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thatlovelyhenryhoe · 3 years ago

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ISNXNDND OH MY GOD THAT WAS SO FUCKING AMAZING

The First Time of Many

Thomas x fem reader

Word count: 5.5k

Based on smut prompt request for Thomas + How does this make you feel? with inspiration from @little-moonbeam-666 (bestie you'll know after you read it)

You and Thomas had always had a harmless amount of flirting within your friendship. You thought he was cute, he thought you were cute, what's wrong with a nice reminder from a bud? Of course cute and attractive were entirely different words and that mutual attraction had made the flirting not so harmless after all. Your romantic feelings towards Thomas had waxed and waned, so you’d expected the same, but this time those feelings stuck around. What was thrilling is watching his feelings grow for you. Never had perfect timing existed in your life. Unfortunately, not even now.

Your last boyfriend had been a piece of shit that left you somewhat traumatized. It seemed that you were perpetually getting over him, like a wound that turns to a keloid. All the good memories had dried up and you were left with this ugly scar. So you weren’t getting over your ex, you were mending the pieces he broke inside of you.

If anything had helped your trust issues, it was Thomas’ friendship. He showed you there was still faith to be had on his side of the population. The world kept turning, and your life resumed, but some things were forever changed, including how you viewed Thomas. It was like having blinders taken off, and in your periphery lay the evidence of his character. Somehow you’d missed the incredible man he’d become, but not anymore. He was the brightest light, and you were struggling not to fall in love with him a little bit.

You’d only discovered that his feelings had developed similarly a couple weeks ago. When you both turned to kiss the other and nearly ended up concussed. It so happened that the two of you had been trying to gather the courage, had been hyped by their friends, had justified this in their head over and over. In a life without shitty ex boyfriends you’d have torn his clothes off that night. But in this life, you were taking things at a glacial pace.

This wasn’t to say you hadn’t made out viciously with heavy petting. You’d also cuddle up with limbs so intertwined where Thomas ended and you began was lost under the blanket. Physicality with him was healing. He would of course, despite his best efforts, get completely hard from your vicinity, which you really didn’t mind. At first he’d turn crimson, but now you laughed it off together.

“Just ignore me, I don’t want you to feel rushed. I can wait,” he assured.

“I know you respect me babe, but I worry that being ignored so much is going to cause permanent damage. Do you need to go to the bathroom for a few?” He’d growl in embarrassment, and maybe a bit of sexual frustration.

“No, I’m fine. Just watch the movie.”

“With the spear digging into my lower back?”

“Sorry!”

“Just adjust yourself. We both know you have a dick, this is silly,” you’d giggle. “Tommy -” You felt his cock jump against your back. “Christ, really?”

“Ughh ahhh,” he’d wail in mortification. “It’s just the nickname, I don’t know why!” You flipped over to tease him some more. Tilting your head close to his ear, you used a breathy, whiny voice.

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.” You were grinning like the Cheshire cat. He groaned and flipped onto his back.

“No,” he whined, screwing his eyes closed, trying to focus on something that didn’t arouse him.

“This is all very flattering y’know?” His scowl turned into a smile. You slide a hand onto his chest, under his button up shirt. The skin to skin contact makes his breath hitch. Rubbing up and down his chest, you search for his nipple, enthralled with eliciting reactions from him. Your index finger and thumb pinch the bud, then twist it back and forth. He accidentally lets out a moan, and you hum in appreciation. Taking a step further, you pull his nipple slightly as you twist it and at that point Thomas’ back is arching off the couch and a desperate whine rips from the back of his throat

“Are you really about to cream your pants right now?” you marvel. Thomas batts your hand away, grimacing again.

“I like you too much, it's not fair,” he grumbles.

“Well I like you too much too,” you whisper, punctuating with your tongue in his ear. Finding out exactly what Thomas preferred this way was some of the most fun you’d ever had. You could see the hardened nipple through the shirt and flicked it. His entire body tensed for a moment.

“Did you just cream your pants like a teenager?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I’m not far off though.”

“Good, because that would be really embarrassing. Ah!” you screeched as Thomas tickled you. He moved so he was kneeling over you, grinning deviously. When you raised your arms to defend yourself against his nimble fingers, he tickled your underarms and you shrieked. Trying to knock him off while you cackled, you bucked your hips, but he just fell forward. One arm held him up on the couch, the other resumed poking at your sides. It was the closest to a sexual position the two of you had ever been, but there was no fear reaction. Internally you were having a celebration that a man was holding himself over you and all you felt was happiness. That's what Thomas made you feel: joyful.

“You think I’m embarrassing?” he taunted fondly. “You look ridiculous,” and you probably did. Your chin tucked so he couldn’t tickle your neck, arms glued to your sides. At that point you could barely breathe through the laughter.

“Okay stop! Sto-” Before you could finish the word Thomas’ touch was gone. “What are you doing?” you giggled. His hands were held like the air like he’d been caught stealing.

“You said stop.” There's a brief sinking sensation at the reminder. Quickly, it was covered by the realization of how intensely Thomas prioritizes consent. You’d never had a man respect your body enough to rip his hands away after one syllable. Thomas was watching you closely, sat back on his heels.

Fiery arousal rips through you from cunt to throat. You’re more attracted to Thomas right now then you’ve maybe ever been. The feeling is momentarly off putting, before your mind catches up. How else will Thomas treat your body well? Whats sex like when you’re this respected? How will his intense empathy and attraction compute into love making? The intense hunger in your eyes may look like anger, so you sit up before he can overthink things.

“C’mere,” you coax, while curling your finger in a come hither motion. He sort of scoots towards you, unsure of how to arrange his body. To make things clear, you lay your head on the pillow propped against the arm of the couch, and spread your legs so he can lay between them. You kick the blanket on the floor and turn back towards him with a questioning gaze.

“Tommy.” That unfreezes him and he surges forward. He’s still oh so careful, not wanting to make the assumption that you’re comfortable with such an intimate position.

“I’m not going to break,” you complain, pulling him on top of you with his shirt. At first you take all his weight, before he gets his bearings and puts together a cognizant thought. Upon finally recognizing your enthusiasm, he kisses you with all the pent up passion you’d been hoping to feel. At first it's frantic, like he’s starving, but when he gets situated between your legs it slows way down.

This was the best way to spend an evening: low light, Thomas on top of you, apartment to yourselves. Your mouth fell open, feeling the kiss with your whole body. You undulated your torso subconsciously, your body looking for friction. Thomas moaned into the kiss with no reserve, a tentative hand coming to massage your thigh. His erection may not have been pressed against you, but you could still feel next to your leg. His hand gripped your thigh roughly, which you weren’t expecting. You mewled into the kiss, nodding so he knew not to treat you like glass. With his tongue in your mouth, he grabbed rougher still, pulling the leg into a bent position. Taking initiative, you wrapped your legs around his waist like your were fucking. That realigned things so his hard on was pressed against your cunt. Thomas' body responded to your legs repositioning, hips stuttering against you without his permission. He cringed and pulled away.

“I’m so -”

“Shh, it's okay.” You put a hand to his cheek and guided his face back down. Trying to reassure him that it was okay, you squeezed your legs where they rested. That only elicited another bout of uncontrollable thrusting. Thomas was grimacing so much that you stopped everything.

“This is supposed to be fun.”

“This is fun,” he insists.

“You’re beating yourself up about physiological responses that are out of your control. I’ll tell you if something is wrong. I don’t even care if you cum in your pants right now, just stop thinking and be with me.”

“I’m worried that my belt is going to hurt you.”

“Then take it off, Tommy.” He looks at you like he never thought of such a thing. You watch his hands work. If he didn’t understand how much you were enjoying yourself, you’d have to tell him.

“I love you fingers,” you confess. “How they look, I think about them alot.” It's such a strange thing to say that you’re suddenly very self-conscious, but Thomas is beaming when he throws his belt onto the floor.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praises, returning to his position. “I’m sorry I can’t be eloquent, my brain doesn’t work around you.” You bite your lip, endeared. Thomas brings his left hand to trace your features. His touch is so soft it makes you shiver in delight. When he gets to your lips, you open your mouth and Thomas puts two fingers on your tongue. You guide them down the back of your throat, focusing on ignoring your gag reflex. Thomas’ mouth falls open as he gazes in awe. Loving the attention, you take his hand out of your mouth entirely, tenderlying kiss the tips of his fingers, and suck everything back in in one go. It's obscene and Thomas makes this broken moaning sound while his hips twitch. You moan around his fingers, in return. You raise your hips to demonstrate that you’re into this too, into exploring each other’s bodies.

You release his hand and he brings it back to supporting his weight. The pressure of Thomas’ groin against yours is eliciting arousal so intense that it aches. All you had to do was take each other’s pants off and you’d both feel so good, feel some relief. The thought gave you a rush that made you break out in a sweat. Why don’t we have sex? Why not? I feel safe. I feel respected. I feel happy. I feel heard. I feel desired. What was missing? I feel sure. In this moment, there was no doubt. But what if the moment passed? Even trying to logic your way through this was brutal because in your absent mindedness, you’d started to rock against Thomas.

Sinking into his kiss, the way he squeezed your upper thigh, it was all too easy. Your panties were so so fucking uncomftorable, your pussy begging to be touched. Those fingers, those fucking fingers. You had had cock shorter. Thomas could keep his pants on and finish you with deep penetration. It was unfair. You let out a whine of frustration, heels pressing into his back.

“What is it, baby?” he cooed. He rubbed his erections against you, experimentally. The whine that ripped from your throat was even more desperate than the last, partially because the button of his jeans was particularly comfortable either. Heavy petting wasn’t enough, hand fulls of his shirt wasn’t enough, his spit in your mouth wasn’t enough. You need more.

“What do you want?” You couldn’t speak. You wanted to grab his hand and shove it in your sweatpants. But was that even enough? It had been however many minutes since you last thought about it and the desire to have sex with Thomas had only increased, not wavered. Not to mention, you were so worked up you wouldn’t need hardly any foreplay. Unsure where to start, you start with yourself. Your hands unbutton your shirt, then pull it off. You almost take off your bra too but look up at Thomas instead.

“Do you want to do it?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, reaching behind your back. You make a point to maintain eye contact as he removes it. Laying flat on your back is not the most flattering angle for your tits, but you try not to think about your body like a series of check boxes to please a partner. He dives down to suck your nipple into his mouth, and your legs fall from his waist. He kisses the breast tissue and leaves a hickey that you’ll admire in the morning. You try to focus on the sensation, but all you can think about is how his hips are besides yours, no longer slotted between. The hand teasing your breast would do so much better between your legs.

He can hear you panting, each wave of arousal is making you sweat and Thomas’ hair is already damp around the edges. He looks up from your chest, tenderly kissing your nipple. You’re trembling from all this unfulfilled desire.

“How’s that feeling?”

“It's good. There’s just something I like more.” You take a deep breath “I need, I need…” he’s looking at you, the absolute focus of all his attention. You let out another whine, chest heaving. This is your first time together, you don’t know how he receives requests. You squeeze your eyes shut, in case his expression is painful to see and steel yourself. “Please, just, please” You grab his hand and shove it downwards, eyes screwed shut. “Just please, please.” You guide his hand into your underwear, hips rolling up to meet it.

Thomas doesn’t tease, he inserts one finger right away. When he feels the ease it moves with, he uses two and buries them to the last knuckle. You actually shed a couple tears it's so satisfying, so deep. His hand is tilted up at the perfect angle. You don’t even realize that you have a vice grip on his wrist with both hands, keeping him in place. He pistons them in and out breakneck speed and you let out a wail, arching, rolling your hips in time. His thumb searches for your clit and while he doesn’t find it the sensation of the fingers against your vulva is still wonderful.

You’re fucking up into his fingers like a dildo, but more so. He’s warm, real, and so attentive. It's heavenly and you can’t believe you ever questioned this decision. He gets his fingers precisely in time with your hips and something unlocks, you can feel pressure building in your pelvis. You lay back, moaning and crying in pleasure, unabashed. Theres fucking and then theres being touched and this is the later.

“Baby, you can let go of my hand. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

“I wanna, I -” he finally brushes by your clit and you yelp, kicking the couch because you’re unable to contain the pleasure within the bounds of your body..

“Please tell me what you want.” Thomas is genuinely begging. “God you’re so wet.”

“I wanna cum. I can,” you emphasize. Some men didn’t bother because they didn’t think it was possible.

“Of course you can,” he gushed. “Can you push down your pants so I can see what I’m doing?” Finally you open your eyes, but still don’t have the courage to look at Thomas. Despite the anxiety it evoked, you let go of his wrist, pushing down your pants and underwear, then kicking them off. He repositioned himself so he was sitting between your thighs, with the ideal view. His thumb found your clit so quick, and there wasn’t enough to anchor you. The pressure inside you only heightened and you tried to control it, worried you were going to explode. Not yet, not yet, you chanted in your head.

“Three.” He pressed the third finger inside and you bore down on it with everything you could. The stretch of integrating it into your body was glorious. The sensitive walls of your vagina receive so much stimulation you could barely handle it. You could feel your orgasam building, so close you were almost choking on it.

You looked down at Thomas, giving you his all. And while his thumb rubbing circles on your clit may have driven you towards orgasam, seeing his hand in his pants as he looked between your legs was enough. It was like a wildfire inside you, creeping its way to the surface. That last ounce of stimulation was the gasoline and you could barely maintain control. It was so strong that you couldn’t open your closed eyes, but your hand searched for something to hold.

Thomas sacrificed his own orgasam to ground you, to be there while you convulsed with pleasure. Allowing someone to watch you orgasam hard, could be more intimate than the sex itself. It wasn’t pretty, but it was honest. You weren’t doing anything prefromative for him, in fact you were barely keeping a grasp on reality. When you finally released your white knuckle grip on his hand, the happy chemicals were still buzzing in your veins.

“Thank you,” you sighed, feeling more relaxed than you had in weeks. Although there was still that ball of pressure, throbbing in your groin.

“Any time. Like, any time. I’ll keep my ringer on at night.” You chuckled and he rubbed your thigh assuringly. All was well.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to finish.” You managed enough energy to tilt your head up so you could see his face.

“Oh I did,” he smirked.

“Oh, okay,” you couldn’t hide your disappointment, which wasn’t fair at all. “That's good. I was kinda hoping that you’d want to keep going, but it's okay.”

“Please give me literally 10 minutes.” You laughed, throwing a hand over your face. Despite what you’d like, your body was already responding to the idea of Thomas’ cock with full force.

“Your refractory period is 10 minutes?”

“Right now it is.” You removed your hand to look at him, blusinng from the orgasam as well. “I’m so serious, like I’ll go get you some water. I’ll get a washrag. I’ll literally be right back.” You’re belly laughing at this point.

“You don’t need to entertain me! I’m not about to lose interest in the next 10 minutes.”

“Ah, but that's part of the Thomas Raggi experience!”

“Is that like The Jimi Hendrix Experience but sexier?”

“Exactly!” He sings from the kitchen. “Why don’t you meet me in your bedroom, cara mia.” You get off the couch, barely balancing on your two legs, wobbling to the bedroom while he cleans up in the bathroom.

“Five minute warning! Take your clothes off,” you call, and can hear him cackling while you lounge on the bed. Your tone is confident, but internally you're insecure, debating whether you should even do a round two. It might be fine. He’s probably encountered it before, it's Thomas. On the other hand, it's Thomas, and you really don’t want to scare him away.

He walks into the bedroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist, looking good enough to eat. The towel is up around his waist instead of his hips. You can see that he’s totally erect underneath and all that unreleased desire throbs inside of you. His gaze is fixed between his legs. He wets his lips and you surely will not survive what he can do with both hands and a mouth.

“I’m gonna get a towel” you blurt, and scurry to the bathroom. You pee, splash cold water on your face, hoping it’ll relieve some of the pressure. It doesn’t work so you grab one of the thick, oversized towels kept on the top shelf exclusively for this purpose. Unfolding it as you walk into the room, Thomas’ eyes go wide, but he doesn’t say anything as you place it on the bed.

Proactively, you walk towards him, and sink to your knees. His hand seeks support from the bed before you’ve even dropped the towel. He’s at half mast after waiting for you, so you’re happy to put a little work in. However, little becomes the operative word. Less than a minute of the most devoted blow job you’ve given in your life, he stops you. You pause with him ¾ of the way down your throat, giving your best doe eyes.

“Woah michetta, michetta.” he takes a step back so his cock falls from your mouth. You don’t wipe away the trail of spit, instead staring at him from your knees.

“Holy shit,” he pants. “I’m hard, baby girl. Christ you're good with your mouth.” You can’t help but smile at the praise while Thomas sweats. He looks at you with so much adoration, stroking your cheeks with the back of his finger. He threads his hand up the base of your skull, massaging your scalp. When he reaches the top of your head, Thomas grabs a fistful of hair and gently pulls. Your lips part, so he pulls a bit harder and the moan you let out is sub-human. You’re so relaxed and aroused that you rest your head on his thigh. The musk of his groin is barely perceptible, but you enjoy it just the same.

“Baby, get on the bed,” he coos. All previous thought processes spontaneously disappear. He helps you up and before you’re even situated you’re grabbing at Thomas, pulling him on top of you clumsily. Your pussy is just raw heat, throbbing. You need him so desperately it feels like you’re anxious, like there’s a weight in your chest and you can’t breathe. Luckily, the question of a condom was mute, you’d both prepared for this.

“I should warm you up.” He was resting between your legs, the velvety head of his cock against your vulva.

“I’m plenty warm, you’ve already fingered me.” You tilted your hips so the tip was lined up with your vagina. His eyes fluttered, feeling it too.

“That was a while ago. You sure?” he whined, trying to retain some level of control. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and squeezed.

“Yes, I am fucking sure!” He made noise like he was being hurt and enjoyed it as he pushed in. A whimper with half formed words underneath. There were lines on his forehead and his upper body trembled. He was going slow, to make sure he wasn’t about to hit your cervix, but you reveled in the feeling of your walls parting to allow him in. You leaned up so your lips were by his ear.

“Do you feel how much my body wants you?” At that moment, the stretch kicks in and your heels are digging into his back while you groan. When he finally bottoms there is less than an ounce of composure between you. You can feel the skin of his abdomen moisten with sweat against your own. He lowers himself to his elbows and kisses you, but you don’t want kisses.

“Thomas, if you hold back right now, I will never fucking forgive you.” You feel him still completely, hear him swallow hard. The lines of musculature in his arms are visible as he flexes, before pulling out and slamming back in with so much intensity it moves you up the bed. You yelp, back arching, baring down on his cock. The ferocity of his thrusts leaves you calling out his praises, so the sound of your pleasure is discernible from pain.

“Yes! Thomas, yes! Ugh!”

“Louder,” he growls. He wants you to scream? Oh, you can scream.

“Uhh! Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy -”

“Shh!” He kisses you to shut you up, chucking at your enthusiasm. “Too loud!”

“Oops,” you snicker, nipping at his lip.

“Lucky I’m a musician, so you shouldn’t make much of a difference in my hearing loss.” You blush a bit, biting your gums self consciously. “Oh don’t get shy on me now,” he encourages. Thomas punctuates with a new pattern of thrusting, just a deep, but quicker and sustainable. It allows you to raise your hips to meet him at each pass. The first jolt of stimulation is incredible, and you assume it’s just one of those random collisions at a perfect angle, but it stays as intense.

Considering how easily he came earlier, you didn’t expect this level of stamina from Thomas. He's been pistoning into you cunt to the point that your eyes are rolling back into your head. He starts to grind down everytime your hips meet and you do the same in return. The fiction against your clit invokes the floaty feeling of an orgasam creeping up on you. The more prominent feeling however, is that ball of pressure in your abdomen, from the repeated stimulation of your g-spot.

In fact, that feeling has your head tossing back and forth with your eyes squeezed shut. Your hands aren’t even able to grasp Thomas anymore and fall from his biceps. The whines and moans you’ve been making throughout distort, higher pitched and more desperate. Your hips start to stutter as he did earlier, and while you’re on the edge of something, it's not orgasam, it's deeper, more primal. Normally you’d cover multiple positions, but you were so sexually pent up that, perhaps pathetically, missionary was enough.

He can see you on the cusp, and struggling. Thomas sits back and puts your legs over his shoulders. Before you can tell him that there's no way my body can do this, he leans forward and the muscles feel warm and comfortable in the stretch. You were putty under him, body craving to conform to whatever he asked.

The most intense climaxes come from the same kind of good stimulation over and over. You thought that this change in position would give you a chance to catch your breath, but it was the opposite. Thomas’ was thrusting at a harsh angle, so his cock was pressed up against the frontal wall, where your g-spot lay. This was the exact kind of friction that made your squirt. The surface of his pubic hair still brushed against your clit. So much sensation you didn’t have room to breathe.

Your insecurity was telling you to stop now, but absolutely every other fiber of your being compelled you to continue. It felt like the other way to survive was to go through. The pain, difficulty breathing, feeling so tightly wound that you were ready to snap. In all honesty, if Thomas stopped now you might die. The pleasure was that intense.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded.

“How does this make you feel?” he demanded. Your back arched and a couple tears fell. It was all you could do to whine. “How am I making you feel?” he insisted. It was perverse and so sexy. Tell me what my body is doing to yours.

“I feel like I need to cum,” you tremble.

“I want to help you finish baby,” he cooed.

“Not finish. Cum.” You hated the word using the word squirt, there was so much over-fetishization around it. This was deeply personal and intimate, not something preformative, not even something within your control.

“Babygirl, you’re safe. Let your body do what it wants.” Thomas’ face was so tender as he looked down on you. It was totally disarming that he was giving your pleasure all his attention.

“But sometimes I, I,” you trail off as he makes the angle my dynamic. Each pass the head of his cock rakes against a spot so perfect you tear up.

“It's okay. You can cum on me,” he purred. On. It was like a valve had turned inside you, behind which there was a wall of untapped desire. It all came rushing forth, and by the brain had caught up you were also ejaculating. It was messy, you were still rolling your hips in a desperate attempt for continued friction. Your release splashed onto your parted thighs and Thomas too, but somehow he didn’t falter. It was the ultimate surrender to sensation, but still your body wasn’t at ease. His attention to your clit had started the perpetual energy of orgasam. Now, so close, you felt like a live wire. Somehow, squirting had rendered you more receptive, and it took only a couple more passes against your clit to reach climax.

You fell back into darkness, almost losing consciousness for a moment. Your muscles were cramping viciously and you called out Thomas’ name like a prayer, or at least tried to. The discomfort turned to bout after bout of shining bliss. It was endlessly satiating and you wondered how long you’d needed to feel this. Luckily, you landed in your own body just in time to support Thomas through his own, hard earned, well deserved climax.

He collapsed on top of you, and instead of letting him struggle to support his weight mid-orgasam, you wrapped your arms around him. It was such a beautiful way to experience your partner cumming, embracing them with your whole body. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist too. You used the limited range of motion available to draw this moment out for him with little thrusts. He was hot and throbbing, too wracked with pleasure to support himself so you happily did it for him.

“You’re safe too,” you whispered. Each moan seemed to physically shake him. He was quivering from the intensity. You rocked back and forth to soothe, allowing him to cum and cum inside you. Receiving him was cathartic. It was a holistic experience: feeling his body shake, each contraction of abdomen, each twitch of cock, each rope of semen. You wished you could crawl into his brain to find out everything he liked in this moment, and give it all to him.

As Thomas came down, you could feel where the rush of fluid had moistened legs. Thomas likely had your ejacuate running towards his ankles, and his own semen was dripping out of your pussy. It was gross and absolutely perfect. You were covered in his sweat, but the presence of his pheromones made you feel complete rather than disgusted. Carnal satisfaction was echoing in your groin. The full body relaxation from squirting eclipses all other sensations.

“I can’t do that in front of most people,” you marveled.

“Really?” He lifted his head, shifting his weight so he could lay next to you. “How long since you’ve been able to let go like that?”

“I - months, definitely.” You’re trying to internalize every detail of his face, the way his eyes blink lazily. This is indisputably some of the best sex you’ve had.

“You said ‘on.’ How did you know?”

“I guess, it seemed like there was something you were holding back.” You nodded, moving the sweaty hair from his face. “I don’t know, I just really wanted you to relax and let your body do what it needed to. You put the towel down, so…”

“You know, that was just a safety precaution,” you confessed. “I thought I could control it and hold back.”

“Why the fuck would you do that?” He looked at you like it was ludicrous to deny yourself such a thing.

“Well, because” you splutter. “I didn’t want to scare you away, and some guys think it's gross and -” you sighed. “And it’s supposed to be like a tablespoon of cum, but I tend to be kind of a super soaker.” He bursts out laughing, hands on his stomach, eyes scrunched closed. With the ample rush of happy chemicals you start laughing too, hiding your face in his neck.

“Super soaker?” he snorts. “You’re not a squirt gun.” Still high on endorphins, you dissolve into giggles again at his word choice.

“Are you sure?” Thomas sits up and looks at the place your legs are intertwined.

“Holy…wow. What did that feel like?” There's no doubt the towel is soaked, but he’s taking the whole thing very well.

“It's like an orgasam, but more relaxing than pleasurable. It's also kind of animalistic, like total release.” He’s listening genuinely so intently, instead of filing all this away in his ego’s spank bank. “If I’m in the right headspace, I can feel like a feminine sex goddess.”

“How do I get you in that headspace?” Thomas responds so quickly he's almost interrupting you.

“I - I” am unaccustomed to anyone giving a fuck. “It’s something I have to do, not let myself get insecure.” His hand rubs your abdomen in a way that probably only feels sensual due to your level of attraction.

“But I can help, right?” Whenever he dips below your belly button, your train of thought is broken. Putting together a coherent sentence is taking much longer than it should.

“I mean, I kind of always feel confident with you.”

“That makes me so fucking happy.”

Notes: More Thomas is in the works! Again this is not poetic, but I think its pretty decent smut content. Just for funzees I tried to tune the eroticism so that your average vanilla Joe would enjoy it enough to be corrupted. Lemme know how that turned out. Also yes, I'm getting that pic of Thomas tattooed on both my ass cheeks thanks for asking.

Masterlist

@gr8rainbowpunk @homesicam @hiraetheral @l0standn0tf0und @iosonoarina @teenyweenynightghost @elvirabelle @8iunie @immrbrightsideeee @idyllicbutterfly @ilwiwbysmv @superchrystaldrug @girlnred @maneskinyakaar @thewitchinthemountain @theimpossiblehologramtree @maneslut (love the username) @iamtashaquinn @asianhawkeye @butkutee @weareoddlydrawn @blackberryblossom

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