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to visit there? I mean, I don't want to overstep or anything!" you ask, and when he confirms it's okay, you smile broadly at the thought of being able to visit Asgard with Loki. The entire time, Tony keeps an eye on you and is close enough to hear every word you two exchange.

It doesn't take long before Tony excuses himself to come and see what you are up to, and that's when Loki decides to lay it on even thicker with the flirting.

"Have I told you that there is not a single star in the universe that shines as bright as you? With your beautiful smile, and-" is all he can say before Tony makes his way over, having enough of Loki flirting with his girl.

"Can I talk to you for a moment, Princess? Something important came up in the lab, and I need your help," Tony says sweetly before sending you on your way, even though nothing is happening there. If there were, you would have gotten a notification on your phone, and you look at it to be sure, but there's nothing.

The second you're out of earshot, Tony turns back to Loki, who's just giving him an amused smile.

"The next time you even think about pulling a stunt like this again, I'm going to kill you, Laufeyson," Tony growls, his dark brown eyes looking angry at the God in front of him.

"I'm looking forward to it, Stark. Now go get your girl; she must be waiting for you in the lab," Loki says, and Tony quickly turns around before maneuvering his way through the crowd to get to you. Seeing you with Loki has uprooted some feelings he has tried to push away for a long time, but he can't deny them any longer.

"Princess, wait!" he says as you step into the elevator, ready to take the ride down to Tony's lab - and your working area. As you stand in the opening of the elevator, you turn around to see Tony running towards you.

"Can we talk? I need to tell you something, and I really can't wait any longer to tell you this," he says between pants, catching his breath as you step into the elevator together, but he doesn't push any buttons, instead letting the doors close behind you so it's just you and him.

"What's wrong, Daddy? Did something bad happen in the lab?" you ask with furrowed brows, worry starting to settle in your stomach as he looks at you with the most beautiful, deep brown eyes you've ever seen. Now that he's this close to you, you can't help but take a good look at him.

"Nothing happened in the lab, Princess; it was just something I said to get you out of there without raising any suspicion," he tells you, and even though you feel a little hurt at his words, you quickly forgive him. If there's one person you can never be mad at, it's Tony.

"I- I don't know where to start..." Tony starts as he rubs his neck with his hand, looking at the floor as he gathers his thoughts. Now that he will confess his feelings, he's unsure how to say the words. They're getting caught in his throat and won't come out.

"It's okay, Daddy; you know you can tell me everything, right?" you say as you step to him, taking his face in your hands and lifting it to your soothing eyes. You give him a small smile, which he returns before taking a deep breath, gathering every last bit of courage he can muster.

"I- I have feelings for you, Princess. At first, the feelings were only physical, but they have grown to be more. I can't stop thinking about you. I even dream about you, and it's taking over every second of every day," he tells you, but you're not entirely sure what he's talking about. You think about him often, and sometimes you also dream about Tony.

"I do that too, Tony; it's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of! I even dreamt about you last night!" you tell him excitedly, and Tony chuckles at your innocence. You're not dumb, far from it even, but you're just very innocent when it comes to these things, and it warms his heart each time.

"No, Princess, I think you're not getting what I'm telling you. What I mean is that- well- I'm in love with you more than I've ever been with anyone. I get butterflies in my stomach each time you say good morning or when our fingers brush when you hand me my coffee," he tells you, a deep blush on his cheeks as he tells you these things.

"I love you, Princess, and I want you to be mine. I want to call you my girlfriend, fall asleep with you in my arms each night, and make breakfast for you in the mornings. I want to go on dates and take long vacations to the other side of the world. I want to kiss you whenever, and I want you, Princess. Above all else, I want you more than I can ever explain," Tony finishes his confessions. That's when he notices the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes.

This is the first time someone has ever told you this instead of hanging out with you for sex, and it is warming your heart. Finally, someone sees you for the woman who you are inside, and it's all you ever wanted and more.

"I love you too, Tony," is all that leaves your mouth in a whisper before you lean in to kiss his lips, sealing in the love confession you have just exchanged. Your lips move together in a sweet, soft pace that has both your hearts beating faster, your bodies slowly inching towards one another until your chests are touching.

The moment you move away to get some air, you already miss the feeling of his lips on yours, wishing the moment lasted forever. Instead of physically pushing the elevator button, Tony orders JARVIS to lead the elevator to his penthouse, as he doesn't want to let you go anymore. Now that you're his, he's not letting you out of his grasp again.

As soon as you and Tony are in his beautiful penthouse overlooking the Manhattan skyline, one of your favorite sights to see. You're often in front of your bedroom window as you admire the view, but that's nothing compared to the sight up here.

"Do you like what you see, Princess?" Tony asks as he comes to stand behind you. You're standing in front of his huge floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, marveling at the sight. As you keep looking outside, Tony lets his hands glide over your bare arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"Yeah, it's beautiful at night," you whisper as Tony lets the fabric of your dress glide off your shoulders, baring your entire top half to him. As soon as the cool air of the room hits your exposed flesh, your nipples pebble instantly, and your eyes shut as a shudder runs down your spine.

"Look at you, already so responsive for me," Tony says as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. It doesn't take long before the rest of your dress is also on the floor, and you're standing in front of him in nothing but a pair of lacy panties and your heels.

An appreciative sound leaves his lips as he takes in your figure in the window, the reflection giving him the perfect sight. His hands roam a little more over your body before finding your hard nipples, letting his fingers ghost over them before softly rolling and tugging to get the small moans out of you he loves so much.

"That's it, Princess, let Daddy make you feel good," he whispers as you give yourself to him and his touches. Your hands are clenched in fists by your side, and your thighs are rubbing together to give yourself some relief as your panties are dampening more and more each second.

"D-Daddy," you whimper, and Tony feels his hard cock twitch against the fabric of his jeans, the zipper digging into his flesh. He keeps stimulating your nipples for a little longer before carefully pulling his hands away, making you whine softly at the loss of his touch.

"Don't worry, Princess, if you come with me to the bedroom, I will make you feel so good you'll forget just about anything but my name," Tony says, which excites you a lot. You practically run to his bedroom, and Tony can't help but chuckle, his gaze locked on the way your butt jiggles as you take each step.

It doesn't take long for Tony to appear in the bedroom, his jacket, tie, and shirt long gone, and his pants already open as he walks over to you on the bed. The brown in his eyes is almost completely gone as the lust has taken over, a smirk on his lips as he looks at you. This look has you feeling warm all over and your panties dampening even more until they're practically soaked through.

"Spread your beautiful thighs for me, Princess, so Daddy can see how wet your princess parts are for him," he says, and you do as he asks. A groan escapes his chest as he sees you're dripping for him, and he can't wait any longer as he sits on the bed, leaning down until his face is at eye level with your soaked pussy.

"Look at that, such a good girl for Daddy," he praises you as his hands guide your thighs even further apart to make room for him and his broad shoulders. He places a few soft, small kisses on the crease where your thighs meet your hips before moving to the wet fabric of your panties.

"So wet for me already, hm? I can't wait to have a taste of your sweet juices, Princess," he says, and without any further warning, he sucks the fabric of your panties into his mouth, letting the taste of you flood his tastebuds with a deep groan. He licks your clit through the fabric, which only adds to your pleasure, your back arching as you grind your hips against his face.

"D-Daddy! 'M close," you tell him as your hands grab his hair, but he doesn't give up, no matter how hard you pull on it. Instead, he only works harder to get you to your first orgasm of the night, as he's planning on giving you many, many more. He just groans in response as he keeps working your clit, and before you know it, your first orgasm washes over you, soaking the fabric in Tony's mouth even more.

He keeps working you through your orgasm until you push his head away, finally letting go of the fabric, which he quickly pulls off before throwing it on the floor. You're panting as you let your head fall back onto his pillows, a thin layer of sweat already adorning your skin. And this was only the first of the evening.

"Taste so sweet, Princess. Your juices always make me go crazy; I can never get enough of them, he tells you as, between the hickies, he sucks into the plush flesh of your soft thighs. He takes his sweet time decorating both with a litter of purple bruises before he gets up to take off his pants, finally freeing himself from the confinements.

He looks at you straight-faced, and what came out of his mouth next surprised you.

"I want you to sit on my face, Princess; I want to work you open nice and slow before I sink my thick, delicious monster of a cock into that tight, warm pussy of yours," Tony says to you, and you feel a gush of arousal between your thighs as you lift your head in astonishment.

"A-Are you sure?" you ask him, and he nods before kneeling in front of you on the bed.

"I've never been more sure about anything, Princess. There's nothing more than for you to sit on my face - sit, not hover - as I open you up for me," he tells you before capturing your lips with his, the feeling of his tongue in your mouth intoxicating you. Far too soon for your liking, he pulls away, giving you a questioning look.

"Okay," you tell him, and you let him get into position before you straddle his face in reverse cowgirl style and sink until your pussy is fully settled on his mouth and tongue. A groan leaves Tony's chest as he starts to eat you out, his warm tongue feeling a bit odd yet very pleasant inside your pussy.

As time goes on and the pleasure builds, you lay yourself down on his chest, his cock lying hard on his abdomen as pre-cum leaks from the tip. You give it an experimental lick, which makes him groan again, and it only adds to your pleasure. His tongue keeps going inside you as well as stimulating your clit as you take him into your hand, jerking him up and down slowly.

It's most definitely not the first time you will suck him off, but it has never been this intimate before. The times before this have always been in his lab, and after, you have always returned to your work as if it was part of your job, but this time is different in the best way possible.

When Tony carefully introduces two fingers into the mix as well, you let out a loud moan before grinding against them, fucking them in and out of yourself at a leisurely pace. As you do this, you wrap your lips around the tip of Tony's cock, your hand still pumping up and down over the velvety shaft.

"Hmmm, that's it," Tony moans as you take more and more of him into your mouth while he patiently keeps stretching you open. It doesn't take long for him to fit three fingers inside you comfortably, and he praises you for taking him so well. When you're about halfway down his shaft, you can't take any more of him, so you let your hand take care of the rest.

"One more finger, Princess, one more finger, and then I can finally make love to you the way I've been dreaming of for so long," he tells you, and you moan around his cock at the thought. As he stretches you with his fourth finger, he keeps sucking on your clit, and before you can even comprehend what's happening, you cum, squeezing his fingers like a vice.

The moans you let escape are almost enough to send Tony over the edge too, but he manages to hold out long enough not to cum, as he wants to fuck it deep into your pussy, and not your mouth. When you're finally adequately stretched, he lets you climb off before manhandling you in the position he wants you in, a squeal escaping when he does.

"There you go, Princess, that's just perfect," Tony says as he takes his place between your thighs, his cock still hard as a rock between his own, his balls heavy and full of cum.

"Ready?" he asks, and as soon as you nod, he lines up with your entrance, slowly pushing in. The tip easily glides in as you're dripping at this point, your arousal being all the lubricant you need to make this comfortable.

"God, this fucking pussy feels so good! And you know what's the best of it all?" Tony asks you as he sinks in further, and you shake your head. He grabs your thighs as he bends them back, giving him even more room to work with as he practically folds you in half.

"It's all mine. You're mine, and I'm never letting you go. Do you understand that? You're my girl, and no one else can have you," Tony says as he bottoms out, a long, deep moan following from both of you as he does. After you've adjusted to him, he repositions himself so he can fuck you the best way he knows how.

As he practically lays himself over your body, his biceps keeping your legs folded back, he sets a brutal pace that has you crying out his name. He knows you can handle more than you think, and if you ever need it, you can safeword at any moment in time, no questions asked. But you don't because you enjoyed being pounded like this - like he's using you like his human fleshlight.

Long, broken moans escape your lips as your eyes roll into the back of your head. The sound of balls slapping against your wet skin and Tony's groans all mix to make the most delicious yet dirty harmony, which neither of you can get enough of.

"Feels so good, Princess, squeezing Daddy's cock with this tight pussy of yours," he says, and the closer you're getting to his orgasm, the more you're looking for something to ground yourself. Eventually, you find his back, leaving many deep, dark red scratches.

The burning sensations on the scratches on his back only turn Tony on even more, his balls drawing closer to his body as he can't hold out much longer, his orgasm quickly approaching.

"God, 'm gonna cum, Princess! Gonna fuck every drop of my cum into your pussy until you're fucking pregnant with my baby! That's what you want, huh? Daddy's cum? I thought so," he says with a smirk, and it doesn't take long for both of you to cum at the same time, Tony shooting every last drop of his cum deep into you.

"Jesus, fuck! 'S so much cum for you, Princess, all for you," he says as he pants on top of you, the burning sensation of the scratches on his back making him chuckle.

"I love you, Princess; I love you so much," he whispers against your hair before he pulls out, making you whine at the loss of his cock inside your pussy. As he rolls onto his side, you carefully stretch your legs after the position he's had you in for a while, a groan leaving your lips at the feeling of your sore muscles.

"Daddy?" you ask in a small, slightly slurred voice.

"Yes, Princess?" he says as he looks at you and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Love you too," you tell him with a small smile, and with that, he pulls you against his chest, getting some much-needed post-sex cuddles. This type of intimacy is something you enjoy, and finally, exploring it with Tony fills your heart with nothing but love.

Tony pulled the covers over both of you after you fell asleep, the exertion from earlier lulling you into a slumber immediately. After about an hour and a half, you wake up again with a rumbling belly.

"I can hear someone's a little hungry! How about this: I will run us a nice, hot bath, and while you get the first soak in the hot water, I'll prepare some of your favorite fruits. After that, I'll join you, and we can enjoy it together," he offers, and you nod.

The loss of Tony in the bed has you crawling deeper under the covers, rolling yourself up like a burrito as you wait for the bath to be filled and Tony to get you. Luckily, you don't have to wait long, and he's soon back in the bedroom to pick you up and let you sink into the bath.

The hot water is soothing for your sore muscles, specifically your hips and thighs, and with a sigh, you let yourself settle in the water while Tony goes to get the promised fruit. You close your eyes for just a few minutes, and once Tony's back with a bowl of different fruits, you make some room for him to join you.

"Hmm, the water feels perfect," he sighs as you get comfortable on his lap, and you nod in agreement. The two of you feed each other the different pieces of fruit, from strawberries and raspberries to some mango and pineapple, making it a delicious mix.

A comfortable silence has fallen over you as you finish the bowl of fruits before washing each other carefully. Taking a bath is something you very much enjoy, and to do it together with Tony only makes it about ten times better, and you already can't wait for the next one you get to take together.

Once you're both done and Tony has dried you off, he hands you one of his t-shirts to sleep in before he pulls on a pair of sweatpants, not bothering to put on a pair of boxers this time. As soon as you're back in Tony's arms, nestled deep under the covers, you fall into a deep sleep, which you need.

The following day, Tony woke up before you, but he left a note to let you know he was in the gym. So, as soon as you put on a pair of Tony's boxershorts, you quickly go to your bedroom to get dressed in sweatpants and an old t-shirt before breakfast, hoping it isn't too obvious you slept with Tony last night.

When you are in the kitchen, you quickly make yourself a smoothie bowl before heading to the gym and sitting on the pile of mats as you watch Tony work out. When your gaze meets his in the mirror he's standing in front of, he stops for a moment to wink at you and take his shirt off, only to be met with lots of gasps from everyone in the room.

While Tony assumes it's about his physique, you can see what's happening. You have scratched Tony so hard and deep that most of the lines have turned into bruises, making his back look like a cat's claw mauled it.

"Wow, Stark! Looks like you got lucky last night!" Natasha says as she looks at you, and the feeling of embarrassment runs through you.

"What are you-" is all he can say before someone shows him a picture of his back, and he gasps loudly. Not because he's horrified, but because he's proud that he made you feel so good last night, it's still visible today.

"I sure did, man! And this won't be the last time either," he says with a wink to you, and a broad smile appears on your face. He wears every single one of your marks with pride, and even though most people don't know they're from you, you still take pride in the fact you're the one who gave them to him.

532 notes · View notes

gureumz · 2 years ago

Text

turn two years into forever.

rating: explicit

member: jay

notes: fem!reader, marriage of convenience/arranged marriage, acquaintances to lovers, slight hurt/comfort, cunnilingus, praise, slight breeding, unprotected sex, jay is very sweet in this

a/n: i'm finally back! this is perfect timing with jay's recent birthday. jay deserves all the love so please enjoy <3

"smile, sweetheart. it's your wedding day."

you lift your eyes towards the mirror, meeting your mother's intense gaze. you take a deep breath, lips spreading in a brief smile. or something as close to a smile as you can muster.

"there are worse situations to find yourself in," your mom continues gently, dusting off invisible particles from your shoulders. your eyes scan over your reflection in the mirror.

you've never looked, never felt more beautiful. you're shining in a white dress that hugs your body in all the right places. your skin is the best it's ever been, and your hair makes you look absolutely magical.

you should be elated, excited. but an uneasiness settles in you.

"i guess," you reluctantly agree, standing up. your veil billows around you and a weird flutter goes through your chest.

"i really couldn't do any better than jay even if i tried."

your mom smiles, holding you in place as she takes one last look at you in the mirror.

"exactly," your mom says. "all the others would consider themselves lucky if he even looked their way."

"and you...," your mom continues, turning you towards her. she pats your cheek affectionately.

"you get to marry him."

---

your heart is pounding and there's a ringing in your ears that doesn't seem to go away. you try to concentrate on what the officiant is saying, but you feel as if you might throw up any time soon.

your perfectly manicured fingernails rake over the material of your skirt, an action you repeat over and over. this is the worst time for you to fidget, but you can't help it. sitting in front of the altar, next to a man you barely know, in your mind, this is the perfect time.

you flinch when you feel a warmth press over your hand, stopping it in its motions. fingers curl around your own, a thumb running over your skin soothingly.

jay manages a small smile as you look at him curiously. his hand slips under your trembling one, threading his fingers through the spaces in between yours.

he nods, as if to say, 'it's okay'. you don't know why but you feel like bursting into tears then and there. it wouldn't be too weird. you could say you were overcome with emotion. it is your wedding, after all. but you ultimately take a deep breath, squeezing jay's hand, as if to anchor you back to reality.

---

it's nice. the kiss is nice. jay seems to be a romantic because a hand on the cheek while the other is on your hip is such a classic romantic move.

he pulls away, beaming at the crowd that applauds your union. jay briefly turns back to you, nodding again. he seems to be encouraging you to do something. it takes a second for you to realize that you're supposed to look happy. or, at least, pleased.

you smile at your wedding guests, catching the eyes of a few of your family members and friends. your eyes drift over to the other side and you see jay's parents looking at you intently. your hands feel clammy all of a sudden.

"we should bow," you whisper, grabbing jay's hand in a panic.

"yeah, of course—," jay begins. but before he can even finish his sentence, you've angled your upper body in a ninety-degree bow in the direction of his parents.

you don't see it but jay is startled and awkwardly shuffles before doing a full bow toward your own mother and father.

the two of you straighten up and jay looks at you, expression unreadable.

"are you okay?" jay asks, laying a hand on the small of your back.

you swallow thickly. "yes. i'm feeling great."

jay stares at you for a few more seconds but doesn't say anything else.

---

the reception is even more of a blur than the vows. heck, you don't even remember your vows. you remember reading off the paper and having an out-of-body experience. it just didn't seem real.

the music is loud, maybe a little too loud for your liking. but it seems to distract everyone because no one's noticed (or so you hope) that you've slipped out of the banquet hall, skirt dragging against the trimmed grass as you take a stroll outside.

you stand beneath the moonlight, eyeing the water beneath you. the reception venue is nestled on a hill next to a vast lake, and standing here on the adjacent balcony, you take the time to appreciate just how scenic everything is.

to be honest, you haven't had much time to appreciate anything today.

"hey," comes a voice.

you turn and there stands your groom, your husband, jay.

maybe you'll take this time to appreciate him, too.

"mind if i join you?" jay asks, motioning to the space next to you. you shake your head, watching as he slowly approaches you.

"they probably think we're...," you trail off, realizing before you've even finished your sentence that whatever comes out of your mouth will be incredibly awkward for both of you.

jay chuckles.

"couples planning a wedding are often advised to sneak in a little time for just the two of them," jay points out. you notice he's holding a glass of champagne.

"would've been us," you agree, gently taking the glass from jay.

"but we didn't plan this wedding," you say.

"well," you quickly add. "not most of it, anyway."

jay nods in agreement, watching you sip on the champagne. you hand the glass back to jay after.

"right," jay says, downing the rest of the liquor. you feel a small pinch in your heart as jay gets a faraway look in his eyes.

you never stopped to consider how this might be affecting him.

"we'll get divorced soon enough," you try nonchalantly, leaning over the balcony railing. "just need to close that deal with those investors, then we'll be on our merry, single ways."

jay doesn't say anything. you turn to him, waiting for him to respond. he looks deep in thought, his eyebrows pinched together.

"we just got married and you're already thinking of divorce?" jay asks in a quiet voice, finally meeting your eyes.

you're taken slightly aback.

"i mean, isn't that what all this is for?" you point out, looking at jay expectantly. "our parents wanted this."

"so, you didn't want this?" jay interrogates.

"well—that's not—," you start. "did you want this?"

"of course, marriage has always been in the books for me," jay replies, looking at you incredulously.

"but surely not with me?" you protest.

"i didn't have you in mind if that's what you're asking," jay informs with a shake of his head. "not until our parents brought this whole thing up."

"when i agreed to this, i was made to assume that you did, too," jay adds.

"i did, but we can't stay in a marriage that wasn't ours to decide," you continue to argue. your voice has grown in volume, whiny and petulant.

jay breathes in deeply.

"you make it sound as if we were forced."

you pause, silent, with no argument coming to mind.

"i really thought we could have at least made this work, ______," jay says, a hint of sadness in his voice.

jay gives a final sigh before turning to leave.

---

the reception does little to alleviate the tension between you and jay. you force a smile as everyone enjoys the party, both sets of parents looking content as they sipped on their champagne.

the gap between where you and jay sat, if noticeable, raised no questions. some of your friends approached to offer their congratulations and ushered you onto the dance floor. you figured you might as well have a little fun at your wedding party.

"you'll be fine, right?" your best friend asks as she sways with you to the music.

"what do you mean?" you ask, perplexed. she smiles at you sympathetically.

"i don't need to call the cops for any marital disputes, i hope?"

you're speechless for a moment, realizing what your best friend is implying.

"no," you immediately answer, shaking your head. "jay and i don't see eye to eye yet, but he would never."

you glance back at your husband, wine glass in hand as he watches you dance. you quickly turn away.

"jay is many things, but he's not a violent man."

"he's rather...sweet," you add.

---

the walk to your hotel room later that night was even more unbearable.

jay walks alongside you, hands shoved into his pockets and eyes cast forward. his expression is stony and his lips are pressed into a thin line. you can't help but feel a little bad for what you said about getting a divorce.

"are all your things in the room?" you ask quietly, holding your purse tightly against your body as if to shield yourself from jay's icy stare.

you've changed out of your wedding dress, exchanging it for a simple white sundress just as the reception was ending. your friends graciously volunteered to take the original garment, five layers of petticoat and all, to your room to save you the trouble.

"yeah," jay answers, still refusing to make eye contact. "i brought them in before i got ready earlier."

you nod, head hanging low. so much for small talk.

the hotel lobby is quiet at this hour, with most of your guests having already retreated to their own rooms. you and jay enter the elevator, and it suddenly feels a little too stuffy.

"shit," you mutter, suddenly remembering. "my keycard's with my friend. i gave it to her when they brought my dress up."

"i have mine," jay replies curtly. "although..."

you turn to jay, a questioning look on your face. "what?"

jay takes a deep breath, finally meeting your eyes.

"are you sure you wanna sleep in the same room tonight?"

you pause, realizing that you're meant to sleep in one room, in one bed with jay.

you clear your throat, nodding hurriedly.

"yeah, it's fine. i hope it's okay with you?" you ask, voice meek as you toy with the strap of your purse.

"i can take the couch," jay concludes just as the elevator doors open. you start to protest but jay strides out through the doors, leaving you behind.

guilt tugs at your heart. hard.

you follow jay silently through the hallway, stopping right behind him as he unlocks the door to your room. it swings open and jay steps to the side to let you in first.

'ever the gentleman, even when he's upset,' you think to yourself as you step inside.

true enough, your wedding dress hangs by the large closet at the corner of the room, your bags stacked neatly nearby. another set of luggage lays beside yours and you're quick to assume that those are jay's.

"you can use the bathroom first," jay says flatly, shrugging off his suit jacket and hanging it on the back of an armchair by the dresser.

"jay," you begin, taking cautious steps towards him. "can we talk?"

jay turns to you, expression unreadable. he sees the slight frown that settles on your face and his eyes soften a little.

"okay. what's up?," jay asks, cocking his head to the side curiously.

"i'm...i'm really sorry for what i said earlier," you say as your fingers curl and uncurl into themselves, another nervous habit of yours.

"it's just, all of this was brought down on me so quickly and i didn't feel like i could refuse because, you know...," you cut yourself off, meeting jay's eyes. he has the smallest of smiles on his face and the tension eases up in your shoulders.

"...parents," you finish off, shrugging, as if to imply that jay should understand what you're saying.

thankfully, jay nods. "i get it. i had hoped to have a little more freedom until, say, my early thirties but here we are."

you sigh with relief, glad to know that jay isn't still mad at you, if he had been at all.

"i'm sorry if i upset you," you add, reaching over to clutch at his hand apologetically. he shakes his head, threading your fingers together.

"i wasn't upset. just...a little confused," jay replies.

"i thought the point of arranging this marriage was to, you know, make sure we're on the same page?" jay continues, leaning down slightly so he's eye level with you.

you feel your stomach twist as you take in jay's scent.

fresh. clean. expensive.

"we were, we are," you explain, taking jay's other hand. "it's just, marriage is such a long-term thing and i have a hard time looking past what i want to eat for my next meal."

jay chuckles, reaching up to tuck your hair behind one of your ears.

"then let's not look past what you want to eat for your next meal," jay suggests, looking at you expectantly.

"it's like those choose your own adventure books, right? it's exciting," jay offers, and you can't help but smile at his nostalgic reference.

"what kind of long-term plans are you worried about anyway?" jay questions, reaching behind your head.

"may i?" jay pauses briefly to ask, lightly taking ahold of a pin sticking out of your hair. you nod.

jay begins to undo your hair, letting the strands fall gradually. your scalp and the rest of your body tingle as you feel the warmth of jay's fingertips.

"i don't know...whatever we need to be planning for our future or whatever," you finally answer, inhaling more of jay's (concerningly) addicting perfume.

"there really isn't anything to plan," jay points out, letting the last of your hair fall. he runs his fingers through the tangles, smoothing out the curls at the end.

"look," jay says, eyeing you almost admonishingly. you pout like a child and jay can't help but grin.

"you know money isn't a problem with both of us, right? i'm sure you're well aware of the privilege you were born into," jay continues, setting the pins down on the dresser.

"of course," you say a little too defensively. "where is this going?"

"i'm just saying, we don't have to 'build a life' or whatever, just because we're married," jay says with a slight roll of his eye. "we can just continue being who we are. continue our hobbies, go do whatever it is we do with friends. the only difference is we're married."

"oh, yes, what a small thing to overlook," you respond sarcastically.

jay just smiles at you as if the whole thing is oh-so-amusing. you won't lie and say that it isn't.

"yeah, okay, maybe i am a little too over in my head about this," you finally agree, walking over to the bed and plopping down.

"so, what does my wife want for her next meal?" jay asks with a quirk of his brow as he watches you through the dresser mirror. he undoes the first three buttons of his shirt.

you give him a look, and jay laughs, turning back to you.

"what do you wanna do next?" jay asks simply, eyeing you from across the room. your eyes trail down from his face, to his neck, and down to the exposed skin of his chest. jay's shirt is now wrinkled from a whole day's worth of affairs.

"sleep," you reply, and as if on cue, you feel a yawn creep out of you. you blink away the bleariness in your eyes, laughing as jay looks at you amusedly.

"shower first, but sleep next, definitely," you add.

"that, we can agree on," jay says, watching you as you make your way to the bathroom.

you stop at the door, looking back at jay for a moment. a long stretch of silence follows, both of you just staring at each other. your heart thumps in your chest as an idea pops into your head.

"do you want to join me?" you ask, voice quiet. jay's eyebrows nearly shoot clean off his forehead. the image makes you giggle.

"only if you want to, of course."

jay contemplates for a moment before nodding. "i'll turn away, just to be safe."

you frown a little at this. "what if i don't want you to turn away?"

jay only smiles.

---

the water is warm, soothing your sore limbs as it cascades down your body.

jay is standing right in front of you, both of you stripped bare, his hands resting on the curve of your waist leading to your hips.

for some reason, both of you silently agreed that this was the appropriate first step in building intimacy together as husband and wife. you barely spoke two words to each other as both of you undressed, with jay guiding you into the shower stall, warmth radiating from all over his body.

jay fully wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you close. you let out a breath as you settle against his larger frame, feeling comforted by just how much of you he can engulf in his embrace.

the nakedness is just mere happenstance at this point. it's not what you and jay are focused on. you're naked only because you're in the shower and it would be a pain to have soaking wet clothes strewn about if you entered fully clothed. it's the practical choice in this situation. you and jay being naked is not the point here.

perhaps, the real point of it all is that this is the first time the two of you are truly alone together. vulnerable, exposed, devoid of whatever walls you put up during the day. for some reason, this makes you emotional.

"are you crying?" jay mumbles against your temple, planting a soft kiss to your wet skin. the question causes your lip to tremble, your nose congested as you let the tears fall amongst the water raining down on you.

"yes. but i'm okay," you assure jay, burying yourself further into his chest. "just feeling a little weird."

jay lets you cry for a bit more, reaching over to turn the water off after a few minutes. you pull away, smiling tiredly up at jay.

"let's get you to bed," jay concludes, kissing you once more on the forehead.

---

the two of you lay bundled under the covers, the lights dimmed, and a sizeable amount of space between you and jay.

you felt the embarrassment creep up inside you as you stepped out of the shower, wanting nothing more than to bury yourself underground for showing yourself in such a fragile state to someone who you barely knew. yeah, you were married now, but still. not the point.

jay had been gracious at least to not have said anything as you rushed around the room, dressing yourself and busying yourself with skincare. jay had barely pulled his shirt on when you dove right under the covers, wrapping it tightly around you, as if to hide from him.

jay had slipped into bed beside you quietly, laying there for a few seconds before pulling his phone out to tinker with it.

you watch jay as he scrolls through his instagram, a plethora of congratulatory messages and photos from the wedding in his inbox. you don't mean to read any of it, but it's at this moment that the reality of the marriage sinks in even deeper.

jay abruptly turns to you and you give a start, quickly looking away. jay laughs, putting his phone down and scooting impossibly close to you.

"hey," you say in mock annoyance. "boundaries, hello?"

"we're married," jay reasons playfully, laying his head on your chest. his damp hair feels cool through your pajama top. you smile down at him, fingers carding through his strands.

"yeah," you say to no one in particular, eyes moving out of focus as you turn the sentence in your head over and over.

"we're married."

"stop," jay says sternly, propping himself up so he can look you in the eye.

"you're thinking about it too much again," jay observes, giving you a pointed look. you feel your eyes prickle with tears.

"oh, my wife's a crybaby," jay coos, sprawling himself over you, nuzzling his face in your stomach as his hair tickles your neck and chin. you can't stop the laugh that escapes you.

"seriously though," jay begins, looking at you once more. "the only thing i want to sign myself to in this marriage is your happiness. whatever you want, whatever you need, you tell me. and i will make it happen."

you nod, a little taken aback by the sincerity in jay's voice.

"okay?" jay asks, an eyebrow raised.

"okay," you answer back.

jay stays there, staring at you, and you're quite unsure what exactly is supposed to happen.

"i'm going to kiss you now because it's honestly anticlimactic if we don't," jay informs you casually as if he was merely asking permission to leave the room.

you're rendered speechless, blood rushing loudly in your ears. in the midst of your confusion and shock, you manage to nod again, eyes closing as jay presses his lips to yours.

jay pulls back after a second, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. you're dazed, but elated. if anything, the kiss was comforting, like it was meant to happen sooner or later on this very night.

a roar of desire suddenly erupts within you as you notice how jay is slotted between your legs, his strong arms bracing himself on either side of you. your pulse quickens as you fight this urge, tamping it down for fear that jay might reject you.

"what's on your mind?" jay asks, as if he can sense something bothering you.

"i—," you stutter, trying to find the right words.

"i think i want to try...you know...," you continue, trailing off. jay tilts his head to the side, eyebrows pinched together.

"try what?" jay asks, genuine concern etched on his face. it slaps you right in your own face just how lucky you are to be married to this man.

"making love with you, or having sex, at least," you stumble over your words in a hurry. "in case you're not in love with me yet."

jay bites his lip, smirking. you feel him harden against your thigh and your breath hitches when you feel him discreetly rub himself against you.

"you're adorable, did you know that?" jay asks, leaning down to kiss you again. he presses down harder on your lips and you part them almost immediately, sighing as jay licks into the heat of your mouth.

"are you sure?" jay asks pulling away. you nod vigorously, pulling him back to you.

"might be good to relieve our stress from today," you mumble playfully against jay's lips.

jay groans at this, bucking his hips up against your clothed core. "fuck, don't say things like that," jay complains. you can see his ears turn red.

jay doesn't even bother with the buttons of your pajama top. he pulls it over your head in one swift motion, tossing it to the floor. you drag your nails over his torso, silently begging for him to take his shirt off as well. jay complies, baring himself once more to you.

"i really do regret not being able to tell you enough how beautiful of a bride you are," jay says lowly before latching onto one of your nipples. you moan, arching into jay.

"please, jay," you whine, not entirely sure what it is you're asking of him.

"so beautiful," jay continues, trailing kisses down your torso. he stops just above the waistband of your pajama shorts, wasting no time in pulling them and your underwear down.

you kick them off legs, spreading them open as you watch jay level himself with your pussy.

jay pulls your lips apart, pressing his tongue flat against your hole, stiffening it as he travels up to your clit. you mewl, your hand threading through his hair. you clutch at the strands experimentally, hearing jay groan against your core as you do so. you tug harder and jay envelops your clit in his lips, sucking hard.

"fuck, jay, just like that," you moan, grinding up into jay's mouth. he switches between assaulting your sensitive nub with his tongue and harshly suckling on it.

you peer down and catch jay looking at you through his lashes, most of his face hidden as he continues to devour you. the sight has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your arousal practically pouring out of you at this point.

"keep going." your voice is breathless as you urge jay to continue. "if you keep doing that, i'm gonna cum."

jay laps at your pussy with a newfound vigor and it takes everything in you not to scream. you've never felt pleasure like this and it all but doubles when jay slips two fingers in you.

"oh god, oh god, jay!"

it's embarrassing how easily you come undone, breath catching in your throat as you finish right in jay's mouth. he doesn't let up even after your orgasm wears away, your limbs twitching at the oversensitivity.

"holy shit," you curse as jay finally crawls back over you, grinning brightly as if he didn't just suck a life-altering orgasm out of you.

"you're incredibly loud," jay notes, brushing hair out of your face.

"and you're incredibly...good," you finish plainly, pouting as jay laughs.

"my turn?" you ask, sitting up and reaching over to the tent in jay's shorts.

jay shakes his head, catching your wrist in his hand. "next time. i kinda just want to fuck you right now."

you gape at jay, his previous statement the most vulgar you've heard him talk in the mere weeks you've known him.

jay seems to backpedal at your silence. "i mean, if that's okay with you."

you chew on your lower lip as you tug at his shorts. jay silently complies, letting you pull it off him before throwing it over his shoulder unceremoniously.

you noticed back in the shower that jay was a respectable size, but fully erect, he was definitely more than average.

spitting onto your hand, you slather the wetness all over jay, relishing in the way his mouth hangs open as you pump him to full hardness.

"just so you know, i'm on the pill," you say reassuringly as you lay back down against the pillows, jay leaning over you hurriedly, beads of precum dripping down his shaft.

"kids not part of the plan?" jay questions, teasing your clit lightly with the tip of his cock. you whine, hole clenching and unclenching in anticipation.

"we'll have that conversation later," you say in a hurry. "just need you to fuck me right now."

jay complies with a curt nod, pushing his head in and slipping the rest of his dick easily inside you. you both sigh as jay bottoms out, the stretch bringing a feeling you've never felt with any man before.

"you feel so good," you gasp out as jay drags against your walls. he thrusts into you, slowly, methodically, letting both of you get accustomed to each other.

"so tight," jay says through clenched teeth, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he pries them further apart.

jay starts to pick up the pace, and the feeling quickly overwhelms you. you simultaneously feel so full yet still so needy for jay. you let him fuck you harshly, both of you seemingly too lost in pleasure to care about anything else.

(you passively remember that jay was a dancer of sorts in his earlier years and you think that might be the reason why his hips seem to have a mind of their own.)

jay's name falls from your lips as a litany mixed with praise. 'jay, you're so good', 'jay, it feels amazing', 'i love your cock, jay'.

"god, baby, i won't last long if you keep talking like that," jay confesses, forehead creased as he tries to chase his release, hips moving impossibly fast, slamming over and over again against yours.

"want you to cum in me," you practically purr. looking at you now, hair splayed out perfectly against the pillows, eyes bleary and unfocused, mouth hanging open in silent pleasure, jay swears he could cum from this alone.

"need you to fill me up. please, jay. fill your wife up with your cum."

and that is what sends jay over the edge, hips snapping up roughly once, twice, thrice, before he buries himself as deep as he can go inside you, his cum spurting out and landing deep within.

jay pulls out a moment later, watching as you clench around nothing, his pearly white seed dribbling out of your hole.

"you're amazing," jay praises, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. you giggle into the kiss, holding jay's face in place.

the two of you stay there for what feels like hours, just kissing, pressing your bodies close as exhaustion takes over your bodies.

"ah, married life," jay says when you finally pull away, plopping down next to you. he has a sleepy grin on his face and his hair is tousled.

"we can do that whenever we want to," jay adds, cracking an eye open to see your reaction.

you roll your eyes, smacking him lightly in the arm.

"within reason," you chide, pointing a finger at jay.

jay hums, pulling you closer to him.

"the reason being i want to be inside my wife as often as she'll allow me."

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #jay smut #jay scenarios #w: jay

2K notes · View notes

stevenssacrab · 10 months ago

Text

Green Is Your Color

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

Summary: Dressed in green lingerie you have one mission, make Wanda beg.

Rating: 18+ smut (minors, do not interact)

Warnings: Dry humping, swearing, nipple play, oral (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), sex toys (vibrator, dildo), orgasm denial, bratty Wanda, dom reader, squirting.

Word Count: 2.7k

a/n: 2.7k?! Sheeesh never thought I'd do it, Wanda is my weakness ladies and germs, hope y'all enjoy!

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ✧ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*

"You're total today is $60 even," spoke the cashier at Victoria's Secret; you visibly cringed; you usually wouldn't spend this much on an item, but you wanted to surprise Wanda with something a little sexy; you paid with a smile, you can't wait to see the look on her face when she sees you in it. You open your door, anxiety creeping within you. Wanda should be home in a little while, just enough time to shower and dress; the entire shower, your nerves were getting the best of you.

"What if she doesn't like it?" you questioned internally, styling your hair in voluminous, bouncy curls; you sighed anxiously, blending the eyeshadow carefully. You were aiming for sultry bedroom eyes, something that would lure Wanda and turn her into putty before your very eyes; she's always taken the more dominant role in the bedroom. Tonight, your goal was to get her to beg for it, a challenging mission, you know that, and still, you had hope; you had a couple of tricks up your sleeve to achieve your goal; slowly, you massage your vanilla-scented lotion into your skin, sighing contently, inhaling the scent, vanilla always reminded you of your first date with Wanda and how nervous you were, and the feeling of butterflies in your stomach, the way your heart skipped a beat when you saw her for the first time, you've always known that Wanda was beautiful, she handled everything with grace, a force to be reckoned with, part of you was scared that you weren't going to be enough for her, in your opinion you were nothing special just, like every other average human. Still, she never made you feel that way, not even for a second.

You slipped into a mid-thigh length dark green silk dress with high slits that stopped at your waist, no panties, of course; you slipped on stilettos, and you ran your eyes over the whole ensemble one last time; you folded over, fluff up your roots for more volume, spray yourself with your vanilla bean perfume, and run your hands over the dress, smoothing out any imperfections, jingling of keys and dull footsteps fill your ears, "she's home" you uttered to yourself.

"Baby? Are you home?" concern layered in Wanda's voice; your bedroom door creaks open, "Baby?" she asks again.

"I'm here," you call out, trusting your nerves can't be heard through your voice, "I'll be right out, almost finished," quickly trying to straighten up the bathroom. You're stalling, but you don't care.

"Don't worry, baby, take your time," she voiced; you could practically hear the smile on her face; you sighed and attempted to shake off your nerves.

"She's gonna love it, she loves you, it'll be great," you chanted to yourself like a mantra and reached for the door handle and pulled before you could second guess yourself; your eyes land on Wanda sitting on the bed, aimlessly scrolling through her phone, she hasn't noticed you yet, you step forward.

"Hey baby, did you-" Wanda speaks, flicking her head to look at you; she met your eyes first, then flicked down; she widens her eyes slightly, raking her eyes over you slowly, observing and trying to memorize every detail, from the black stilettos that you know she loves, to the sexy eye makeup that puts her in a trance, hypnotized by the way the high slits elongates your legs, watching you intently, chin low, eyes hooded. You walk closer, one foot in front of the other, hips swaying with each step; you stop directly in front of Wanda, gently placing your hands on her shoulders; you smile down at her. Wanda breathes through her mouth, tongue dancing along her bottom lip; you slowly climb into Wanda's lap and groan softly when Wanda's hands grip your waist, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss.

"Mmm, you look so good," Wanda groaned in between feverous kisses, moving her lips to your neck, sucking dark circles into your skin; you moaned softly, tilting your head back, "What's the occasion?" Wanda asked, nibbling gently at the skin; you squeak happily, caressing the back of her head.

"Nothing, I just wanted to surprise you," you spoke breathlessly, lightly grinding your bare pussy against the rough fabric of Wanda's jeans, "do you like it?" you hummed, running your hands under Wanda's jacket, sliding it off.

"You should surprise me more often," she teased, gliding her hands under the dress and squeezing your ass, helping you grind into her slowly; you grip her shoulders, shamelessly grinding into her; Wanda gently traces her fingers up your arm; stopping at the straps of the dress and pulls them down over your shoulders, exposing your tits to the cold air, Wanda doesn't miss how you shiver, she cups them massaging them roughly she brings her head down, flicking her tongue over the bud, you whimper, watching opened mouth, she grins and captures your bud, sucking gently, she looks up at you innocently, you groan, rutting against her quickly you feel your orgasm building up, Wanda moans around your nipple, rolling your free nipple between her fingers, you moan loudly, picking up speed, you're so close.

"Oh god, I'm so close," you plead, eyes screwed shut, rubbing your clit against the denim; Wanda lightly nibbles your nipple, sending you over the edge; you cum hard, hips bucking wildly into her, digging your nails into Wanda's shoulders, when you open your eyes Wanda is looking at you with dark, hungry eyes, if looks could kill you'd be long gone, you gently push her back to the bed, her legs hanging over the edge of the bed, you climbed off her, your dress hanging on by your hips, you sit on the floor, resting on your heels, you unbutton Wanda's pants and lean forward to pull the zipper down with your teeth, looking up to her innocently, Wanda rest on her elbows, watching you closely, licking her lips slowly, you smile up at her mischievously, lazily dragging her pants down, littering kisses all the way down her legs, you slide your hands up her legs to her clothed pussy, you can already see a wet spot, you find her clit even with her panties on and slowly rub circles, watching Wanda's reaction, she sighs contently, giving herself over to you, you lick a hard stripe up her pussy, Wanda groans frustrated, shes over the barrier muffling the sensations, you smile and move her panties to the side exposing her swollen bud, you lean forward and blow cool air onto her wet pussy, Wanda groans, annoyed you won't give her what she wants, you press your tongue against her clit, gently kitten licking, still not delivering fully, she bucks her hips in search for more pressure but you pull back.

"Uh uh," you say with a smirk, slowly leaning back in and licking harder than before. She groans loudly, throwing her head back; she bucks her hips up shamelessly; you grip her hips and hold her still.

"We do this my way, or we don't do this at all," you say confidently, rubbing circles into her skin; she looks up at you in disbelief, under the impression that she would lead like always; she lets out a disgruntled groan and falls back onto the bed in defeat, you kiss her pussy "good girl, behave and maybe I'll let you cum on my tongue" you spoke, your lips capture her clit gently and suck, not nearly enough for her to cum, but enough for her to feel good, Wanda obediently holds her hips still, taking heed of your warning, you reward her good behavior with a particularly hard suckle, she gasps and closes her legs around your head, you moan, satisfied and pry her legs open, still suckling roughly, Wanda buries her hand in your hair and bucks her hips onto your tongue, you groan disapprovingly and smack her hand away, "don't make me tie you down," you say darkly, slapping her sensitive clit lightly, she whimpered loudly.

"I'll behave," she said agitatedly; you hook your fingers in her underwear and pull them down; she picks her feet up onto the bed, opening her legs, displaying her wet pussy for your eyes only; you lick your lips slowly and attach your lips to her clit, sucking roughly, running your teeth along her clit gently, she moans and quivers, trying her absolute hardest to hold still, you look up at her, she has her eyes tightly closed, fists clenched, knuckles turning white, you almost feel bad, she's trying so hard to behave, you reward her by sliding your finger inside, pumping slowly, you groan, it was so easy pushing in, not a hint of resistance, you curl your finger in search for that bundle of nerves, a moan rips from Wanda’s throat, her legs shake violently, you found the spot, you slowly pump your finger hitting it each time, Wanda is a quivering mess at your mercy and she wouldn’t have it any other way, arching her back, she speaks.

“Ugh, fuck, just like that,” Wanda barks through gritted teeth; grinding down onto your finger; the way her walls spasm around your finger, you can tell she's close; suddenly, you cease all movement and watch Wanda greedily try to fuck herself; Wanda moans frustratedly; you smile and reach under the bed and pull out a pink vibrator, Wanda’s face drops, she's in for it, and she knows it, your face twist in an evil grin and climb on the bed, seating yourself next to her, you flick on the toy and part her pussy lips and press the toy directly on her clit, Wanda cries out loudly; she grips your thigh tightly, looking at you, pleading without saying a word, you set the toy higher, she moans, digging her fingernails into your thigh.

"Fuck, don't stop," she pleads; you knew she would have a firm resolve; you had hoped that she crack by now, you set the toy even higher, and Wanda opens her mouth in a silent scream, determined to get her to break, you slide three fingers inside, curling your fingers expertly, hitting that sweet spot you know drives her crazy, she lets out a scream so loud you're sure she's going to lose her voice, bucking her hips, fucking herself onto your fingers, " mmm so close, I'm gonna cum," she grips the sheets braces for impact. Still, you lift the toy and pull your fingers out; Wanda growls loudly, "What the fuck?!" she booms, looking at you angrily.

"Just say the magic word," you tease; she knits her brows, confused for only a second, and then her face twists mischievously.

"No, make me," she bites back, smirking smugly.

"With pleasure," cockiness dripping off your voice, setting the toy to its highest, pressing it to her clit brutally, "OH!" she moans deafeningly, arching her back off the mattress; you sneer, rubbing the toy in circles; moans pouring out of her, she watches you abuse her clit cruelly, "fuck, so close," she squeals, you push in 2 fingers aiming straight for the g-spot, forcing her to the edge, viciously, you want her as close as possible so you can deny her, Wanda's moans growing louder and louder, blatantly grinding against the toy desperate to cum, and right when she's about to go over the edge, you pull away, smirking when she throws her head back against the mattress.

"Give up?" you asked, raising your brow. Wanda scoffs, "Never, do your worst," she hisses back.

"Suit yourself," you snarl, pulling out an 8-inch dildo. Wanda's face drops; she looks at you, panicked, her eyes flicking between you and the dildo, shaking her head slightly, "What happened? Cat got your tongue?" you asked egotistically, crawling like a predator stalking their prey; you set the toy to low and apply light pressure to her abused clit, Wanda sighs contently, closing her eyes blissfully, unsatisfied with her peace of mind, you slowly slide the tip of the dildo in, Wanda's eyes snap open, you smile and push the toy in deeper, Wanda groans, the stretch stings deliciously, you both moan as you bottom out, Wanda's chest rises and falls steadily, fully engrossed in all the sensations you're providing her, setting the vibrator higher Wanda reacts instantly, gripping the bedsheets, massaging her tits over her shirt, she mewls lifting her hips off the mattress, that familiar coil tightening, you pick up the pace, fucking her pussy quickly, she frustratedly rips her shirt off and pulls her bra down, exposing her tits, she's desperately pinching at her nipples, lips trapped between her teeth, you angle the toy, masterfully hit her spot, she moans loudly, clenching around the dildo, not slowing down, you ask.

"Ready to beg?" fucking her senselessly, Wanda cries out; she tries to answer, but every time she opens her mouth, you thrust the toy, and all that comes out is grunts and groans of pleasure; you set the toy higher and said "answer me," Wanda whimpers loudly, she's been dancing along the edge for so long, her heartbeat thundering in her ears, "no," she hissed defiantly through clenched teeth, "oh?" you questioned, setting the toy to the highest level, Wanda screams, thrashing about, you stop, "ready now?" you teased, "no," Wanda repeated, you turn the toy back on and fuck her ruthlessly, Wanda sobs loudly, tears in her eyes, she looks at you brows knitted together, "I'm-" she squeaks out, "yes baby?" you ask mockingly, still, you keep thrusting into her pussy mercilessly, she opens her mouth and attempts to say something, but all that comes out is whimpers and whines, she pants and watches mouth ajar as the dick disappears in her, you stop, "ready?"

"N-no," she spoke, voice strained, fists clenched; you scoff, turn the toy back on and ram the dildo back in fucking her mind-numbingly fast; a sob rips through Wanda's throat, all she can do is lay there and take it all, she doesn't have the energy to move, "I- so close," Wanda pants out, you pull back, and Wanda whines loudly "no! please I, please let me cum, I’m sorry, please" Wanda pleaded, eyes filling with tears, her lip quivering, you lean down and kiss her forehead. "It's okay, baby," you whisper affectionately and turn the vibrator on high, "Yes!" Wanda moans loudly; as you pump the dick in and out savagely, Wanda is reduced to a blubbering mess, babbling nonsense; the mascara she had on is running down her cheeks; her mouth hangs open, whines and whimpers spilling out before she can stop them. "Please, I'm so close," she weeps, her face contorted in bliss, her body shaking violently. You change the angle of the toy, and Wanda whines loudly; she cums, mouth open in a silent scream, her vision going white, ringing in her ears, gripping the bedsheets so hard it's coming off the corners; you slowly fuck Wanda through it, ceasing when she whimpers in pain.

"Oh my god," Wanda breathes, scoffing in disbelief; she picks her head up, looking at you, smiling from ear to ear, "that was amazing; I loved it," she laughs, sitting up on her elbows, "green is definitely your color."

"I can tell; look at the mess you made," you chuckle, gesturing to the end of the mattress. Wanda looks at you like you have two heads before looking down; there's a big wet spot between her thighs. Wanda squirted, and she didn't even realize it; a deep shade of red crept along Wanda's cheeks and onto the tips of her ears; she hid her face in her hands, groaning loudly; she wanted the world to swallow her whole. She's so embarrassed; you chuckle lightly and gently grab Wanda's wrists, pulling her hands away from her face. Wanda looks up at you, humiliated.

"It's okay, baby, it's natural; I'm impressed I didn't know you could do that," you chuckled, pulling Wanda in for a tight hug, "I didn't know I could do that either; ugh, I'm so sorry," she said, hiding her face in her hands again.

"Don't even worry about it; I'm not mad or anything; we just change the sheets, and end of story," you said, rubbing her back reassuringly. Wanda lifted her head up.

"Are you sure?" she choked up, hiding her face in your neck and wrapping her arms around your torso, "I'm positive, baby, don't worry," you whispered against her forehead.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up."

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bellaxgiornata · 4 months ago

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Accidents

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Mom!Reader Word Count: 1.7k [Collection Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: fluff, humor, and Matt getting an unwelcome surprise

Summary: While distracted talking to you, Matt forgets the first rule of diaper changes.

a/n: Yet again another blurb that grew into the length of a one-shot... I also couldn't get the mental image out of my head of this happening to Matt, so here you go! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Collection Tag List: @danzer8705 @glowstick-lesbian @flowher @geminadeckerwritesstuff @shiorimakibawrites @beezusvreeland @ebathory997 @maryyymothhh @4happilyeverafter @sleepysleepymom @kezibear @charmedkim @midnightramble @carolinaxvz @1988-fiend @marcysbear

Leaning forward towards your laptop on the coffee table with your legs curled up on the leather couch, you reread the paragraph you’d just typed. For the past few weeks this was where you’d been stationed at home fielding emails from work when you were supposed to be on maternity leave.

While you'd been working this afternoon, you’d occasionally paused to glance across the living room, your eyes landing on the bassinet that you’d pulled out from the bedroom earlier. Every few minutes you felt compelled to check and make sure your one month old little boy was still peacefully napping. And every time you did, you longed to be finished with the work you weren't even supposed to be doing–let alone thinking about–so you could get back to just spending time with him.

Releasing a tired sigh, your attention returned to your laptop. As you worked, you became so absorbed in composing the email to your colleague that you hadn’t heard the apartment door open behind you. Neither had you heard Matt hanging up his cane on the wall hook in the entry hall, or the sound of him slipping out of his dress shoes over the loud click click click of your typing. It wasn’t until you felt hands gently landing on your shoulders that you suddenly jumped a couple of inches on the couch in surprise, your head flying over your shoulder as your heart rate spiked.

Matt leaned over the backrest, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Evening, sweetheart,” he greeted.

“Shit, Matt,” you said, throwing a hand over your heart as his hands released you. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“I know,” he replied. “You seemed very deep in concentration.” His brows dipped beneath his dark glasses, his head canting to the side as he paused in thought. “You’re not working again, are you? Because it sort of sounds like you’re working.”

Blowing out an irritated sigh, you nodded. “Try telling my boss that. I swear, every afternoon there’s something she can’t seem to figure out without my help. Though technically what she’s contacting me for isn’t violating any of the terms of my leave, so I can't exactly refuse her.”

Matt’s mouth pulled into a frown as he began to undo the knot of his tie. “Unfortunately,” he muttered. “Though I wish she’d leave you alone. You’re already doing enough as it is.”

“You're not the only one wishing that,” you grumbled.

Turning around and focusing back on your partially written email, you were vaguely aware of Matt making his way around the apartment, slipping out of his suit coat as he walked. But when he paused just in front of the bedroom door, a smile slipping onto his face as his head turned in the direction of the bassinet beside it, your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Watching him over the screen of your laptop, a small smile spread onto your own lips. You remembered how he had been so nervous about becoming a father. You remembered all the late nights he'd paced the living room talking a mile a minute, worried about all the what-ifs he feared would happen and how he was afraid of being a disappointment. But even as you’d listened to his nervous chatter, you'd never once doubted him. You’d never questioned the fact that he'd be a great father.

“Someone’s sleepy,” Matt observed, attention still on the bassinet.

“He’s been out for a couple of hours now,” you told him. ��Downed a full bottle of milk and passed right out. Though I give him a couple of minutes before he wakes.” You shook your head, eyes dropping fondly down to your sleeping son. “I swear he’s got a sixth sense or something,” you said. “Because he always knows every single time you come back home.”

“Like father, like son,” Matt joked.

You rolled your eyes as Matt disappeared into the bedroom, sliding his tie out from beneath his collar. Attention returning to your almost finished email, you hoped you could finally write the last paragraph so you could send it and forget about it.

“Hopefully he at least grows a better sense of self-preservation,” you whispered.

Matt chuckled in the bedroom, the sound drawing forth a smile as you continued to work. Though you’d only managed to type a couple of sentences before the sound of soft, irritated cries rose from across the room. Eyes raising from your laptop yet again, you glanced at the bassinet. Sure enough your baby boy was awake.

“I swear, he always knows,” you muttered under your breath.

Before you could even rise from off the couch, Matt appeared back in the living room. He’d apparently only managed to remove his dress shirt and glasses before he’d been interrupted, leaving him standing there shirtless with the belt buckle on his dress pants undone.

“I’ve got him, sweetheart,” he told you. “Just finish your email. Pretty sure he just needs a diaper change. Nothing I can't handle.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I can get him if you want to finish getting out of your work clothes.”

Matt waved you off as he made his way over to the bassinet. “It’s fine,” he assured you. “Plus, I missed the little guy today.”

Silently you watched Matt, distracted by him bending over the bassinet and scooping your son up into his bare arms. He carried him across the room to the changing table you’d both struggled to set up just before you'd given birth–a comical memory now.

“By the way,” Matt said, gently lowering your son onto the changing table before unsnapping the bottom of his onesie, “Foggy, Marci, and Karen were wondering what time would work best for us to have them stop over this weekend.”

“Oh?” you asked, perking up on the couch. “So they’re finally coming to meet the little guy?”

“Now that things have slowed at the office a little,” Matt said, undoing the dirty diaper on your son as he glanced back over towards you. “Yeah, they were hoping to. Is that alright?”

“More than alright,” you told him. “I could use some company that isn’t a crying baby for once.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed at you. “You have me, don’t you?”

A teasing grin slid onto your face as you fought back a laugh. “I said what I said, Matty.”

The corners of his mouth curled up into that smartass grin he often had before he hit you with a witty comeback of his own, but before he could retaliate, you saw what Matt failed to notice just a second before he realized what was happening. Eyes going wide, you abruptly pointed at the baby behind him as a stream of fresh piss shot up into the air. It wasn’t until the stream hit Matt square in his bare chest, his mouth dropping open in shock, that he realized his son was peeing on him.

“Not again !” Matt exclaimed, hurriedly focusing back on your son.

Throwing a hand over your mouth to cover your laugh, you rose from the couch and rushed over as Matt fumbled to grab a fresh diaper from beside himself in order to cover your son’s continuing stream. Struggling to fight back your amusement, you couldn’t help but find it funny that this wasn’t even the first time this had happened to him.

“The man without fear indeed,” you said, still choking back your laughter.

“What?” Matt distractedly asked.

“You,” you replied, coming to a stop beside him before lightly pushing him out of the way with your hip. “You're quite fearless to change a baby boy's diaper while repeatedly forgetting to keep him covered so you don't get peed on.”

“Well I was a little distracted,” he grumbled.

You held out a clean baby wipe towards Matt, still biting back the amused smile on your face. Matt accepted the wipe from your hand before beginning to clean off his chest.

“You know,” you began, focusing on finishing the diaper change, “for someone with heightened senses, you’d think out of the pair of us that it would be me who kept accidentally getting peed on. But no. Somehow it's always you.”

“Hilarious,” Matt deadpanned.

“I think so,” you teased. “But why don't you jump in the shower?” you suggested, picking the baby back up into your arms when you'd finished securing a clean diaper on him. “I'm sure you don't want to smell like pee for the rest of the night.”

Matt stopped wiping at his chest, his hand dropping back to his side as his shoulders slumped. With his attention returning to you, he asked, “You love when this happens, don't you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, still grinning. “I mean, it's kind of funny how you don't ever seem to learn,” you answered. “Because you’d think after the second or third time you’d remember the dangers of not covering him during a diaper change. Especially after that night last week.”

Matt shook his head, his expression still entirely unamused. “No, not you,” he said. He raised a hand to point a finger at the baby in your arms. “I was asking the little guy.”

Your gaze dropped down to your son before it returned to him. “Matt,” you said, once more struggling to fight down a laugh, “he's barely a month old. He can't even laugh yet. There’s no way he’s doing it for shits and giggles.”

“Uh huh,” he said, turning and making his way towards the bathroom now. “I bet that’s the real reason he always wakes up when I come home.”

Your brows jumped up onto your forehead. “To pee on you?”

“Yes,” Matt called back over his shoulder, the hint of amusement now in his tone. “Just to pee on me.”

Grinning down at the little boy in your arms, you eyed him curiously. “Is that true?” you cooed at him. “Do you do that on purpose? Did you just wake up to pee on your dad?”

Your son only looked back up at you, his mouth opening wide in a yawn before he slowly closed his eyes again.

“Huh,” you mused, carrying the now sleepy baby back towards the bassinet. “Maybe there’s some merit behind that idea after all.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock humor #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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joelscruff · 1 year ago

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stress relief (boyfriend's dad!joel x f!reader) 18+

this is part of my boyfriend's dad!joel series and takes place relatively early on in their relationship, between "safety" and "quickie". so due to me getting covid, i haven't written anything in the past little while. i'm still struggling with a lot of brain fog but i needed some more boyfriend's dad!joel in my life so here we are. hope yall like it 💕 and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip (completely optional but always appreciated). summary: joel has a deadline he has to meet. perfect time for you to try cockwarming ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ratings: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: age gap, daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, cockwarming, creampie, biting (blink and you'll miss it), cheating word count: 3.4k

sex with joel starts slow and easy.

the next time you see him, about a week after that tender moment between the two of you, you have sex with him in his office. it's quiet and careful, a private rendezvous that your boyfriend is blissfully unaware of. he games downstairs in his bedroom while his father pushes his cock inside of you and kisses you sweetly, over and over. your hands tangle in his hair, his glasses bumping against your nose until they fall to the floor along with your panties and his belt.

"oh honey," he groans in your ear as he fucks you deep, your hands digging into the cotton of his sweater as you lay beneath him on the couch, "that's it, sweetheart, there you go." his words have a power over you that you can't define, can only feel. you shudder and pull him closer as you come on his cock, whimpering in his ear.

"daddy," you find yourself whining; it's the first time you've said it out loud, and for a moment you're scared he'll stop, your hands still scrambling against his back and trying to pull him closer in case he does.

he doesn't say anything at first, but he pulls back and looks down at you with a curiosity in his soft brown eyes that doesn't seem disgusted or angry. your fingers dig into his back and you pull your lip between your teeth, panting as he continues to fuck you slow.

"daddy," you whisper again, staring directly in his eyes; a challenge? a message? you're not sure. he stares back for a few more moments, a few more thrusts. and then-

"that's right, babygirl," he murmurs, picking up the pace and reaching down to cradle your face in his big hands, thumbing your warm cheeks, "takin' it so good for your daddy, aren't you?"

and that's it. no complex conversations, no questions or arguments, he takes it at face value and that's that. he understands you. he knows that you need this. no judgement.

he finishes inside you - upon your request. you've been on birth control for a long time and you trust him, somehow even more than your own boyfriend. he wraps his arms around you tightly on the couch, pistons into you while you tug at his hair and moan against his lips. he fucks his come deep inside you until you see stars, then kisses you all over and murmurs the sweetest things, tells you you're perfect, that you did so well. the words and actions leave you in a state of pleasure and contentment you've never felt before. not until him.

he cleans you up and gets you dressed and then holds you in his lap while you bury your face in his neck and tell him all the things that have been bothering you lately. he listens and hums and kisses your nose and tells you he'll be here for you always. and you believe him.

"thank you, daddy," you say softly to him as you leave his office; he seems surprised by the word in a non-sexual context, eyebrows going up. but his surprised expression quickly fades into a tender smile.

"you're welcome, sweetheart," he says, voice soft and kind, "text me if you need to."

the next time you go back, you're afraid he'll have changed his mind. now that he's had you, fucked you, part of you anticipates that he'll end it, especially considering the daddy shit. you plan out in your head what you want to say before he can get a chance to break it off: i've never called anyone it before, it just slipped out. i just feel so safe with you. if it makes you uncomfortable i won't say it anymore, but please don't leave me. please.

it turns out your speech is unnecessary. when you find a free moment to sneak up to his office, he immediately pulls you into his arms and kisses your forehead, trails his fingers up and down your back and whispers, "how's daddy's girl?"

you don't worry about it anymore after that.

"are you stressed?" you ask him one evening, that special day of the week when your boyfriend is beyond distracted by a tournament and barely even registers your existence; you'd come up to joel's office about fifteen minutes ago and he still hasn't noticed you never came back.

you've been watching joel work; that's what you like a lot about this relationship - it's not always about sex. sometimes you just sit in each other's presence, him working while you study a bit for a community college exam you've got coming up. you feel so safe just co-existing with him, never bored or on edge like you are when you're with your boyfriend.

joel is poring over blueprints at his desk, running his hands through his hair and grimacing down at the stack of papers like they're his worst enemy. he looks up at you when you speak, throws you a crooked smile.

"a little bit, honey," he says, eyes scanning back down at the papers as he gnaws his bottom lip, "got a job comin' up and we don't have nearly enough people to get it done in time. tryin' to figure out a schedule without overworkin' these poor folks."

you smile softly, "you're a good boss."

he shakes his head and chuckles to himself, "i don't know about that, but i'm sure as hell tryin'."

he leans back in his desk chair and sighs deeply, pushing his glasses down his nose and thumbing the space between his eyebrows like he always does when he's a little stressed. the way he pushes his legs open, presses up against the back of the chair... it looks like the perfect place to sit.

you get up from the couch and seat yourself in his lap, smirking when he doesn't even protest. he just leans back and smiles up at you, clicking his teeth and shaking his head, "you here to de-stress me?" he asks playfully, one of his hands coming up to squeeze your ass through your shorts.

"maaaybe," you reply melodically, rotating your hips a bit and smiling when you feel his cock already starting to harden in his pants, "if you'll let me."

he sighs to himself, still smiling but shaking his head, "you know i can't today, babygirl. got so much on my plate, need to have it done by five."

"i know," you pout, bringing your hands up to massage his shoulders a bit; his eyes close at your touch, lips parting as he enjoys a brief moment of pleasure, "i just hate seeing you stressed."

he grunts at that, eyes still closed as he leans back even further in the chair. you take this opportunity to grind your hips down into him again, your clothed pussy already getting wet with the sensation. he's almost fully hard now; it's so easy to get him turned on, to make him hard. how he has a better sex drive than your boyfriend is a complete mystery to you - the man is in his 40s and still manages to fuck you every time you ask for it, no pills necessary, sometimes not even any foreplay. meanwhile you can barely even recall the last time your boyfriend gave you any kind of worthwhile experience.

you lean forward to rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, still rubbing and grinding as you whisper in his ear, "want you inside."

he groans, low and quiet, "fuck, sweetheart, why are you doin' this to me?" he doesn't sound irritated, proving it to you when his hands come up to slowly caress your back, "you know how hard it is for me to say no to you."

"then don't," you whisper, breath hot and wet in his ear. your hands move from his shoulders and carefully begin to undo his belt, fingers fumbling slightly due to the odd angle.

"honey, i gotta do my work," he murmurs, but you feel him press a soft kiss to the side of your face, almost like he's encouraging you to keep going, "daddy's busy right now."

you free his belt from its loops and toss it aside, your thighs loosening around him as you go for his zipper and start to pull it down, "then keep doing your work, i just wanna sit on it."

"oh fuck," he mutters, swallowing tightly as you finish unzipping him and begin to tug his waistband down. you both watch as his cock springs free, big and solid between you. you're practically dripping in your underwear, only getting wetter at the sight of him.

"can i sit on it, daddy?" you breathe, pulling back a bit to look into his eyes and give him your most innocent and pleading stare, "please?"

he groans again, shaky and husky as he begins to quickly nod, "yeah, okay, babygirl, you wanna sit on it? you sit on it."

with elation warming your chest you hurriedly stand up and yank off your shorts and underwear, loving the feeling of his eyes on your pussy for the briefest moment before you're back in his lap. he's dripping precum and you use it to your advantage, thumbing it from the tip and spreading it along his length in a few slow pumps. he moans softly and you smirk as you pull yourself up to position him at your entrance, warm and wet.

"you just keep doing what you're doing," you murmur in his ear as you slowly ease yourself down on his cock, letting out a few shaky whimpers, "a-and i'll just sit here 'til you're done."

he waits until he's fully sheathed inside of you to speak, one of his hands squeezing your ass again as he bottoms out, "and you really think you can just sit there without movin', huh?"

you nod, burying your face in his neck again and pressing your body tighter against his, gasping slightly when you feel the head of his cock prod your favorite spot deep inside you. he's so big and thick, exactly what you need every single time.

"i guess we'll see," he says softly, then carefully wheels the chair a bit closer to his desk, hands moving to grip your thighs as he goes back to his blueprints. the movement makes you whimper again, eyes shutting as you gasp into his skin, "i know, babygirl," he murmurs, "i know."

you both do surprisingly well for the first ten minutes or so. it's certainly an adjustment, having joel's cock so deep inside you without any sort of riding or thrusting, or any movement at all for that matter. you close your eyes and just focus on the feeling of being held, being full. you inhale his cologne and bask in the comfort and safety of it, nuzzle against the scruff of his beard and settle more loosely into his lap.

joel manages to do some work, pencil scratching here and there as he crosses things out and adds new things in, consults lists and tries to organize things better. you like listening to him work, like it even better when you can sit like this and be so close to him while he does it. why haven't you tried this sooner? there's something so relaxing about it, so soothing.

you wonder if your boyfriend has noticed your absence yet; it's almost like a game for you at this point, finding out when exactly he cares to notice that you're not in his room anymore, that you're not just sitting on his bed watching him yell at people online. it usually takes about an hour or so, and by that point you and joel have usually finished. you wish you had more time to spare with him, wish you could just be with him like this without the constant time limit looming over your head.

"feels so good," you find yourself whispering softly, and the sound of your voice makes his cock pulse inside you; you smirk at the reaction.

"it does," he agrees quietly, typing something into his computer but wasting no time in turning his head slightly to kiss your temple, "so tight around me, baby."

"love being full of you," you murmur, placing a kiss against his jaw in return, "love your cock."

he hums and noses your cheek, still typing something as he does it. you can't help but think of all the times you tried to show your boyfriend some affection while he was gaming and had just been met with anger and irritation. meanwhile joel has a deadline he's trying to meet but still makes time for this. the difference is staggering.

things start to get a bit difficult around the twenty minute mark; joel had moved the chair slightly and it had somehow resulted in his cock pushing just a little bit further inside, brushing the spot that makes you crazy. you're tensing around him now, breaths coming out a bit shorter as you dig your nails into his back and try your hardest not to move. he knows something's different, can feel the way your body language has changed in his lap.

"just a few more minutes, babygirl," he whispers, one of his hands dancing soothingly along your back, "almost done."

"i can't," you find yourself whining, thighs tightening in his lap as the head of his cock pulses and throbs against the deepest part of you, "i can't daddy, it's so much."

"i know," he murmurs, still rubbing your back as he clicks a few things with his mouse, "i know, baby, it's so deep, huh? but you can do it, just two more minutes."

you nod against his shoulder and whimper pitifully, wishing and hoping internally that it'll somehow be less than that. you're so wet, body aching as you brace down on his cock and wrap your arms tightly around him in the chair. you can feel every inch of him within your walls, every vein, every heavy throb, so big and thick inside of you that you almost want to cry. you're so full of him and so overwhelmed by his scent surrounding you, pulling you in.

"daddy," you whimper, biting down on your lip to try and keep your voice down, "daddy, i'm gonna come."

he's done clicking the mouse and back to typing, hand coming down from your back as he does the last few finishing touches to the schedule he's been working on this whole time, "that's alright, honey," he says quietly, "that's okay, you can come."

"n-need to move, just a little bit," you whisper, "just for a second."

"thought you said you'd be able to stay still, babygirl?" he murmurs, a hint of playfulness in his voice, "thought you just wanted to sit on daddy's cock, nothin' else?"

you whine in his ear, arms tightening around him, "i can't," you moan, almost shaking as your orgasm stirs in your belly, so close but so far, "it's too much, it's too big, i-"

"shhh," his hands are suddenly at your hips, fingers pressing into the soft skin as he holds you firmly on his cock, "it's okay, baby, i'm done, i'm all done."

"you are?" you pull back to look at him and you're ridiculously surprised to see that he looks just as wrecked as you feel; he's taken off his glasses, brow furrowed in pleasure while spots of red bloom across his skin. his eyes are dark and hooded, lips wet and red like he's spent the past half an hour biting them - he probably has.

"i am," he says, voice deep and husky, "you did so good, sweetheart, so good for me," his gaze falls to where you're connected, and you can both see the way your wetness has stained his jeans, his underwear. he groans at the sight and pulls you against him again, one hand pressing flat against your back while the other travels upward to tangle in your hair, "hold on to me, angel."

it's all the warning you get before he's fucking up into you, hard and fast. it's like you haven't both spent the past twenty five minutes in quiet agony, the way he holds you tight and fucks you like you only have a few minutes. and maybe you do - you never know when your boyfriend might knock on the office door, wondering where you are. but that's part of the fun.

"there you go" he grunts in your ear, and you swear you feel him smile against your skin when you start to come, body shaking around him as you cry out and hold onto him tighter, "that's what my babygirl needed, huh?"

it's so hard to be quiet when you're having sex with joel - it's arguably the best sex of your life every single time. you're so close to screaming from the pleasure, from the relentless thrusts of his cock against your cervix while his balls slap against your ass. you have no choice but to dig your teeth into the thick cotton of his sweater, hoping he'll be okay with it, that it won't hurt him too much.

"oh fuck," he groans; clearly he's okay with it because the second your teeth dig into him he's gone, hips stuttering as he stills inside of you and pumps you full, fingers digging perfectly into your hips just the way you like.

you try to say daddy but your mouth is too full for the word to sound like anything substantial, though somehow he knows what you're trying to say. his hands come up to hold you close to him again, his lips pressing kiss after kiss along your cheek and jaw, murmuring praises until he's finished.

both of you sit there in silence for a few moments, catching your breaths and just existing with each other. eventually you have to clamor out of his lap, cock slipping out and making you both moan at the loss. it feels so strange to not have him inside anymore, not after being connected for so long.

he stands and tucks himself back into his pants, zipping himself up and looping his belt while you tug your panties back on. he watches, eyes still dark as you finger some of his come back inside yourself before pulling up your shorts. if there's anything you've both learned from these secret sessions, it's that you love being full of his release. and he loves that you love it.

"that was certainly something," he says with a breathless laugh, eyes coming back up to meet yours, "lasted much longer than i thought i would."

you grin, "did you actually get your work done?"

he grimaces, eyeing the computer, "i think so, but i'm gonna have to check it again and make sure i didn't accidentally put something about your pussy in there."

you feel yourself flush, looking shyly down at the floor, "yeah, that'd be bad."

he takes a step toward you and brings you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head a few times before settling his chin there. you shiver and press your face against his chest, unable to stop tears from pricking in your eyes. you squeeze him tighter and he tilts his head down a bit, nosing your hair, "what's on your mind, sweetheart?" god, he always knows when your mind is somewhere else, can always tell when there's something you're not saying.

"i just..." you sigh contentedly against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut and reveling in the safety of his embrace, "i just really like being with you, joel."

you don't say the other thing you're feeling, the big L word that's starting to feel like a weight on your chest every time you're with him. but it's only been two months, not to mention you're literally dating his son. how did you manage to get in this situation? how have you managed to fall in love with your boyfriend's father?

"i really like being with you too," he whispers softly, presses another kiss to your hair.

and it's enough for now.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*#fic: bd!joel

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pedritomosquito · 2 years ago

Text

All Choked Up (Ch 1)

MINORS DNI

Summary: You're shooting a fight scene with Pedro that involves choking--you know where this is going.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!Reader

Word count: ~4.1k

Content: SMUT, Minors DNI Blog, thigh riding, choking, handy, general steaminess

You had been called in for more shooting after working for a month on The Last of Us as various clickers. You were going to be doing another fight scene, but this time as your normal human self. Wardrobe had just finished with you and one of the PA’s was escorting you to set to be approved by Craig and Jeremy. It looked like they were in between takes of a scene with Joel and Ellie. Pedro and Bella were both sitting on set pieces, laughing and sipping at water.

Craig and Jeremy are crowded around a monitor with several other producers watching the latest take. The PA introduces you and suddenly all of them turn around, examining you. Craig greets you.

“Great to see you again! Thank you for joining us.”

You have to hold in a laugh, because ‘thank you for joining us’? As if you wouldn’t have thrown yourself into fucking LA traffic to be here?

“Thank you for having me,” you smile instead.

At the sound of your voice, you see Pedro perk up out of the corner of your eye. You pretend not to notice his gaze.

“This looks great,” Craig approves. “Can I see it without the scarf?”

The PA unties your neck gaiter.

“Yes, perfect,” He nods. “Thank you Jennifer,” He dismisses the PA and sends you on your way, “See you on set!”

Interesting costuming detail for Craig to be so particular about, but whatever. The PA starts to usher you back towards the wardrobe department.

You hear Bella call your name and you turn, giving them a happy wave. Pedro gives you a wave too.

“Tomorrow–You, me?”” You playfully point between him and yourself, “we’re squarin’ up!”

“No way!” Pedro replies, looking dare you say excited to hear the news that you’d be working together.

“See you at rehearsal!” You call as you slip out the door.

—--

The next day you have stunt choreography for the fight scene in the evening. You dress in a cute matching Lululemon knock off set and report to the rehearsal studio on the lot. The three stunt coordinators are there to greet you and you stretch out until Pedro arrives.

He’s in a tight workout t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Not the gray sweatpants dear LORD.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” one of the coordinators teases, “And ten minutes late, no less!”

“Fuck off, Phillip,” Pedro laughs as he approached, “I’m old and I’m tired.”

“That’s your excuse every day,” You prod.

“Well it’s true every day,” Pedro complains.

“Ready to beat the shit out of each other?” You smirk.

His laugh makes your stomach flip flop.

“Absolutely.”

The stunt coordinators demonstrate the choreography first and you have to make sure your jaw doesn’t hit the floor.

Your character stands yielding a prop knife and his character rushes at you, grabbing your arms. You struggle like that for a beat before the knife gets knocked out of your hands. He keeps his grip on one of your arms as he punches you across the face, then shoves you back up against the wall. Both of his hands come up to your neck and you fight against him until you pass out and he drops you on the floor.

You have always been on your best behavior around Pedro. The poor guy has women thirsting after him at every turn and you don’t want to add to his suffering. You have your own private thoughts about him–many of them not PG rated. But you are there to do a job, to be a professional. You never really allow yourself to entertain any of those thoughts beyond simple fantasy.

But he is about to choke you against a wall.

That alone has you entertaining several new thoughts.

“Alright, how do you guys feel about that?” Phillip asks.

Pedro just nods with a small “great.” He does this stuff pretty much every day so you’re sure none of it phases him.

Phillip looks to you and you must be a bit too wide eyed.

“You look a little uncomfortable,” Phillip notes kindly, inviting you to speak.

Pedro’s concerned expression knocks the wind out of you.

“No, no,” You assure them, “It just looks amazing and I’m hoping I wasn’t padding my resume when I said I had stage combat experience.” You give a little giggle to sell it and god bless being an actor because they all buy it.

“No worries, you definitely got this,” Phillip assures you.

Phillip had not been lying–you pick up the sequence just fine. When it comes time to run the fight with Pedro, you are feeling confident about the choreography but not much else. You mark through it, slowly going through each motion to practice.

You’re pretty sure you black out when he slides his hands under your chin. He is slow and careful and he barely even makes contact with your throat but just the idea, the notion that he could so easily, makes your insides scream.

He eyes you closely making sure you are okay. You feel safe. Somehow that makes it even worse.

You go through some notes and run it one more time slowly before kicking it up to full speed.

The intensity of doing it in real time causes an adrenaline storm. Pedro’s hands are all over you, all power and tight gripped. You desperately hold it together so you won't forget what you’re doing.

The way your back hits the padded wall forces the air from your lungs. Before you can even get a breath in, Pedro’s inches away from your face, hands around your neck. Heat spreads across your cheeks all the way down to your chest. You are sure the shock is written all over your face and you swear Pedro’s eyebrows furrow just a fraction. You take the moment of embarrassment as a good cue to drop to the floor out of his grip.

“That looked great!” Phillip approves, “How did that feel?”

You nearly choke on your spit at the question.

“Good,” you manage to squeak.

You catch Pedro side eyeing you and force yourself to look anywhere else. You bend over and fiddle with your shoelace out of sheer desperation to hide your face.

“Yeah,” Pedro echoes, “Good.”

You can hear the smile in his voice and want to leap out the window.

“Alright, let’s go full out this time,” Phillip says, “Add the acting, the drama, I want it all. Let’s take it from the line before so we can get the timing down.”

You and Pedro square up, getting into position.

“I’m not going down easy,” You play with a quirked eyebrow.

“Bring it,” He challenges.

You both slip into character and you raise your knife.

—-

“Great work, guys!” Phillip chimes, “See you on set tomorrow.”

“You drive here?” Pedro’s voice appears next to you.

“Yep,” You reply, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and pushing open the door. The cool night air glides a chill down your arms.

“Let me walk you to your car,” He offers, “ I just need to grab my stuff.”

“Oh, okay, yeah, that’d be—that’d be great,” You stumble over the words with a smile.

It’s a short walk to his trailer

“What’s been your favorite project you’ve worked on?” He asks.

“I always thought it couldn’t get any better than Mandalorian but honestly I think this show might be my new favorite.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, everything on this show feels so… real. Mando was all soundstages and green screens. Last of Us really feels like we’ve been dropped into an apocalypse,” You explain before cautiously adding, “And I’ve gotten to work with you a lot more.”

“You like working with me, huh?” Pedro asks as he playfully bumps his shoulder into yours, the shadow of a teasing tone in his voice.

You can’t find words for a moment, pausing with your mouth parted. You might as well put all your cards on the table. “Yes,” you finally reply with a small laugh, “I do.”

You can safely toe the boundary of friendship here. You figure he wouldn’t read into it if he wasn’t interested.

Wait. Are you interested? Oh fuck. Of course you’re interested.

Pedro pauses for a fraction of a moment as you arrive at the trailer, looking at you. Before you can say anything, he pulls open the door and holds it for you. You climb inside and he brushes past you as he enters.

“When you showed up here on set,” He says, “I was really happy to see you again.” He sits down on the cream colored loveseat.

So he isn’t just ‘grabbing his stuff’ after all, you guess.

You join him, trying to remember how to sit like a normal human being.

“I thought you were lying when you said you remembered me,” you reply honestly.

“God no,” Pedro chuckles. His gaze on you intensifies, flitting down your body for a moment, his voice dropping a bit lower. “Couldn’t forget you if I tried, sweetheart.”

You suck in a quiet breath. Your mind begins to swim in the suddenly thickening air. How has he managed to make himself so clear in just a single uttered sentence?

He seems to search your face. You realize he’s looking for reciprocation . This isn’t the time to toe the limit at all–it’s the time to cross the line entirely.

The line between colleagues is drawn for good reason, you try to remind yourself. But all logic dissolves in the simmering heat of how he watches you from the other end of the couch.

Fuck the line. What line? Never heard of one.

You switch on a new part of yourself, cocking your head.

“You aren’t too forgettable yourself,” You reply with a soft smirk, making sure to regard every inch of him.

That is all it takes from him to start closing the gap between you, stopping just inches away. He reaches out and slides your bag off your shoulder in slow motion. You stay frozen as it thuds to the floor. The way his eyes never leave you makes your breathing pick up.

“You can leave right now, I won’t hold it against you,” He says quietly, “We can go back to before and I will never try this again.”

You can’t imagine a worse fate. You shake your head desperately.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, eyes glued to yours.

“I want you ,” You whisper.

His lips easily find yours as you feel a hand lace into your hair and another around your waist. The softness of his lips makes you forget to set yourself into motion, too busy melting into it. You finally remember to reach for him, placing a hand on his chest and the other on the side of his neck. You splay your fingers over his bare skin, brushing a thumb against the stubble on his jaw.

His fingers graze over your scalp as he gently grips a handful of your hair. It makes your jaw fall open and he takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth. You grab a fistful of his shirt to pull him closer.

His hand travels up the center of your chest, curving over your collarbone and back down your side.

He is either being a tease or far too respectful.

You take his wrist and guide him to the bottom hem of your tank top, sliding his hand underneath until his fingers come to the elastic of your sports bra. You pull the spandex up out of the way.

His fingertips skate lightly over the bare skin before he cups you, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

You whine against his mouth, arching into his touch. Your head tips back and he kisses down your neck before returning to your mouth. His lips become more insistent, the pressure of his hands roaming your body more firm. You shift to pull your leg up under you on the couch, needing to get closer to him. He untangles his hand from your hair and does you one better, reaching down, grabbing your ass and pulling you into his lap until he has you hovering over him, his knee between yours.

You pull off your tank top and your sports bra.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Pedro murmurs breathlessly as he attaches his mouth to your nipple.

“Fuck,” The word punches out of you and your hands fly into his hair. His mouth is all heat, tongue working in circles and flicks. You imagine his face between your legs doing the same and you shudder at the mere thought.

He grabs your hips and speaks against the skin of your chest.

“Sit.”

He pulls you down firmly onto his thigh.

“Good girl.”

A gasp helplessly escapes your lips and he has you all figured out. He fails to suppress a smirk and you have half the mind to admonish him, but any attempt is interrupted by his mouth returning to your tit.

He guides your hips to grind against him. The feeling of your wet leggings sliding over his sweatpants drags against your clit just right. You whimper against his temple. He tugs your hips forward again as he flexes his thigh into you and your whimper becomes open mouthed, a moan buried in his hair.

Your hips start to roll on their own accord, chasing down the friction.

“That’s it,” He says softly, licking up your chest, “Make yourself feel good, pretty girl.”

You let out a stilted sigh, dropping your head and sucking the skin beneath his jaw. You reach your hand down and press over the crotch of his sweats. You inhale sharply when you feel him already hard underneath your palm.

“You know how hard it was to control myself, hm?” He questions, voice strained as he pushes himself up against your hand, “Keeping everyone from seeing how much I loved having you pinned up against that wall?”

“ God , that was good acting,” you moan.

“Yours needs some work,” he taunts, “‘Could see it all over your face, querida. Bet you were wet for me, weren’t you?”

“Whole time,” you nod desperately.

He drags his fingers up your chest and wraps his hand around your throat.

“Oh fuck,” tumbles from your mouth.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart? My hand wrapped around your throat like this?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “Fuck, keep talking,” you beg, moving faster in his lap.

“You like the sound of my voice, huh?” He prods, “Like it when I tell you how good you are while you fuck yourself on my thigh?”

You only nod with a whine, reaching under his waistband and taking his cock in your hand. You nearly whine again when you feel how thick he is.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hand tightening just a bit around your throat.

The squeak he receives from you in response is equal parts innocent and filthy.

He uses his free hand to shove his pants and boxers down his hips, exposing his cock in your fist.

You pump him slowly, watching the precum leak from his slit. You release him, pausing your own movement to dip your hand into your panties. You slide two fingers into yourself, gathering your wetness, and return to his length.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, his words trapped in the back of his throat as you wrap your slick hand around him. His hand tightens on your neck and he thrusts up into your hand, jolting you back into your own rhythm.

Your free hand is slipped under the neckline of his shirt, placed on his chest to steady yourself. The skin there is firm and radiating heat. You can feel his heart beating as fast as yours against your palm.

“You gonna cum like this?” He asks, “Such a needy girl, making a mess on my thigh?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, god yes,” you babble. You’d say yes to practically anything he could ask of you right now, anything to stay in this moment.

Every word he speaks, every shift in his touch drives your fist around him faster.

“ Fuck you feel so good,” He says through gritted teeth, hand now trailing down your throat, curling his fingers to skim his nails over your delicate skin, “Doing so good for me.”

“Please, please, Pedro–” you blindly plead.

He squeezes his hand, tightening the grip on your neck. It’s hardly enough to affect your breathing, but it fuels the tension growing in your hips all the same. Your motions begin to stutter.

“That’s it, querida,” He hums, “That’s it.”

“I’m gonna–” your stutter, “I’m gonna cum.”

He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and every bit of air deserts your lungs.

“I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

Pure heat sparks and sets you ablaze, flames rolling down your body as you cum, cries forced from you.

“ Good girl , there it is. That’s a good girl,” He grinds out the words, pushing himself harder up into your fist. “Fuck, that’s it, fuck ,” A strangled noise catches in his throat, stripes of white painting your hand and his shirt as you ride out your high.

You lean forward to collapse against him, pressing your head to his shoulder, and you both try to catch your breath. He wraps his arms around you, fingers absently tracing over you back.

“Thank you,” you sigh.

“ Thank you ?” He nearly giggles, “Jesus Christ, all I did was sit here!”

“Then you’re welcome,” you breathe, “Like, very, incredibly, definitely welcome literally any time.”

His laughter bounces against your chest.

“Don’t go making offers that are too good to be true, now,” he warns, and you can feel his grin against the side of your neck, “I can’t take the heartbreak.”

So you’re not the only one who wants this to be more than a one time thing. Fuck yeah.

“Any. Time.” You repeat, whispering in his ear.

——-

Coco is setting up her station next to Stephanie and Jess for the afternoon. The hair and make up department is an integral part of The Last of Us because of the extensive clicker-fication process. Coco always jokes with Pedro that she has the easiest job out of everyone–make a man, who is already gorgeous, gorgeous. Not much to do there, just upkeep on Pedro’s gray hair and ensuring he’s grimy enough for an apocalypse.

You walk into the room bundled in a scarf and find Jess’s chair, greeting her. You had never met before and you were a little nervous. Coco, on the other hand, you’d talked to a few times.

“Okay, so, I might have screwed up a little ,” You admit to Jess, immediately piquing the curiosity of the women around you. You were about to make Jess’s job a bit harder.

“Oh?” Jess says.

“So, um, I get uh–strangled, in the scene we’re shooting today so there’s going to be a lot of focus on… my neck…” You preface hesitantly.

Coco whirls around.

“You didn’t,” She gasps, scandalized.

You grimace apologetically as you unwrap your scarf.

“I did.”

There’s no way they could possibly know that Pedro put the hickey blooming dark purple on your throat unless they’re mind readers, but still. You’re paranoid that somehow everyone will know what you did last night with Pedro.

Could see it all over your face, querida.

“You have girl bossed too close to the sun,” Coco shakes her head while Jess and Stephanie giggle.

You cover your face with your hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jess laughs, “You’re hardly the first actor to need some hickey cover up. Happens all the time–we’ll get you fixed up.”

Jess does an excellent job as promised and your neck looks pristine.

You thank her endlessly and slip out the door to go to wardrobe.

Just a moment later, Pedro speeds into hair and make-up, greeting Coco and plopping down in her chair.

“I need a bruise covered up,” he says simply.

“How’d you hurt yourself this time, old man?” Coco asks.

“Uh, it’s not exactly that kind of bruise,” he replies sheepishly. He pulls down the turtle neck he’s wearing, revealing the hickeys he’s sporting up his neck.

Coco, Stephanie and Jess all exchange a look. Stephanie is desperately trying to suppress a smirk and Jess has to turn away to contain herself.

You and Pedro are none the wiser that you’re totally busted.

“ Pedro ,” Coco scolds him playfully.

“I know, I know,” he sighs.

“Pass me that concealer, Jess?” Coco asks, “We’d better get started. This might take a while since someone decided to sell his body last night.”

“Oh shut up,” Pedro waved her off with a bashful chuckle, “Vete a la chingada.”

“Pedge, I’m immune to your spanish insults. I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Allow me to translate: fuck. off.”

“Never.”

—————-

You're sitting on the sidelines of the set, absently going over your script and blocking.

“Hello you,” a low voice rings next to you.

A smile climbs onto your lips and you keep your attention on the pages.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you chime.

“Come here often?”

You giggle, finally looking up at him, but your breath is stolen. God , he looked so good as Joel.

“Querida, your face,” he chuckles, “we talked about this.”

You pause for a moment and realize what he’s implying. You must be blushing. Or drooling.

“I have no idea how I have an acting career,” you murmur.

He’s laughing and you can’t help but be reminded of a ray of light. He’s like a bright beam, reflected and refracted into a spectrum of color, streaking boldly across a sunlit room. Maybe you didn’t understand how someone could be ‘beaming’ until now.

He looks like he almost starts to reach out to touch you, maybe tuck a stray hair behind your ear or place a hand on your waist, but he aborts the movement.

Phillip approaches you and you break from your trance.

“Hey guys!” He greets, “how about a quick dry run fight before shooting?”

“Sounds good,” Pedro nods as you agree.

Someone from the props department appears with your fake knife and you thank them.

You do a slow motion run through, making sure the spacing and blocking is perfected for the set pieces around you.

The full speed run is just as intense as the first time you had tried it the night before. You’re panting on the floor by the end, and Pedro extends a hand to help you to your feet. You look up at him from underneath the fan of your lashes and he stares down at you all the same.

“Alright you definitely have the choreography down!” Phillip sings his praises and declares you both ready for filming.

“We’re going to start shooting in just a minute here,” Craig informs the room.

Jess is there, coming over to touch up your make up one last time and the guy from props reappears, returning the discarded knife back to you.

“You and Pedro have us sharing the good setting powder,” Jess laughs to herself, taking some onto her brush before Coco steals the container with a smile as she passes by.

It hits you all at once.

You left hickeys all over Pedro last night, didn’t you? You look over and see Coco brushing the powder over the side of his throat.

“ Jess, ” Your eyes are blown wide.

She pauses, regarding you with confusion for a moment until the realization appears on her face.

“Oh! Don’t worry, we’ll never tell. Makeup artists take an oath of secrecy,” She explains. “ However ,” She adds, “I am living vicariously through you. Just full transparency.”

“Fair,” you reply a bit distantly, still watching Pedro.

—-

Coco goes over to Pedro and starts on her final touch ups.

“You know,” she says quietly after a moment, “The weirdest thing happened earlier.”

“Yeah?” Pedro asks, suspicious of her playful tone.

“Yeah,” she replies, “A minute before you came in asking us to cover up your hickeys, your scene partner came in needing the same thing.”

“That is… quite a coincidence…” He agreed slowly.

“I’m glad one of us had sexcapades last night,” she assured him, “all I did was watch tv.”

“Please never say ‘sexcapade’ ever again,” Pedro muttered.

“Look, if you’re going for subtlety–tone it down,” She advises, “You look like you’re about to jump each other’s bones, not kill each other.”

“Fuck, it’s that obvious?” He asks.

She just replies with raised eyebrows and a smirk. “But–hey,” she says sincerely, “Good for you, Pedge. You deserve it.”

“Stop–” He swats her away with an embarrassed smile, “Making me blush. Joel doesn’t blush.”

“Go get ‘em tiger,” She pats him on the back before leaving.

A/N: Tell me what you liked most! I wanna know what my beloved slutty lil readers enjoy!

Chapter 2

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #hbo the last of us #pedro pascal smut #fanfiction #tlou

1K notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 5 months ago

Text

Pretty Woman {Max Lord x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.6k

Warnings: Prostitution, sex work, mentions of drug use, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, protected sex, mentions of classicism and discrimination, anal sex, public sex, domestic violence, assault

Comments: A chance encounter on the boulevard has Max Lord paying to spend a night with you, then the week. Giving you an experience you never imagined.

A/N: Obviously based off Pretty Woman with Julia Roberts, but we did not add any physical descriptions of the reader beyond being able to wear clothing from Rodeo Drive

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Max Lord MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The boulevard is busy tonight. Cars pass by but no one stops to pick you up. You sigh, reaching up to scratch your scalp under the itchy blonde bob wig you're wearing. Your feet are starting to ache in these ridiculous boots Kit gave you to wear. "We say what. We say who. We say how much." Kit reminds you as you stand on your corner and your head turns when a sports car comes along the street, the gears grinding. "Catch this." Kit says and your eyes widen, "that's a Lotus Esprit." You exclaim, watching the car come to a screeching stop.

"No. That's rent. You should go for him." Kit says and you huff, "you look hot tonight. Don't take less than one hundred." She finishes, reminding you once again that your rent is due tonight. "Call me when you're through and take care of you." She says and you nod, adjusting your dress after you give her a hug. You take your jacket off, swaying your hips as Kit tells you to work it and you approach the car.

"You can handle this." Max says to himself as he fiddles with the gearshift.

"Hey sugar, you looking for a date?" You ask as you lean in the window.

"No, I wanna find Beverly Hills, can you give me directions?" Max asks, clearly frustrated and you smother your smirk.

"Sure....for five bucks." You say and Max scoffs, "that's ridiculous."

You shrug, "price just went up to ten." Max looks at you incredulously, "you can't charge for directions."

You chuckle, "I can do whatever I want baby, I ain't lost." You shift away from his window and he sighs, "fine. You got change for a twenty?" He asks and you shake your head as you get in the front seat.

"For that, I can show you personally. This is a hot car. Uh, lights would be good." You tell him as he pulls away from the curb. He comes to a stop at the light and you can tell he's struggling to drive this car. "What's your name?" He asks you after telling you he did not steal the car.

"What do you want it to be?" You ask and he turns to look at you with those dark eyes that seem to look through you. You sigh and give him your name. He tells you he's staying at the Beverly Wiltshire and you are impressed, giving him directions. "This car is amazing. Four cylinders and it rounds corners like it's on rails." You exclaim and Max looks at you, "you know about cars?" He asks and you shrug, "grew up around it at home. Mustangs...corvettes...they'd fix 'em up and sell 'em." You explain and the gears grind.

"You ever driven a Lotus?" Max asks and you shake your head. "Well, you're going to now." He says and you're soon behind the drivers wheel.

"These have pedals that are really close together so it's easier for a woman to drive." You tell him, "good for little feet. Did you know your foot is the length of your wrist to your elbow?" You ask Max who stares at you in amusement.

"No, I didn't know that." He confesses, "tell me...what kind of money do you girls make nowadays?" Max asks.

"No less than $100..." You say, "a night?" Max raises his eyebrows and you shake your head, "an hour."

"An hour?" He asks, "you make $100 an hour and you got a safety pin holding your boot up? You gotta be joking." He snorts and you shrug, "I never joke about money."

Max chuckles, "neither do I. $100 an hour is pretty stiff." He says and you smirk, sliding your hand into his lap to press your hand into his groin, "well, no, but it's got potential." You tease until you pull your hand back and focus on driving to the Wiltshire.

Max looks out over the city and his stomach twists with nerves and anticipation. He is here to make his mark, to take over a company that had once looked down on him, refused to do business with him. Now he is poised to take over. To dismantle it piece by piece as soon as the deal is done. Despite his thousand dollar suits and suite at the Beverly Wiltshire, he’s not as confident as he pretends to be. “How much for the night.” He asks suddenly, deciding that he will do better if he spends the night with a beautiful woman and you are that.

You smirk, looking over at him. "Honey, you couldn't afford me." He snorts, "try me." You squeeze the steering wheel, "three hundred." You tell him, knowing you need to pay your rent.

Max mulls it over for a second before he nods, "done."

You internally squeal, knowing Kit is gonna be so proud of you. You pull up outside of the hotel and he is greeted by the doorman. "Welcome, Mr. Lord." You are impressed and he glances at your dress, shrugging off his Burberry trench coat.

"Put this on." He says and you frown, following his order.

"Great. Now I look like a hooker in a trench coat." You joke and his eyes meet yours for a second before he's heading into the hotel. "Holy shit." You hiss in shock at the expensive decor. He checks in and orders champagne and strawberries for the room. "Ooo fancy." You coo, caressing his back and trying to ignore the stares of everyone in the lobby of the hotel. He is soon escorting you to the escalator and you notice the woman looking at you with disdain so you lift your leg up onto the silver trash can by the escalator. "Oh no, honey. I've torn my pantyhose." You huff and caress your thigh. "Oh wait...I'm not wearing them." You giggle, winking at the woman's husband before you lower your leg. The escalator doors open and you rush in, excited to see this hotel room.

Max tuts, smirking slightly at your moxie as he follows you inside. He’s decided that he likes you. You aren’t stiff and boring, just like his ex-wife accused him of being. Pressing the button for the penthouse, he watches your eyes widen dramatically. He doesn’t expect that your clients often take you to the penthouse. He watches you fidget, wondering what you will do with the three hundred dollars he is paying you. Hopefully it’s not for drugs.

When the elevator arrives, the bellboy watches you as you walk down the hall to the double doors and Max turns to look at him, eyebrows raised, until the young man's face falls and he straightens up. Max unlocks the door and you walk in, mouth open as you take in the lavish suite. "Impressed?" He asks and you shrug, "you kidding me? I come here all the time. As a matter of fact, they do rent this room by the hour." You tease him, walking out onto the balcony. "I bet you could see all the way to ocean from here." You exclaim and Max sits down at the desk, "come inside." He tells you, "I don't go out there."

You frown as you walk in, setting your purse down on the sofa. "Why not?" You ask and he sighs, "I'm afraid of heights." You snort, "then why'd you get the penthouse?"

Max straightens up a little, "it's the best." He declares and you nod, confused by his desire to have 'the best of everything' and yet he hired you for the night.

"Now that I'm here...what do you want to do?" You ask, biting your lip and he sighs, "I - I don't really know." You are surprised by this. Most men would've already been having a smoke after getting their orgasm over with. You sit down on the sofa, "well...one way to break the ice is to pay me." You tell him and he nods, reaching into his jacket for his pocket book and he pulls out three one hundred dollar notes. You move to sit down on the edge of his desk and take the cash, shoving it in your boot.

"You're on my fax." Max tells you and you chuckle tilting to the side so he can pull the paper out from under your ass, "well that's one I haven't been on before." You unzip your boot, pulling out the condoms you keep there. "Right. Pick one. I got red, I got blue. I'm out of purple. I have one gold coin left. The condom of champions. Nothing getting through this sucker." You flick it and lean closer to him.

He stands up and you reach for his jacket. "Right, let's get one of these on you?" You suggest and he shakes his head, "why don't we just talk for a bit?" You click your tongue, "talk. Yeah, uh, okay. Max...are you in town for business or pleasure?" You ask, watching him sit down on the sofa and you move to straddle him but he moves so you sit down on the ottoman. "I think you're a lawyer." You guess, crossing your arms and leaning forward to let him see your cleavage.

His eyes flicker down to your chest and he can’t help the way his cock twitches in his suit trousers. “Business.” He answers. “Not a lawyer, lawyers are bloodsucking bastards.” He huffs, rolling his eyes at how much his team of lawyers costs him per hour.

You giggle, reaching out to caress his thighs as he reclines against the sofa. “Ain’t that the truth.” You say just as the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it. Make myself useful.” You stand up and walk over to the door. The hotel worker is surprised when his eyes trail down your dress and he asks where you want the champagne. “Where do we want it?” You ask Max.

“On the bar.” He says and the man carries it over. He stands there after he sets it down and stares at you expectedly.

“What you looking at?” You ask and Max sighs, standing up and pulling a note out of his pocket. “Here.” Max says and the man nods, “thank you sir.” He exits the door and Max comes over to pop the champagne.

“Oh.” It’s cute, the way you deflate slightly when you realize you had been a little overzealous in your attitude towards the bellboy. “Here.” He pours a flute of champagne and hold it out to you. “Have it with a strawberry.”

You frown, “why?” You take a large gulp of the champagne before you bite on the strawberry.

“Just relax. I got some work to do.” He says and walks over to the desk. You frown at his retreating form and you sit down and grab the tv remote. You turn it on to an old episode of “I love Lucy” and you lay down on your stomach with the strawberries and champagne.

Max looks up from the report and smiles as he watches you. You’re kicking your feet and laughing like a little kid. It’s sweet and you don’t seem like a woman of the night, even with your provocative dress on. It’s honestly a joy to watch you and he has to tear himself away to look back down at the report.

You giggle at the show until Max tells you he’s done with his work. “So…you wanna keep talking?” You ask Max after you sit down on the sofa beside him. He stares at you for a second, his dark eyes burning into you in a way you’ve never felt before, and he slowly shakes his head. He leans in towards you but you pull back, “I have one rule. I don’t kiss.” You tell him and he nods. “Tell me what you like.” You demand softly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t really know.” Max admits softly. He knows you are more experienced, you have sex for a living. “What do you like? For yourself?” He knows that he will cum no matter what, but he would like to learn something that maybe he doesn’t know. Which wouldn’t be hard to do.

You’re surprised. No one ever asks you that. You never ever expect to cum or receive pleasure. You’re here to do a job. To make him feel good. “I, uh, I like to ride. I like to feel a little in control.” You confess, knowing that most men want to fuck you from behind to make them feel powerful.

“Okay.” He nods seriously, thinking about how he feels about that. “Then ride me.” He decides. “You choose the condom you’re comfortable with, and you can decide how fast you go.”

You nod, taking the gold condom from your boot before you pull them to the side, taking off your socks as well. He watches you, making no moves, and you decide to make this good for him. You set your boots aside and place the condom on the coffee table, grabbing a cushion from the sofa, you kneel between his legs and rub the bulge in his expensive slacks. “I want to suck your cock first.”

He’s surprised that you want to do that, his cock twitching in interest. “You don’t have to.” He promises. “I’m not- it’s not- you want to?” He is a little breathless at the prospect.

You nod, reaching for his Gucci belt buckle to undo it and you unbutton his pants. “Wanna make you feel good.” You murmur as you reach in to pull his hard cock out of his pants. He’s thick and your mouth waters as you lean in to lick a stripe along the underside.

“Oh fuck.” Max chokes out, his head dropping back against the sofa cushions and his eyes close. Your tongue is hot and wet against his cock and makes his stomach twist in pleasure. “Do you- do you like doing this?” He pants out quietly, a little more of his accent slipping out involuntarily.

You pull back, wrapping your fingers around him. “I don’t do this.” You confess, “I- I wanted to do this for you.” It’s true. You never allow oral but you want to do this for him after he’s shown you such a good time already. “I love doing this baby.” You coo, taking his head into your mouth and keeping your eyes on his.

Max groans, twitching in your mouth and biting his lip so he doesn’t grab your head. You are the one setting the pace and he finds it intoxicating. You are so pretty looking up at him with his cock in your mouth. “So pretty.” He praises. “It’s so good, baby, you’re so good to me.”

His slight accent has you getting wet and you moan around him, loving the way he groans and praises you. Your hands caress his thighs, still clad in a designer suit, but you take his cock a little deeper. Your spit combined with his pre-cum dribbling into the material. You moan around him, closing your eyes as you widen your jaw and breathe through your nose.

“It’s been so- so fucking long since I’ve had this.” Max moans out the confession, sure that it’s the best fucking blow job he’s ever had. “You gotta- gotta stop.” He pants out. “Gonna cum if you don’t.” His cock throbs and he wants nothing more than to spill down your throat but he wants you to ride him. He wants to feel your cunt around his cock.

You pull off of him, letting him decide what his body needs, and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before you stand up. Your eyes meeting his as you slowly begin to remove your clothes, wanting to give him a show when he’s paying a lot of money for you. You tease, turning around and bending over as you remove your panties, his dark eyes fixed on your body as his chest heaves. When you turn around, you move to straddle his lap and lean in to run your nose along his jaw.

Max hums, still nearly completely dressed with just his slacks opened and his cock pulled out. It’s slightly sexier this way, with you naked on top of him. His hands are hovering over your hips for a few moments before he touches you. Groaning out loud when he grips your flesh and realizes this is actually going to happen.

You reach out to grab the condom, opening the foil packet and you pinch the tip before you work it down his cock. “Shit. You’re so thick.” You murmur, admiring him for a second before you move closer, lifting up to notch him at your entrance. You slowly sink down onto him, your eyes on his face as you take him inside of you for the first time.

“Shiiiiiiiit” Max hisses, loving how tight you are as you slide down his cock. Taking him deep until your ass is against his thighs. He twitches deep inside your hot walls and he grits his teeth to keep from moving. “Holy shit, baby. You’re so tight. So hot.”

You watch him struggle with the need to take over. You can tell he’s used to being in control. You love the strain in his jaw as you start to slowly lift off of him. The slight whine that escapes his clenched teeth as you lift up until only the tip remains inside of you, then you slowly sink back down. “You can touch me, baby.” You remind him, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” He slides his hands over your hips and up to cup your tits. “You are so- so tight.” He groans. “Are you going to ride me or tease me?” He demands with a pout, groaning again when you clench down around him. He’s so close to cumming already and you’ve barely started riding him.

You tut, reaching up to grab his cheeks, “I’m in control of pace, remember?” You remind him, clenching around him again and he almost whimpers. Fuck, it’s intoxicating to have a man like him, powerful and rich, whimper for you. You take pity after a second, shifting to grab his shoulders for leverage as you start to move on top of him.

Max nearly whimpers again when you slowly roll your hips, your cunt locking down around him like a vice. You’re gorgeous and your mouth watering tits are in his face. “Can I suck on them?” He asks you desperately, wanting to touch you and make you feel as good as he does.

You nod, reaching out to run your fingers through his hair, dragging his face to your chest. You moan when he wraps his lips around your nipple, biting down softly and you move your hips a little faster, loving the way he stretches him out.

It’s been a long fucking time since he’s fucked anyone and even longer than that since someone ridden him. He loves it though. For a moment, he pretends that you aren’t being paid and you want him. His cock twitches every time he sucks on your tit and it’s only when it’s hard and puffy does he switch over to the other.

Usually, you barely react to sex. It’s a job. Something to pay your rent and you’ve perfected the art of moans and whimpers to make the man paying you cum quicker. Tonight though, you’re in no rush. Max’s hands caress your back and his lips suck on your nipple, making you whimper and throw your head back. It’s the best you’ve felt having sex in so long. He’s thick and you feel him in places that seemed forgotten with your other clients. The control you have is intoxicating and you rock your hips a little faster, trying to find that spot that makes you cum.

Max groans into your flesh, his hands sliding down to your ass and squeezing. He doesn’t try to guide you, just rolls with your movement as he lavishes attention on your breasts. Enjoying it so much more that he had before because of the moans you give him. You’re incredible and you don’t make him feel inadequate.

“Fuck.” You hiss and grind forward, adjusting the angle and you moan at the way his cock hits just right inside of you. You bounce a little faster, “oh God. I- I’m gonna cum.” You confess breathlessly. You never orgasm with a customer. Most just rut into you until they cum a minute later but Max has you shaking above him.

“Don’t fake.” He begs, not wanting you to pretend like his ex wife claimed she did all throughout their marriage. “Want you to really cum for me.”

“Not- not faking.” You promise and reach for his hand, bringing it to your clit. “Rub.” You demand breathlessly and he wastes no time rubbing your clit. It’s perfect. The angle and his touch. You rock a half dozen more times until you cry out, clamping down on his cock and you moan his name.

Max chokes out a moan, Finding you completely gorgeous as you shake apart for him. Your cunt is like a vice around him and he’s not going to be able to hold out. “Fuck, baby.” He hisses, leaning forward and burying his mouth against your pulse to keep from kissing you as he starts to fill the condom.

You moan as he cums, caressing his shoulders and back, and you rock him through it. “So good, baby. So good.” You murmur as he groans into your skin.

You weren’t faking, you couldn’t have faked that. Max moans into your skin, sighing softly when he relaxes. “Fuck.” He pants, still breathing you in. Your perfume is surprisingly bright and clean and he enjoys it. “That was amazing.”

You are pleased he’s happy. Reaching down to grip the base of his cock before you lift off of him, slumping down on the sofa as you try to catch your breath. You haven’t had an orgasm in so long and you turn to look at Max. “Satisfied, Mr. Lord?” You ask teasingly.

Max hums, still blissful from his orgasm. “Call me Max.” He murmurs. “I think that I might actually sleep tonight.” His hand slides over to stroke your thigh. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You nod, “I did. It’s rare that I do but there’s something about you.” You admit, placing your hand on his. “Well, I’ll get my clothes.” You say but his grip on your thigh tightens.

“Don’t go yet. I paid for the night. Stay. Have a shower.” He offers and you nod, knowing it will be hard to get home this late.

Max tucks himself away and settles back down with another report while you go into the bathroom. After a few minutes he hears the water start and then some singing. Making him pause and listen for a minute before he starts to grin. It’s off key and pitch, but enthusiastic. Making him shake his head as he looks back down.

You sing in the shower, cleaning off until you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “I, uh, I don’t really have anything to wear.” You tell him as you glance at your tiny dress and he nods, standing up and making his way over to his closet to open it and take a white shirt out. “Here you go.” He says and you drop the towel, shrugging on his shirt and buttoning it up. “Thank you.” You wink at him and make your way over to the champagne bucket to pour another glass for each of you.

There something about having you here. Just your presence is nice, different from the austere penthouse. He’s not lonely. You turn the tv back to another older show and bring both of the glasses over to where he is sitting and plop down beside him.

You giggle as you watch the show while he looks over his reports again until you are closing your eyes in exhaustion. "Sleep." Max orders, jerking his chin towards the bedroom. You nod, stumbling into the bedroom and Max pulls the covers over you as you settle into the ridiculously soft bed. Max doesn't get in beside you, he closes the door and gets back to his reports, deciding to shower after you're asleep. You huff as the wig you've been wearing all night - even in the shower- digs into you so you grab it from your head and toss it on the chair, pulling off the hair net to let your hair free. You sigh as you settle back in and are soon passed out in a place you never expected to sleep.

It’s after two in the morning when Max decides to go to bed. Showering and then changing into fresh boxers, he stops when he sees you laying in the bed. The short blonde wig was obvious just that, but your natural hair is beautiful. You look so serene, sleeping on your stomach facing the empty side of the bed. As if you are waiting on him. He smiles softly as he climbs in beside you and turns to watch you sleep until his own eyes close.

When you wake up, the sunlight is shining through the curtains and you get up to pee and use some of his toothpaste to freshen your breath. Your hair is a mess but you try to fix it as you walk out into the living area in his shirt. "Hi." You say to Max as he is sitting at the table with his back to you.

He turns to look at you and nods, "good morning." You run your hands along your sides and bite your lip, "I, uh, wig." You point at your hair and Max smiles softly, "I like it." Your heart thumps at that but you push it aside, "I can get my clothes and go." You say but Max shakes his head, "come sit down. Have some breakfast. I, uh, I didn't know what you like so I got one of everything." He lifts the silver lids up and your eyes widen. "Wow. Thanks." You reach out to pick up a croissant and he picks up his reports. "So Max. You aren't a lawyer...what exactly is it you do?"

“Merger and acquisitions.” Max tells you, folding his newspaper over and smirking at you. “I make money.”

“Right. That explains everything.” You snort sarcastically. “So you’re smart, huh?” You ask and he looks at you. “I didn’t finish eleventh grade.” You confess, “how much school did you do?” You ask him and he tilts his head, “I went all the way.” Your eyebrows raise but you’re not really shocked. He seems smart. “Wow. Good for you. So what are you in town working on now?” You ask and he sighs, “I’m working on acquiring a company for a billion dollars and -”

You choke at hearing the figure. “One - one billion?” You ask and he nods. “Oh God. That’s - you really are smart. So you get the company and then what?” You ask, ever curious.

“I buy it and then break it apart. Sell off the assets for more money than I bought the company for.” He explains, “I wasn’t this successful when I got started. Had a lot of fuck ups but I have learned along the way.”

You gesture to the suite, “clearly.” He stands up, “I’m going to get ready.” He says and you watch him go and change into his suit. He comes out ten minutes later in a bespoke suit but he’s struggling with his tie. You walk over to him to help and soon perfect a Windsor knot. “How do you know how to do this?” He inquires, his dark eyes on yours.

You smirk, “I screwed the whole debate team.” He chuckles and you wink at him. “My grandpa was a sweet man and he’d go to church so I’d help him with his tie.” You tell him the truth and he nods, reaching behind you to grab his briefcase. “Can I have a bath before I leave?” Max nods and you smile, kissing his cheek before you disappear into the bathroom and the phone rings.

It’s Max’s assistant, informing him that the owners of the company have invited him to some functions while he is in town. Frowning, he remembers that he cannot show up to these functions without a date, he had told James Morse that he had been in a relationship and Jessica had broken up with him because he was always working. To be fair, he had just spent a month away dismantling another company and hadn’t seen her in nearly forty-five days. The singing in the bathroom had started up again, this time it sounds like you are skinning a cat and he grins, telling his secretary to accept the invitations on his behalf and a date. Hanging up, he walks into the bathroom to find you have drawn a bubble bath and have headphones on as you screech along. Chuckling, he stands next to the tub and waits for you to notice him.

You continue singing until you open one eye and see Max perched on the edge of the tub. You throw the headphones for the walkman on the side and internally groan in embarrassment. "Mr. Lord." You greet him, trying to act cool, "Don't you just love Prince?" You grin and he shakes his head.

"More than life itself." You shake your head, "don't you knock?"

Max sighs and says your name, "I have a business proposition for you." You ask him what he wants. "I am going to be in town until Sunday and I'd like you to spend the week with me."

You grin, unable to believe your luck. "Why? You're a rich man. Handsome. You could have anyone... for free." You add and he shakes his head, "I want a professional. I don't want romantic entanglements." You chew the inside of your cheek for a second, "as much as I'd love to be your beck and call girl, it's gonna cost you." You hum and he leans closer, "How much?"

You tap your chin, "six-night, the days too...$4000."

His eyebrows raise, "at $300 a night, it's $1800." He tells you and you shrug, "days too." He sighs, "$2000."

You shake your head, "$3000." Max nods, "deal." Your eyes widen and you can't help but sink under the bubbles, unable to believe your luck.

Max smirks as he watches you do a little dance under the water and then immediately come back up. “Yes! Yes.” You gasp out, wiping the soapy bubbles from your face. “I’m your girl.”

He chuckles. “Good, now, I’m going to need you to go get a cocktail dress. Something nice. These are important people and I want you to look the part.” He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a money clip, peeling crisp hundred dollar bills off until he feels like you have enough, about $1200 dollars and holds it out to you.

Your eyes widen as you stare in shock at the money in your hands. "What do you want me to get?" You ask, climbing out of the bath and following him as he rushes through the penthouse, getting his jacket and briefcase.

"Classy. Not too sexy. Elegant." He says and you roll your eyes, "boring then." He nods, walking over to the door, "go shopping. Have fun." You nod and watch him go, the door shutting behind him and you rush into the bedroom, squealing in delight at your luck.

Eventually you calm down and call Kit, giving her the good news. You ask her where to go shopping and she says, "one place in Beverly Hills...Rodeo Drive." You tell her you're leaving the rent money at the desk and you get ready, making your way downstairs to leave the money and you head over to Rodeo Drive.

The boutique that you walk into is obviously expensive and the workers there are immediately suspicious of you. “Oh my god.” Cordelia whispers to her co-worker. “A prostitute just walked into our store, can you believe it?” She purses her lips and continues to go through the clothes on the rack even though you are asking for help.

You ask her about the clothes on the mannequin, at a complete loss of what to do in a store like this. “How much is this?” You ask and she lightly scoffs under her breath.

“It’s very expensive.” She says, “I don’t think it would fit.”

You huff, “I didn’t ask if it would fit, I asked how much.”

She sighs, looking at her colleague, “I don’t think we have anything in here that would work for you.” She says and your stomach drops. You feel sick. You swallow back the tears and rush out of the store. Making your way back into the hotel, you get accosted by the manager, asking you who you’re here to see. “Maxwell Lord.” You tell him and his eyes widen, looking at the bellboy who confirms you are staying in the penthouse.

“Come this way.” He says, escorting you to his office. “This isn’t your usual hotel, Miss. This is the Beverly Wiltshire. This is a fine establishment and we don’t have women like you staying here.” You nod, feeling reprimanded but you won’t be defeated, not with $3000 on the line. “Mr. Lord, however, is a valued customer and he spends a lot of money here. We can overlook your…occupation for his sake. If anyone asks, you’re his niece. Understood?” He says, eyes burning into you and you nod.

“Yes sir.” The manager nods, “now, Mr. Lord has a reservation at our restaurant tonight and I’d assume you’re attending with him. Do you have anything else to wear?” He asks and you shake your head.

“I went to Rodeo and they were so rude. They treated me like trash. I- I don’t have anything else.” You pull out the money Max had given you. “I have all this money and no dress.”

The manager nods, picking up his phone. “Women’s department, Bridget please.” He asks and waits for a brief moment. “Ah yes, Marie. I have a situation that would benefit from your expertise. I need someone to bring over a black cocktail dress for one of our guests for dinner with her uncle. Yes, black heels. A clutch. Also, send one of your girls for hair and makeup.” He says before he puts down the phone. You’re astonished and he claps his hands. “Now, let’s get you to the room and they will be here soon for you to get ready for dinner.” You nod, letting him escort you through the hotel and back to your room.

A knock on the door comes soon enough and a primly dress woman in a pencil skirt and a silk white blouse is at the door. “Hello!” She smiles brightly at you, her expression never changing when she sees your provocative dress. “My name’s Bridget.” She holds out her hand and you shake it.

“Yeah, hi. Barney said you’d be nice to me.”

Bridget blushes slightly at the mention of the hotel manager. “He’s very sweet.” You hum and she moves on. “What are your plans while you are in town?” You cross your arms over your chest nervously. “I’m gonna have dinner.”

She nods. “Then you need a cocktail dress. I’ve pulled a section of dresses that will be perfect. I’m sure that you’ll find something that your uncle will love.” There is a rack in the hall that is loaded down with dresses and she moves to bring it inside. Correctly guessing your size, she asks you to confirm it. Your eyes widen in amazement. “Yeah. How did you know that?”

Bridget smiles. “Well, that’s my job.” She replies easily, having to accurately guess women’s sizes all day long.

“Bridge?” You bite your lip. “He’s not really my uncle.” You confess.

“They never are, dear.” She assures you.

****

You tap your fingers on the bar in the lounge as you wait for Max, he’s late. You would order a drink but you’re terrified to do something wrong at dinner. To mess up the cutlery order that Mr. Thompson had so willingly taught you. You don’t notice Max enter the lounge until he’s nearly leaving again. You turn your head to look at him just as he meets your eyes and you smile, hoping he likes your new outfit.

Max is astonished. The transformation is nearly unbelievable. You look every inch the sophisticated woman with your cocktail dress, your hair and makeup styled elegantly. He smiles slightly, unable to believe that he gets to escort such a beautiful woman to dinner, despite it being a business transaction. Watching as you gather your clutch and walk over to meet him. “You’re late.” You tease and he is quick to reply.

“You’re stunning.” He means it, but you giggle slightly.

“You’re forgiven.

Max hums and turns to offer his arm like a gentleman. “Shall we go to dinner?”

****

“Mr. Morse. It’s great to meet you.” Max greets the older man, “great to meet you. This is my grandson. He’s a fireball. David.” He gestures to the younger man who seems embarrassed by his grandfather. Max introduces you as his friend and you shake both men’s hands. The chair is pulled out for you and you move to sit down until you decide to stand again. All three men stand and Max asks where you’re going.

“I’m going to the ladies room.” You tell him and he tells you where to go.

“Shall I order for you?” He asks and you immediately respond, “yeah” until you remember yourself. “Yes. Please do so.” You correct yourself and walk off to the bathroom.

Max can see every man’s eyes at the table on you. Proud of the choice he had made in bringing you here. “She’s charming, isn’t she?” He asks before the three of them order. When you come back, the first course is being served and David is talking to Max. “Mr. Lord, my grandfather believes the men who create a company should control its destiny.” You look down at the plate and then lean over towards Max.

“Where’s the salad?” You ask quietly.

Max turns his attention to you. “The salad comes at the end of the meal.”

You stare at the forks, trying to count the tines and the elder Morse leans in, “I never know which one to use.” He chuckles and you follow his lead when he picks up the toast with pâté. The next course is snails. “Escargot.” Max explains, “they’re a delicacy. Try them.”

You look at the tongs and frown, trying to figure it out until one flings across the room and the waiter catches it. “Slippery little suckers.” You joke “Happens all the time.” He tells you and you fluster.

The sorbet is next and the conversation heats up between the men. Max reveals that his father died recently and you bite your lip. You watch Max as he clenches his jaw, clearly used to getting what he wants but so is the younger Morse who stands up and leaves, followed by his grandfather. You look at Max who huffs, deciding to pour another glass of wine. Back in the hotel, you decide to admire the view and sit on the balcony. Max joins you a few moments later, rid of his jacket and tie. “I’m sorry about your dad.” You murmur and he sighs, rubbing his jaw.

“He died last month.” He tells you and you want to comfort him, to make him feel better. Something you haven’t felt in so long. “Haven’t talked to him in fourteen years.” He reveals, staring down at the whiskey in his hand. He hadn’t even attended the funeral, never wished to. He had meant what he said when he said that he never wanted to see the old bastard again.

You give him a small ‘oh’ and are silent for a minute. “We could just veg out.” You suggest and Max frowns as he looks up at you in confusion. “Sit around and watch tv.” You explain with a grin. “Lay like broccoli.” He snorts and shakes his head before drowning the rest of his drink. “I’ll be back.” He tells you, setting the glass down and walking to the penthouse door quietly.

You huff as he leaves and decide to veg out by yourself. You rub your eyes as the movie ends, Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant kissing and you glance over at the clock. It’s three in the morning. “Where the hell is he?” You mumble, standing up and wrapping the robe around yourself. You ask the bellboy where Max is and he escorts you through the lobby to the event room. The sounds of the piano echo through the room and a few men are listening him. You’re in awe. You walk over to him when he finishes, clapping softly. “I didn’t know you could play.” You say like you haven’t only known him for two days. “I don’t play in front of people I know.” He explains and you rub his shoulders.

“You should.” You murmur, leaning down to kiss his neck. His hand finds yours on his shoulder and he guides you around so you’re between his legs.

“Can you give us the room, fellas?” He asks and the men soon vacate the room. Your eyes meet his as his hands grab your waist, caressing it and your breath hitches at the way he looks at you.

There’s something about you. It’s thrilling and comforting all at the same time. He pushes you up, your ass hitting the keys and he doesn’t smirk like he normally would. Fingers reaching for your robe, and he slowly unties it to pull past and see what you are wearing under it. “Eyes on me.”

You fix your eyes on him, unable to disobey, and he runs his hands up your body, admiring the black silk you're wearing. He grabs your ass and lifts you up onto the top of the piano, your feet hitting the keys as he stands to settle between your legs. His lips seem to gravitate towards yours and you turn your head at the last second, knowing it's not a good idea to kiss him. You're already too involved. His lips find your neck and you whimper when he pushes the nightie up your body, exposing your panties. His nose runs along your stomach, pressing kisses on the skin, teasing you. "Max." You plead softly, needing to feel more.

“I’m going to eat you out.” He decides. “Right here in the lounge of the hotel.” He’s hard and throbbing, but right now, he wants to take you apart. Leaning down even more, his nose presses to your panties and he inhales your intoxicating scent. “When was the last time a man feasted on your cunt?”

You gasp at the way he presses his nose just against your clit. “A long time ago. Clients - they don’t - they don’t do that.” You admit, most just want to get straight to fucking you. It’s not romantic or drawn out. Usually they cum in less than a dozen thrusts and you take your money and go. He hooks his fingers in your panties, “I want to taste you.” He says and you whimper when he drags your underwear down and your ass hits the lacquer of the piano.

His ex-wife had bemoaned his oral skills, claiming that all the talent in his tongue was left in the board room. Not matter how many hours he had spent between her thighs, it was never right and he had eventually given up. However, he wants to see what you think of him. More than that, he just wants to give. Give you things that you haven’t had lately. Forget everything but the way you taste and sound. His fingers pull apart your lips and he groans at the sight of your clit before he leans forward and laps at it with his tongue.

God his tongue feels so good. You moan when he flicks your clit and his mouth covers you. His tongue sliding down to push inside of you and you pant, “Max.” You reach down to tangle your fingers in his air, intoxicated by him already.

He doesn’t think about what he is doing, just focusing on the way that you sound. Groaning into your flesh and squeezing your hips as he drags you closer to taste you more deeply.

It’s scandalous. Him eating you out on a piano in the middle of a hotel lounge and you moan as he takes his time. Most of the time, men only do this to make sure you’re wet enough but Max seems so eager to make you cum. You moan his name as he laps at you and you don’t know how he’s so good at this and unable to get a girlfriend. You moan again, lifting your leg onto his calf as he sucks on your clit. “Oh fuck.” You cry, getting so close already.

Your skin is so soft, fingers digging into the supple areas that he can grab. Dark eyes on your blissed out face as he drags you closer to the edge. Pulling away from your clit to run a figure eight around it with his tongue, he rasps out “cum” before he sucks it back into his mouth to pull on harshly.

You can’t deny him. Fuck, you can’t deny him anything. You moan his name as you rock your hips up towards his mouth and you fall apart on his tongue. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You cry out as you cum on his face.

It’s the best dessert that he’s ever had, tangy and thick when he moves his tongue down to lap up the fruits of his labor while you shake apart for him.

You pant as you look up at the ornate ceiling of the hotel. The intricate decor almost blurs as you stare at it and you run through fingers through his hair until you’re pushing him away when it becomes too much. “Fuck baby. So good.” You murmur, “there’s a condom in my robe if you want to.” You say, unsure if he wants to fuck you here or go upstairs.

He too worked up to take you upstairs. Digging into your robe to grab the condom, he surges to his feet and fumbles with his belt as he rushes to sink into you.

You sit up on your elbows as he rolls the condom down his length and you moan when he notches himself at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. “Fuck Max.” You moan, reaching for his hand when he pushes deep inside of you.

He moans your name quietly, his thighs bumping the keeps as he tries to get as deep as he possibly can. “Warp your legs around me,” he begs quietly. “Hold onto me.”

You nod, wrapping your legs around him and you shift to sit up, gripping his shoulders the new angle makes you gasp as he starts to move inside of you. “Oh God.” You pant as he curves just right inside of you like this. “Fuck me.” You demand, leaning down to kiss along his neck. Biting down on his ear lobe, “feel so big inside of me.” You murmur, meaning every word.

Max groans, aware that you probably tell every guy you’re with that, but he pretends you mean it. You’re kissing along his next and squeezing his cock with your tight little cunt, making him forget everything as he rocks into you. “Fuck.” He hisses softly. “So beautiful, so tight around me.” He praises.

You rock your hips up to meet his, your hands caressing his back as he pushes deep inside of you. “Fuck baby. Max. Feel so good.” You moan as your nails lightly scratch his back. “Want you to feel good after you made me feel so good.”

Max shudders, aware that anyone could walk in and watch him fucking you, but he doesn’t care. Or maybe it’s that he wishes they would. That they would see that he’s pleasuring such a beautiful woman. “You do, you do.” He pants out. “Feels so good.”

You keep him close, your legs wrapped around him as he pushes deep, slow but precise. “Max. God, that - that’s it.” You pant and he reaches down to rub your clit. You’re so close. Still worked up from your previous orgasm, it doesn’t take you long until you’re clamping down on his cock. Your cry echoing in the empty function room covered in gilded gold.

“That’s it, cum for me.” He hisses, loving the unrestrained way you cry out for him. Letting anyone nearby know that he is making you feel good. His throats turn sloppy, pace faltering as he starts to chase his own release. Groaning your name as he slaps his hips against your once more and presses deep, his body shaking as he empties himself into the condom.

You watch him as he cums, loving how tight his body gets. Jaw clenched and eyes fluttering shut as you get a glimpse into the one and only moment Maxwell Lord relaxes. “That’s it baby. So good.” You murmur, caressing his upper back as you continue to watch him.

When he pulls out of you carefully, his hands are pulling your robe closed so no one could see you even before he's slipping off the condom. Tying it in a knot and tossing it in a trashcan near the piano, he offers you his hand to help you down. "We should sleep." He murmurs, seeing how tired you are after your orgasm.

You nod, letting Max help you off of the piano with shaking legs and you’re soon back in the room. The same as the night before, you get ready for bed and he goes off to review a report, leaving you to fall asleep alone.

****

The next morning, you come out of the room to find Max reading the newspaper. “Good morning.” You greet him, leaning in to kiss his cheek and he hums a good morning to you. “What’s the plan for today?” You ask and he smiles at you, “shopping.” You groan, “no. I- I went yesterday and they were so mean to me.”

Max frowns and folds over his paper, “mean to you? What do you mean?” He demands, his frown deepening even more as you explain and he shakes his head. “Get dressed.” He decides. “I’m coming with you.”

****

He doesn’t let you pull your hand out of his. Dressed in your outfit you wore the night you met, your heels from last night and one of his dress shirts, you look sexy. The limo driver drops you off on Rodeo drive, he chooses one of the most expensive looking boutiques to walk into.

“Hello, how may we-“ the worker starts her spiel but Max just cuts her off.

“We are looking to spend an obscene amount of money.” He declares. “Very obscene. So we are looking to be sucked up to.” He smirks as he looks over at you and winks as he pulls out his Amex card and hands it to you. The one that has no limit.

“How obscene sir?” The manager asks greedily and Max smirks, “very. Make sure she gets what she wants.” He gestures over to you as you stand admiring the dresses shown to you. Max comes over and takes your hand, “I have a meeting to go to but I’ll see you later.” He says, kissing the back of your hand. You want to pout but instead you nod, letting him go. When he leaves, you try on more clothes than you’ve ever owned, pick out lingerie and nighties. You stare at the man holding a pair of shoes and you see his tie. “Max would love that.” You point to it and the a manager snaps his fingers, “your tie.” He demands and the man takes his tie off to hand it to you.

You leave the store dressed to the nines and you carry the bags as you make your way back to the store you went in the day before. “Hi, you refused to help me yesterday.” You say to the woman and she frowns until her eyes widen. “You work on commission?” You ask her and she nods. You hold up your bags, “big mistake. Big. Huge.” You tell them before you leave with a massive smirk on your face, unable to believe how on top of the world you feel as you make your way back to the hotel.

Max opens the door to the suite, briefcase in hand and expecting to find you opening dozens of boxes and bags from your shopping excursion. Instead, he finds you sitting at the table, wearing nothing but a tie and your heels. He smirks, setting down the case on the table and stepping closer to you. “That’s a nice tie.” He muses, admiring the way it sits between your tits.

You smirk at him as he walks in and freezes and you slowly uncross your legs, spreading them so he can see your cunt. “I got it for you today.” You coo, reaching down to squeeze your breast. “Thought it would look good on you.” You wink at him and slide your hand lower until you’re rubbing your clit, showing him how wet you are for him.

“Looks…expensive.” He banters and you shoot him a smirk.

“All yours for the low, low price of three thousand dollars.” You tease, reminding him and yourself of how much money he is paying you to stay with him. “Yes, a very expensive tie.” He strides forward and wraps his hand around the silk pinstripe tie, the back of his knuckles dragging over your breasts. “I think it might be my new favorite.”

You smirk up at him, “yeah? Maybe you can wear it tomorrow…after I’m done with it. Might have to take it off though if you want to fuck me hard…maybe fuck my ass?” You ask, biting your lip as you think of the lube you got from the pharmacy on the way back from shopping.

His eyes widen and he glances down at your beautiful cunt and then back at your face. “You want that?” He asks hoarsely, cock twitching. “I’ve never- no one has, um, wanted that. So I don’t know what you would want to get ready for me.”

You giggle at the way he seems flustered. Unused to seeing him like this when you know he’s so stoic in his business. You bite your lip as you lower your leg from the table and stand up to walk over to him. “I have lube. I have thought about this all afternoon so I have, uh, fingered myself open for you. Just need your gorgeous fingers to make sure I’m ready for you and then I have lube so you can fuck me. Want you to experience it with me.” You murmur, caressing his cheek as you stand naked before him bar the tie.

“On your back or your stomach?” He asks, cupping your tits immediately and squeezing them. “What is comfortable for you? What do you like? How did you imagine me fucking you?”

“On my back. I want to watch you.” You tell him as he pinches your nipples and you gasp out his name. “I want to watch your first time doing this.” You say and you pull a condom out from the flap at the back of the tie. “You ready, Mr. Lord?” You smirk, knowing you’ll be wet from him fucking you like this.

“Bedroom.” Max growls out, snatching the condom out of your hand and resisting the urge to grab the tie to drag you closer for a kiss. Reminding himself that he cannot kiss you, it was your one stipulation. He’s eager to experience this, to show you that he can learn new things. “Get your lube.”

You grab the bottle of lube from the side and you rush into the bedroom, loving how animalistic he is. You fling the tie off and throw it down on the chair as you lay down on the bed. “Get undressed Max.” You order, wanting to watch him strip out of his suit.

Max obeys your order, watching you as he starts to strip his suit off. Your greedy eyes make him feel desirable, wanted. It seems like you truly want him. He unpins his cuffs and slowly starts to unbutton his shirt. "Touch yourself." He orders. "Show me how you prepared yourself for me today."

You spread your legs, laying down to lift your ass into the air a little and you slide your fingers through your wet folds, gathering your arousal before you slide them lower to gently push into your ass, showing him how you’ve opened yourself up as you begin to work your fingers in and out.

“Oh fuck.” Max groans, eyes fixed on your ass as you start to finger yourself. “I should have been here for this.” He shrugs out of his shirt and works his belt open. “I would have jerked off.”

You moan at the thought, “you were busy working. Didn’t want to disturb you. You told me to never answer the phone and I assume that means making calls too.” You tell him and he pushes his pants down along with his briefs to expose his hard cock. “God, baby. Your cock is so gorgeous.” You murmur, “want your fingers first. Work me open a little more.” You say and reach for the lube you threw down on the bed.

“I can work you open more.” He promises, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it as he kneels on the bed. “Don’t want to hurt you. Want you to feel good. Can you cum from having your ass fucked, or is my pretty girl gonna rub her little clit while I fuck you?”

You whimper, “need to rub my clit to cum.” You tell him and he nods, shifting to kneel on the bed and he pulls your fingers from inside of you. “Lube baby.” He orders and you grab the bottle, squirting some onto his fingers so he can replace your digits with his own. When he does, your head tilts back at the stretch and you moan his name.

You’re gorgeous as he stretches you out on his fingers. Pushing deep inside a hole he had never expected to be in. Scissoring his fingers to work you more as you start to grind down on him, “you like that? Does it feel good?” He asks after long minutes working his fingers inside you.

“Feels good baby. Want you to feel good.” You murmur as he scissors his fingers to open you up and you watch him as he pumps his cock with his other hand. “Fuck me. Need you inside of me.” You demand as you reach for the lube.

Max pulls his finger out of you and rips open the condom with his teeth. Rolling it down his length and groaning when you smear the condom with the lube generously. “I hope you’re ready.” He hisses, “position me.”

You pant as you reach down to position him, heart pounding as he starts to push in and you watch his face as he pushes in. You’re intoxicated by the look of awe on his face as he pushes into you, slow but precise. “Feel good?” You ask him, wanting to enjoy this.

“Tighter.” He groans, unable to believe how your ring of muscles is squeezing his cock. He checks with you, “how- is it good? Slower? Faster? How do you enjoy it?” He doesn’t just want this to be for him. You are supposed to enjoy yourself too, at least that’s what he wants.

You close your eyes for a second before you open them. “Slow at first then you can speed up. I will enjoy it because it’s you, baby.” You promise, reaching up to caress his forearms as he starts to slowly rock into you. You want to see him wrecked from enjoying this new experience. You’re happy to give it to him.

“You’re so fucking incredible.” He groans as he starts to pull back. Keeping your words in mind as he keeps the pace slow. Enjoying the way your body quivers and tenses under him. “Rub your clit for me.” He orders, remembering how you said you needed to in order to cum. “Want you to cum too.”

You nod, reaching down to rub your clit as he starts to move inside of you. “That’s it baby. Move a little faster. Need you to fuck me like you want. That’s what I want.” You tell him with a moan, your hands caressing his.

He groans, picking up the pace slightly as he watches you rub your clit. It’s so interesting watching himself fuck your ass. Watching your cunt flutter around nothing and yet you are moaning and clearly enjoying yourself.

You moan as he rocks into you, pushing deeper and stretching you out. “So good baby. Oh God, so good.” You whimper as you rub your clit a little faster. “Keep going, Max. I’m gonna cum from it.” You tell him breathlessly.

He twitches inside you, gasping when you clamp down on him again and his next thrust isn’t as patient as the others. It’s more feral, unrestrained but then the next thrust is more like the others.

It’s your turn to gasp as he becomes more confident and pushes deep into you on the next thrust. “Yessss Max.” You moan, frantically rubbing your clit as he pushes into you again and again. You’re so close. The look on his face has your heart pounding and a couple of thrusts later, you’re clamping down around nothing as you squeeze him inside of your ass.

“Fuck, fuck!” Max hisses, unable to control himself as you start to cum. His thrusts turn frantic and he pushes deep as you squeeze him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” He cries out, feeling the pull in his groin and seconds later, he’s filling the condom with a moan of your name.

You watch him in rapture, loving the look on his face as he cums, filling the condom up. “God, that’s it baby.” You caress his arms as he leans down to kiss you but you turn your head, not wanting to break your rule despite really wanting to kiss him. “Good?” You ask him, wanting to know if he enjoyed it as much as you did.

Max nuzzles your cheek and kisses it softly. “Amazing.” He whispers softly, wishing he could kiss you. “Thank you.” He grips the base of the condom and pulls out of you gently. “Do you want to take a bath?”

You nod, needing to relax your muscles. It doesn’t take long for you to be wrapped around him in a bath, you grab the sponge to wash his chest and you kiss his neck. “What’s on for tomorrow?” You ask and he hums, caressing your arms, “polo match.” You nod, “I’ve never been to polo. What do I wear?” You ask,

“A nice day dress.” He hums. “Something flowy, a big hat to keep the sun off you.” You nod eagerly. “I have just the thing. It’s a cute dress with white polka dots, but it doesn’t have sleeves, is that okay?”

Max shrugs. “I don’t see why not.”

****

The next day, you and Max arrive at the polo grounds and you are immediately nervous and feel out of the place. Max seems to be in his element mixing with the upper crust and he leaves you with two sisters, going off to see his attorney. “So you’re the flavor of the week.” They giggle and you smirk, “oh no. I’m just using him for sex.” You stride off to find Max.

“Who is this girl? Where did she come from?” Max’s attorney is a nervous sort, who sees corporate spies behind every door.

“Phil, don’t worry about it, she’s not a spy.” He assures him, but the man is about to stroke out because you’ve found David Morse, or the man found you, and you’re petting his polo pony.

“See?” He hisses, grabbing Max’s arm.

“Tell me she’s not a spy!” Max sighs, knowing he can trust his lawyer of nearly fifteen years. “She’s a hooker.” He tells the man in confidence. Phil looks skeptical, but Max nods. “Picked her up on the Boulevard the night that you loaned me the car.” He huffs. “Think Morse has spies turning tricks? There’s nothing to worry about.” Your laughter catches his attention and he looks over to find you laughing with the horse nipping at your palm and he smiles, thinking you look beautiful. “Excuse me.”

Max comes over to you as you say goodbye to David and he wraps his arm around you and you watch as the upper crust go out to pat down the holes on the field as is tradition according to the announcer. You take the glass of champagne Max offers you until he tells you he wants to talk to someone and leaves you on your own. His attorney, Phil, approaches you, his wife off talking to the others, and Phil chuckles. “You know, you dress up nice.” He says and you turn to look at him, “thanks.” He reaches up to gently run his finger down your arm, “yeah. You clean up nice compared to what you must wear on the boulevard.” Your jaw drops slightly and you turn to look at him. “Maybe I’ll have to come and find you when Max is done with you.” He winks and walks off and you clench your jaw, biting back a retort. When Max comes over, you’re silent and you remain silent until you get back to the hotel.

****

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Max asks when you storm into the room, straight to the bedroom where you begin to gather the clothes he bought for you.

“You. Telling Phil that I’m a prostitute. He - he said you told him and I- I just thought you wouldn’t be telling everyone there what I am to you.” You spit, zipping up the garment bag.

Max huffs, pissed off at Phil for telling you. “He thought you were a corporate spy.” He snorts, still amused by that. “Was talking about running a background check on you. And you talking to David Morse didn’t help.” He hates that a thread of jealousy had ripped through him when you had been talking to the other handsome guy, annoyed that you might be more interested in him than Max.

“I just - I thought - I thought we would discuss what you told people before you announced to everyone that I’m a hooker.” You huff as you grab your things.

“You are a hooker.” Max says and your heart breaks. You thought you were- well, never mind.

You swallow the lump in your throat and you say, “I want to leave. Now.” You grab your purse and Max nods, grabbing his pocket book to throw the money down on the bed. You swallow harshly as he walks out the room and you don’t want his money. You storm through the hotel suite to the doors and you walk away from him, waiting for the elevator.

Max looks back into the bedroom and sees that you’ve left all the money on the bed, his heart aching at the thought of you leaving. His shoes are still off but he walks out of the suite and down the hall to where you are waiting for the elevator car. Pausing for a second when you won’t look at him. “I’m sorry that I told Phil.” He apologizes. “Will you please come back inside?”

You stare at the golden doors, clothes folded over your arms. They open a few seconds later with the bellboy standing there. “Please?” Max asks, his dark eyes wide as he stares at you pleadingly. You bite your lips as you look at him until you sigh, nodding. “Sorry.” You tell the bellboy and you step back towards Max.

He’s relieved that you are willing to come back to the room and he takes your bag and the clothes out of your arms to carry them for you. Biting his lip as he brings them back into the bedroom and the money is still on the bed.

You set the clothes down and your purse, crossing your arms as you wait for him to say something. “You didn’t take the money.” He says and you shake your head, “I don’t want it.” You confess, “it’s - it’s changed. This situation has changed.” You confess and he nods. You step closer to him, “are you…you think I should stay?”

“I do.” He confesses, reaching out and touching your shoulder. “I didn’t like it when you were talking to Morse.” He continues on. You look at him strangely, “we were just talking.” You remind him. “I didn’t like it.” He repeats, feeling almost possessive of you. Sure, he has purchased your time and use of your body, but he also wants your interest, your thoughts.

You turn towards him, cupping his cheek as he admits his jealousy. “Baby. I’m yours. Until I leave.” You tease, leaning in to kiss his chin. “But that won’t be tonight. I want…I want you to show me that you’re sorry.” You smirk, pushing down on his shoulders, “make me cum.” You smile at him as you work on the zipper of your dress, wanting to feel his tongue again.

****

In bed, you turn to face Max and he softly asks you how you ended up in L.A. You sigh, “I followed a boyfriend over here. He - he was a bum. I have always dated bums. One cheated on me. One went to jail. This one…I followed to L.A and he dumped me for some other girl. I refused to go home with my tail between my legs so I got whatever job I could. Even valeted cars for a bit. Then I couldn’t pay my rent. I met Kit and she told me how much she made…how easy it is. I- I decided to do it. No one plans on becoming a hooker but - I cried. The first time. I cried the entire time.” You confess, shifting a little closer to him.

Max frowns, his heart hurting for you, how you must have felt. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs softly, feeling compelled to tell you his story as well. “My ex constantly told me I wasn’t good enough. I didn’t make enough money or I wasn’t a good enough lover.” He snorts. “She paraded lovers through our home and tried to convince me it was my fault.”

“She was an idiot.” You scoff, reaching out to caress his chest. “You’re handsome. You’re funny. You’re smart as hell. You’re rich as fuck. Why would she say you’re not good enough? Pfft. She’s a goddamn fool.” You scoff and Max snorts, pulling you close but not saying a word. His heart thumping in his chest as he holds you close.

****

“What are we doing today?” You ask Max as you walk into the living room in your robe. He looks up from his reports. “Tonight, we are going to the opera.” Your eyes widen, “the opera?” He nods and you are nervous at the thought. “How am I going to understand anything they sing?” You ask and he smiles at you, “it transcends words. Languages.” You nod, “guess I better get another dress.”

****

Max adjusts his cufflinks as you exit the bedroom, wearing the red dress that you can barely breathe in but it’s worth it. It’s gorgeous and you’ve never felt so beautiful. “You like it?” You ask Max, wanting his approval.

“Hmmm.” Max shakes his head slightly. “It’s missing something.” He decides and pulls out a large jewelry box out of his jacket. He had stopped and picked it up on the way back to the hotel. “Now…” he opens it and snaps it back shut before you can see inside. “This is on loan. You can’t keep this.”

Your eyes widen and you giggle when he snaps the lid shut on your hand and you gasp when you see the necklace again. “Max…oh my God.” You are in awe of the jewelry and you look at it.

“Let’s get it on you.” Max says and you let him escort you over to the mirror. He fastens it on your neck and you touch it, “how much is this?” You ask and your eyes widen when he says a quarter of a million. “A quarter mil?” You gasp and he nods, “on loan.” You giggle and reach for your clutch as Max escorts you through the hotel where everyone looks at you in awe. “Everyone’s staring.” You murmur.

“Of course they are.” Max huffs, proud to have you on his arm. You are gorgeous and look fucking amazing in your dress. “Good evening, Mr. Lord.” The limo driver nods as he opens the door once you are out of the hotel. “The pilot is ready to take off as soon as you arrive.” Max smiles as he helps you into the car. “Good.”

Your eyes widen once more and you lean into his side, unable to say much as you are driven to a small airport and right up to a private jet. “Max?” You gasp as he escorts you up the steps and onto the plane. You didn’t know that this kind of life was real but it is and you’re in awe of the luxury Max lives in.

“I didn’t tell you?” He asks playfully as he guides you towards a seat and he nods when the stewardess asks if you would like champagne before take off. “The opera is in San Francisco.”

You grin, shaking your head in disbelief. “Is this my life?” You ask Max and he chuckles, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

****

When you arrive at the opera house, Max ushers you to your seats which happens to be a balcony. “You said you don’t like heights?” You ask him as you sit down in your seats. “I don’t.” Max says and you lean in closer, “then why did you get these?”

He chuckles, “because they are the best.” You playfully roll your eyes and he winks at you just as the opera is about to start. You grab the binoculars and try to figure them out. You flip them until Max chuckles and puts them the right way. “Thank you.” You smile and the music begins.

Max looks over at you during the first act and you are completely enthralled. Eyes fixed on the stage and you are twisting your program in your lap as you watch. He finds it almost more entertaining than the opera. Reaching for your hand, he picks it up and kisses the back of it as tears slip down your cheeks from the beauty of the story is conveyed through the emotion of the performance.

The opera ends and you swallow back the lump in your throat as you wipe your tears away. It was beautiful and moving and you’ve never been to anything like it. “Max.” You sigh when you get back to the hotel after a quiet flight back to L.A. “God, Max. That was incredible.” You sigh as you step out of your heels. “Thank you for taking me.” You tell him, reaching up to remove his tie.

Max smiles at you. “Did you enjoy yourself?” He asks, even though he knows you did. Happy that he could give you this experience, he reaches out and touches the loaned necklace. “Remove your dress, but leave the necklace on.”

You smirk, shaking your head at him. “Let’s play chess.” You say, wanting to keep him on his feet even if he’s paying for you. You grab a Diet Coke from the fridge and move over to the table where the chess board is c waiting for Max. “Come play with me.” You demand as Max watches you. He nods and comes over after removing his jacket and tie. “Take tomorrow off.” You say after he’s won a game and you’re on the next.

“What would I do?” He asks with a frown, knowing that he’s come to L.A. to work. To make this deal happen and make a lot of money.

You reach out to rub your foot against his ankle. “Nothing. Anything. Relax.” You tell him, knowing he takes no time to himself. “You could explore the city. Have lunch. Have sex.” You wink, wanting him to have a day to himself when all he does is work.

He purses his lips, about to tease you and remind you that you turned him down, but the idea is intriguing. “We’ll go on a picnic.” He decides. “I’ve not been on one in so long.”

“Let’s do that then.” You grin and stand up, slowly moving around the table to straddle him in his seat. “And for now…I want to show you how much I enjoyed the opera.” You lean in to kiss his neck and his hands find your waist, sliding up to unzip your dress. “Fuck me with this necklace on before we return it.” You murmur into his neck as you bite his ear.

****

You adjust your skirt as Max finishes getting dressed and after he’s ready, you take his hand as he guides you out of the hotel and into Beverly Hills where there’s nothing planned for once in Max’s life.

The two of you manage to find a deli who is willing to put together a picnic basket for the handsome sum Max slipped him. The charming wicker basket hangs from his hand and he feels lighter than he has in a long time. When you reach the park, you take off the stylish flats you are wearing and grin at him. “Take off your shoes.”

He snorts and looks down at the Italian loafers. “What?”

“Take off your shoes.” You tell him and he stares at you for a second before he follows your order. You lay out the blanket and you sit down as you grab the basket to open it. You eat and watch the people pass by until Max pulls a book out of his pocket. “Shakespeare?” You ask in curiosity.

“Of course.” Max huffs playfully, as if everyone should carry Shakespeare in their pocket. “What else would we read while drinking wine and laying in the grass?”

You giggle and listen to Max as he reads a sonnet, your head on his chest. Later that day, you go to a small diner and sit and eat at the bar, laughing at Max as he tells a story from his high school days. When you return to the hotel, you tell Max you’re going to go get ready for bed. You change into one of the silky nightgowns that Max bought you and you adjust your hair as you make your way back out into the bedroom. Max is leaning against the headboard, his eyes shut as he finally sleeps. You shift quietly to sit next to him, smiling. “He sleeps.” You murmur, leaning in to gently kiss his cheek, turning your head slightly to kiss his lips. You break your rule to give him a piece of yourself without him knowing you’ve broken your rule.

The next morning, Max apologizes to you about having to leave so early, rushing out of the hotel suite before you can even have breakfast together. He has a meeting with Mr. Morse that the rest of the board doesn’t know about, not even his lawyer. Wanting to talk to the old man one on one. Or with David too, but without the sharks to smell blood in the water.

You gather your things, packing your bag, and you wait for Max to return from his meeting. The doorbell rings and you answer the door, eyes widening when you see Max’s lawyer, Phil. “How are you?” You ask him and he storms in. You shut the door behind you and you watch him as he practically pulls his hair out, walking over to the bar to pour himself a scotch.

“How am I? I wish I knew. I used to know. Just like I used to know how Max was. But now, I think he’s with you.” He tells you, taking a sip of the scotch and staring at you. Max had completely undone all of his hard work, ruined his chances for making a boatload off this deal and it’s all because of you.

“Max will be back soon. Any minute he’ll be home.” You tell Phil who scoffs, “home? This isn’t your home. This is a hotel room and you aren’t the little woman. You’re a hooker.” Your stomach twists and you swallow down the urge to slap him and decide to sit down on the sofa instead. Phil follows, sitting down beside you, and he sets down the empty glass on the coffee table until he places his hand on your bare thigh.

“So how much is it? You must be good to have Max all tangled up. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that pussy.” Phil says as he slides his hand up higher and you gasp, grabbing his wrist to push him away. He growls and pounces on you, pushing you back into the sofa and you scream, trying to get out from under him. Phil reacts, slapping you across the face to get you to shut up but you scream out again, putting up a fight.

Max had been in a good mood as he let himself into the suite. Ready to tell you about the deal he had struck with Morse. He wasn’t going to dismantle the company anymore, he was going to invest and make sure that Morse enterprises build the ships they wanted to. When he sees Phil on top of you and you struggling, something snaps in him and he rushes over to drag the man off of you, spinning him around and punching him in the mouth. “What is the matter with you!”

“She’s a whore, man.” Phil growls and Max shakes his head, about to punch the man again. Max throws his briefcase down the hall "this is bullshit. Bullshit. I gave you ten years of my life!" Phil cries, throwing up his hands.

Max shakes his head again. “This is such bullshit. It's the kill you love not me. Get out of here. Get out!" He demands and Phil stumbles down the hall as Max slams the door. You sit on the sofa, nursing your sore cheek and Max immediately rushes to get you some ice. You hiss when he presses it to your cheek, covered in the napkin, and he looks ready to kill. “Are you okay?” He asks, despite knowing you’re not.

“I’m fine. I- I gotta go.” You choke out, knowing this moment just solidified your leaving.

“Don’t go.” Max murmurs, “come with me to New York.”

You shake your head, “I can’t go with you. It’s - it’s always going to be someone. Some guy who finds out what I am and wants something from me. You can’t beat everyone up.” You reach out to caress his cheek, wanting to cry but you remain strong.

“Stay here then. Stay and I’ll get you a condo. You can have a card to spend whatever you want if you see me when I come back here.”

You shake your head again. “That’s a mighty fine offer for a girl like me but I can’t take it. I want…I want more than just the castle. I want the prince. I want the fairytale.” You confess, eyes burning into his.

He nods and stands up, helping you up and you gather your things again. “Stay with me. One night. One more night. Not because I’m paying you but because I want you to.” He pleads softly and you sigh, “I can’t.”

You watch him as he takes the money and places it in your hand along with his card, stamped with gold. You lean in to kiss his cheek, “you have a lot of special gifts.”

Max chuckles, “my special gift is complicated relationships.” You smirk, reaching for his hand before you make your way to the elevator. Max watches you go and somehow you make it down to the lobby. You find Barney and tell him you’ve come to say goodbye. “Thank you for everything.” You murmur and lean in to kiss his cheek.

He smiles at you, “you’re welcome back whenever you wish, goodbye.” He reaches for your hand to kiss the back of it. “The hotel limo will take you wherever you wish to go.” He says and you nod, “stay cool.” You wink and make your way out of the hotel, knowing you’ll never return.

Max walks through the suite, touching the surfaces that you had touched. The table where he had you for breakfast instead of food. The bathtub you had laid in together. He already misses you. He can’t let you go. Picking up the telephone, he’s connected to the front desk. “Yes, Mr. Lord?” The voice on the other end says.

He bites his lip. “I need the limo and a dozen roses.” He orders.

You arrive back at your apartment and see Kit, telling her your decision to go to San Francisco to start again, to finish school. You pack your things, including your new clothes, and hand Kit some cash before she leaves because she says she can’t handle goodbyes. Your bus leaves soon and you’re about to go when you hear a horn honking. You go out on your rickety fire escape and you see the hotel limo approach, Max hanging out of the roof window and your eyes widen. Opera plays from the car and Max jumps out when the car stops. You lean over as he contemplates what to do when he looks up at the high fire escape and you giggle when he puts the flower stems into his mouth so he can climb up the stairs. “Don’t-” You don’t get to protest as he rushes up and you decide to meet him halfway, chest heaving as you face him. He comes to you, handing you the flowers. “Max?” You gasp and he stands before you.

“I can’t let you go. I - it’s more than this week. You- you’ve crawled under my skin. Into my heart. I don’t want to let you go, I want you to be mine.” He declares and your heart clenches.

“I love you Max.” You murmur, stepping closer to him and you cup his cheeks.

“So what happens after a prince climbs up the tower to rescue the princess?” He asks you breathlessly.

“She rescues him right back.” You grin and lean in to press your lips to his. He groans and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close and you melt into the kiss. You never imagined you’d be meeting the man you love by walking the boulevard. You thought you’d be down on your luck forever until a handsome man pulled up in a Lotus Esprit to change your life forever.

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