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thegoldencook-blog · 1 year ago

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𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary You're having trouble sleeping and pot seems like the only solution. Good thing your dealer, Eddie Munson, knows of another method that he's willing to to teach you. You get more than you bargained for when he tells you what he gets off to every night - you. [8.8k]

warnings 18+ only smut, fem!reader, eddie teaches you how to masturbate, p in v sex, light praise kink, mutual pining/lusting, lots of kissing, dirty talk, weed ment, aftercare, they are not so secretly infatuated with one another, eddie is a soft dork but also dirty <3 r implied as dressing very femininely

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie kneels outside his trailer.

You stop at the lip of the grass and wonder what he's doing. His back is to you, covered by a band shirt familiar even from this angle and riddled with rips and moth holes. You're about to call out to him when he speaks.

"You're hot, huh, sweetheart?" Softer than you've ever heard him. "Why don't you go inside? Escape the heat, yeah?"

You approach slowly, footfall smothered by the lush green underfoot. He's scratching behind the ears of a tabby cat.

"It's so hot out! The sun's gonna cook you," he says, whisper-shouting.

Like the tabby can understand what he's saying it stands, stretches tall and then slinks off into the trailer. "Good girl," Eddie says, standing up.

"Are you collecting strays?" you ask lightly.

He turns to you, surprised but not scared. "Don't worry, you're still my favourite."

Good girl. His words ring loud between both ears. "I'm not a stray."

"Uh-huh. What's my shy girl want today?" You spin on your heel and Eddie starts laughing. "Sorry, I'm sorry! Come on, you'll like what I have!"

"You know I can't talk to you when you get like this," you tell him, pouting from over your shoulder.

He pushes a mess of black curls behind his ear and beckons you forward. "Come on," he says, sing-song. "Let daddy set you up."

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, following Eddie into his house unhappily.

You hate when he gets in this mood, not because he's ever really made you uncomfortable, but because you like to be teased, and he knows it. Or he likes watching you squirm. Either way, it's dangerous territory.

"How much did you want?" he asks.

The cool inside of his trailer is a blessing. You hold your naked arms away from your skin and try to take a deep breath of cool air. "I have thirty dollars. So… however much that is."

"Babe, what the fuck do you want so much for?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder at you incredulously.

You follow him into his room. "Do you not have it?" you ask, tracing posters you've seen upwards of ten times by now. Eddie's a good dealer – reliable, sweet, and prone to freebies without any pervy requests in place.

He once swapped you an eighth for a cheap charm bracelet. He wears it now, the silver delicate and entirely too sweet for his metalhead appearance. It looks good on him, anyhow.

He pulls open the usual lunchbox you hadn't noticed sitting on one of his amps and pulls out more pot than you've ever seen at one time. "Don't I?"

"Woah."

"Uh-huh. Ern't she preddy?" he asks in a drawing southern accent.

You hold out your hands and he lets you take it. When you open the zip lock bag, the smell isn't awful. The buds are thick with green fuzz, and your eyes water.

You pass it back to him. "How much can I have for thirty?"

"For you? Half."

"Don't do that, Eddie. Gimme what you'd give anyone else."

"But you're not anyone else, babe. You're my favourite customer."

"I'm gonna put you out of business," you say, lightly chiding. "Can I sit down?"

He hums and nods and you sit cross legged at the top of his bed. His bed sheets are pushed away and the space is cold. His pillow under your hand is colder.

Eddie doesn't bother weighing it. You roll your eyes at him but also feel amazingly happy, because it's a lot of pot for not a lot of money, because his favouritism speaks for what you hope might be a small crush. Still, when he passes you the new bag you feel guilty.

"Eddie, I can't take that. I know that's more than thirty."

His eyebrows jump. "I don't care. What's the point in doing this if I can't give pretty girls a little something extra?"

"I don't know. To make money?"

He holds out the bag. You don't take it. "Fine," he says, sighing.

"Thank you." You watch him fish three or four bigger buds out of the bag. He presents you with a much more reasonable amount, his hands stained with the smell. "Thank you," you say again.

"Yeah. Wanna stay and watch a movie?"

You've known Eddie since middle school. Classmates, not really friends, not not friends, though ever since you've started buying a small kinship has blossomed between you.

"What movie?"

"Whatever you want."

You nibble the inside of your lip. "You'll roll up for me?"

"Sure will."

So you end up on Eddie's couch with the tabby cat that isn't his purring heavily on your lap as he rolls a couple of joints for you. You won't smoke anything until tonight so Eddie drops them into your newly acquired ziplock bag with papers and the leftover bud.

He sniffs. "So, you're not sleeping?" he asks knowingly, straightening out with a groan and disappearing out of view into the kitchenette. You're a total overthinker. Pot helps you calm down.

"I'm sleeping."

"After toking up."

"There's…" You scratch the vibrating cat behind its ears, frowning to yourself. "Worse things to do."

"Better ones, though. Hey, do you want a drink?"

You say no and he brings you a glass of water anyways. His hands smell strongly of hand soap and faintly of weed as he passes it to you. You take it carefully, wary of disturbing your cuddle partner.

"Like what?" you ask.

"Cranking one out, for starters."

You wince, afraid to bring the lip of the glass to your mouth in case you choke on it. "Anything else?"

"Running?" Eddie suggests, sitting with you but leaving a more than comfortable gap between your legs.

"Not my thing," you murmur.

It's weird, but anything above murmuring feels like shouting in the calm of his home. The movie plays on the TV and the cat purs, Eddie spreads his legs out and slouches into the cushions, his face surrounded by dark hair. He smiles at you like he always does, amicable if slightly flirty.

"Maybe pot is your only option," he says mournfully. He pulls a lock of hair in front of his face and his eyebrows pinch together. "Make sure you brush your teeth after though. Or you'll get bad teeth."

"Bad teeth?"

"Smoking ruins your pearls."

You put down your glass of water and weave your fingers into the cat's rough fur. Eddie is really nice. Really really nice. And he probably likes you, so… what's the worst that could happen, by asking?

I'm only asking, you decide.

"Eddie," you say softly, disrupting a big tobacco rant that he'd started. "What- when you say cranking one out, that's-"

"You know." He holds his hand above his crotch and squeezes the air. You feel a terrible heat start to collect in your abdomen. "Five to one? Uh- Nulling the void?" He grasps for words at your lost expression. "Making soup?"

His voice goes high. You think he's as embarrassed as you are, and you're not gonna ask again. You giggle. "Oh, right."

He drops his hand heavy against the seat of his pants and leans back. "Crank one out and sleep like a log."

"That works for you?" you ask tentatively.

"Every night."

You sink down into the couch and hide your face in cat fur. Eddie starts asking about how your job is, a genuine, earnest interest that further cements your next decision. You clear your throat.

"Eddie, can I ask you something?" He grins and waves his hand. "When you," you wince, "'make soup', do you just- how do you…" You slink down so far you're almost falling off of the couch. "How do you make yourself-" You gesture to your pelvis and then screw your hand into a fist, self-conscious.

He blinks. "Finish?"

You look at the chain around his neck rather than his face. "Yeah."

"Are you asking me because you want to know how I do it, or because you don't know how to do it to yourself?"

You rub your cheek with your shoulder. "The second option."

"Shit," he mutters.

"Sorry, you don't have to- I just thought-"

Eddie sits up. He looks more serious than he had before but not any less patient, elbows braced on his knees and head propped up in his hand. He parts his fingers over his lips.

"You don't know how?" he asks.

"I must've missed that lesson in sex ed," you try to joke. It comes out awkward. Eddie laughs anyways, a huff of breath.

"Lucky you, I've sat through sex ed three times." He grins brilliantly, but his joking tone softens when he sees your hesitant expression. "If you wanna know, I'm happy to tell you."

"Are you sure?"

"We're friends, right? What are friends for?" You don't miss the sarcastic twist to his words or his ironic smile.

Friends like you and Eddie likely aren't meant to be giving one another lessons on masturbation. But really, he's the only person you know who you could ask and wouldn't feel totally looked down on. Eddie's nice to his core, but better – he doesn't judge.

You struggle to know what to ask.

The cat chooses this moment to wake and jump off of you, strutting out of the trailer's open door and back into the sunlight without so much as a grateful look back.

And now you're alone with him.

"How's your anatomy?" he asks. You shake your head slowly. "You know, grade wise? Are we passing? B? B-? C?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Munson."

"Do you know what's what?" he asks concisely.

You sit up and press your knees together, suddenly very aware of your 'anatomy'. "I think so."

He purses his lips for a few seconds before shrugging. "Alright. We can work with that." Eddie pushes his cheek into the couch and looks at your face unflinching as he says, "You know what your clit is?"

You cringe. Full body.

Eddie shrugs. "What? That's what it's called. You don't have to be embarrassed about it."

"I know what it is."

"And you can't make yourself-"

"No."

He doesn't miss your frustration. "Hey, hey, it's fine. Some people think that it's, like, a magic on-button, but it's not. There's a whole process."

"How do you know?" you ask genuinely.

His answering smile is wolfish. "I'm in a band, babe. Fucking a guitarist is like, a bucket list thing or some shit. Girls will tell you exactly what they want if you're willing to listen."

Something about his knowing look has your heart skipping a beat. Maybe two. He pushes his hand across the couch and you're not sure if it's on purpose or accident, only that he's leaning in, a small smile on his face.

"And I'm a damn good listener."

You meet his eyes and know what he's offering. He waits, ring heavy fingers splayed wide in the space between you. It's the sight of them – thick, long and adorned in string-wrought calluses – that tips you over the edge.

He's already pulling back with a reassuring smile on his face, lips parted to likely say something too nice when you interrupt him.

"Will you teach me?" you ask quietly.

A split-second of surprise is quickly overtaken by enthusiasm. "You're not high, are you?"

"No."

He gets up to close the door and starts for his room. You linger on the couch uselessly and he doubles back, hand on the wall. "Are you coming?"

The noise from the TV fades as you walk down the hall and into his room. Your socked foot nudges into a tower of books close to the door and you reach out to steady them. Eddie pulls the sheets back into place and flicks on the lamp. He pauses by the stereo before turning that on, too.

A song you don't recognise starts to play. Eddie climbs up onto his bed and stands there for a second, suddenly very tall. "You wanna take off your jacket?"

"It's a cardigan." You peel the thin white cotton off of your shoulders and shift from foot to foot, unsure of yourself.

Eddie settles on his knees, pulls off his rings. "It's pretty. Come here," he says, holding out his arms.

You slide onto the bed cautiously, naked calves rubbing against the sheets. You feel as though every sense has been dialled to eleven; you're thinking about every brush of fabric, every small sound that they make.

Eddie takes one of your hands and you sit with one leg crossed and the other hanging off the edge of the bed, surprised at his soft touch. He soothes your hand and brings it to his lap, eyes on your now-bared shoulders.

"You dress real pretty." He says it with his usual dramatics, though there's enough sincerity there to make you smile.

You look down at your delicate clothes thoughtfully. "You think so?"

"Mh-hm. It suits you," he says as he drums his thumbs against the back of your hand.

He pushes one palm up the length of your arm and pulls it towards him at the same time. You've never been touched like this before and you want it bad, shuffling towards him with a shameful speed. He takes it in stride, hand bumping up the hill of your shoulder. His index finger slides under the skinny strap of your top and tugs at it playfully.

"You look sweet. Really sweet," he says, his voice more hushed than before. His eyes drop to your thighs. "You'll have to take those off, though."

"My shirt too?" you ask weakly, eyebrows pinched up at the starts.

"Not if you don't want to." You hesitate. He takes your thigh into a big hand and gives you a small shake. "It's okay. Take your time. Or, if you changed your mind, that's totally cool."

"No, I haven't," you deny, voice trembling with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. You kick your legs out in front of you one at a time and ease your shorts over the slopes of your thighs and calves, pushing them off of his bed with your feet.

“If you change your mind at any point-“

“I’ll tell you,” you say, nodding as you pull your knees together.

Eddie manoeuvres so he’s close, twisted toward you with his hand braced by your thigh. The cold metal of the charm bracelet you'd swapped him bites into your skin. If you leaned back and he leaned forward, he could kiss you. You think maybe he has the same idea as his eyes dart to your lips.

They linger.

He blinks and it’s gone.

“I’m gonna rub your leg,” he says quietly, “and when I get to the inside, I’m gonna touch you. Okay?”

As he says it, his hand moves onto your thigh. Down to your knee.

Slowly, so slowly, back up. His fingers caress the inside of your thigh. He pauses.

“‘Kay,” you whisper.

His fingers flex over your flesh as he draws in. Then, like a shock, his fingertips press to your underwear.

“I’m not surprised,” he says steadily, fingers brushing over your cunt, ghosting but never truly touching where you want him to.

“By what?”

“That you wear such cute panties.” He strokes the hem with the tip of his finger and you hold your breath as he slides it under the elastic, running the fabric over his digit gently. “S’exactly the kind of thing I pictured you wearing.”

“You’ve pictured them?”

He looks up from his teasing and your panties snap into place. You gasp on instinct and his eyes narrow, his lashes kissing in the corners. “Does that bother you?” he murmurs.

You shake your head. His lips quirk up, a smugness that makes your heart race ever faster.

"Do you do anything like this with yourself?" he asks.

"I'm never this nice."

"That's a crime," he says, and he laughs loud, momentarily shattering the distilled atmosphere that had settled over you both. "Thighs like these and you don't touch them?"

"Is that what you do?" you ask, insecure.

"No, but it's different. I don't need to get warmed up like you do."

"Warmed up?" you whisper. Having to ask these questions feels so embarrassing.

Eddie being so soft about it makes it easier. "Relaxed," he whispers in turn, laughing towards the end.

His thumb rubs the elastic of your underwear and drifts slowly inward until he's pushing over your folds. You gasp and it's slightly startled, sounding too close to panic for Eddie, who's hand flinches away.

"Didn't like that?" he asks.

You rush, "It's okay. Surprised."

One big hand holds your thigh, the other strokes your cunt. He's a little firmer now, pushing the breadth of his thumb over your panties until he touches something very sensitive. "Here?" He pushes up a little higher and your breath catches. He makes an almost inaudible cooing sound and flattens his hand, rubbing the length of your cunt without finesse. It feels good anyway. It surprises you how much you like it.

He pinches your panties.

"Ready to take them off?" he asks.

"Yeah."

You lift your hips and peel your underwear down, folding your legs to pull them off of your ankles. You clutch them in your hand, unsure.

Eddie sits back and pulls you towards him. You let him manhandle you with a small gasp, his hands pressing into the soft of your tummy. You can't see his face anymore.

"Alright," he murmurs, pulling your thigh over his lap and spreading you wide. His voice is loud in your ear because of his proximity, and you resist the temptation to turn your face to his.

"Let's just-" he works your underwear out of your hand and tosses them aside.

His hand lands on your knee and moves down fast.

You lean back heavily into his chest with your hands pulled to your sternum.

"Eddie," you say, "what do I do?"

He hums. "Touch yourself."

You seize up and he's quick to soothe, fingers closing around the crook of your elbow.

"Hey, I'm gonna show you. I'm gonna show you," he repeats. He pulls at the lip of your cunt and spreads you open, groaning softly. You wouldn't hear it if his lips weren't so close to your face. "How'd you have a cunt this sweet and never touch it? I mean, fuck."

His fingertips whisper past your pubic hair like he's going to say something more, but he only asks, "Hand?"

You put your hand into his, the back to his palm.

He sets it to your thigh. "Do what I did before, okay? Slowly…" He drags your hand up and down the length of your thigh.

Your heart is racing. Every time you crawl close to your cunt the burning longing to be touched, to touch yourself, and to have him touch you intensifies.

Eventually he pulls your hand to your clit. "You're so sensitive. Is it always this bad?" he asks sympathetically when you jump, tickled at the feelin.

"I haven't tried in a while."

"Oh, I see." Eddie encourages you to push your fingertip into the bead of your clit, drawing slow circles. "Poor baby. Just desperate to have someone take care of you." His voice is so low, so ridiculously soft, you find yourself sinking into his hold. He squeezes the crook of your elbow with one hand, the other still guiding your ministrations. You bite your lip at the sensation that's begun, the tiny spark of pleasure.

"Here, let me-" He lifts your hand away from your clit and you whine involuntarily. "Shh, sweetheart, I'm only gonna give you something to work with."

You turn your head to him and watch as his mouth opens. He sucks the very tip of your finger between his lips, the heat of his tongue a momentary flash. When he pulls it back, your finger shines with his spit.

Your eyes are half-lidded, watching through the crush of your lashes as he presses it back to your clit. "How's that? S'that better?" he asks, crooning. His tone sports an underlying mockery, a light-hearted teasing that's slowly turning intense.

It is better. It's different. Your fingertip searches for purchase against the slick skin and struggles to find it, the wetness allowing for freer, faster movement.

You push a second finger against the first.

Eddie stops helping. You pause, confused.

"No, you got it, sweetheart. You keep going," he reassures, grabbing a hold of your thigh again. He teases the dough there, never cruel but maybe close, fat moulding under his fingers as he squeezes.

Your breathing builds with pleasure. Still, it's hot enough; there's no sign of an oncoming climax, no tightening coil in your tummy. You huff with exertion and frustration. "Eddie, it's not working."

"I'm not done." He sounds almost stern. Your stomach flips. "You have to think about what you want."

"What I want?"

"What turns you on."

You think of his hands and their rings. His happy trail.

His voice. Good girl.

You slam your eyes shut.

Eddie gives you another mean squeeze. "What do you think about, when you-"

You don't let him finish. "What do you think about?" you ask, too loud.

He stills. His nose pushes into your shoulder, his hair tickling your skin as he asks, "Are you sure you wanna know?"

Your breath catches. Your fingers stutter where they work into your clit and Eddie starts you right back up again. His lips brush your shoulder.

"Yes," you say, gasping as pleasure like little shocks of heat shoot to your core.

The hand at your elbow starts to rove, tickling your arm as he strokes downwards. "You first," he murmurs, teasing your wrist. You swear you can feel his smile against your shoulder.

You breathe in through your nose. "Uh, I think of- of somebody…" You try, but you just can't say it.

Eddie's fingers push down your crease. Stop right before your entrance. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah."

"Mmm…" He circles your entrance. "Now what does a pretty girl like you think of when she's touching herself?" You don't think he wants an answer. His middle finger brushes across the slick well and pushes in. You squirm and he holds you in place.

There's something very hard digging into your spine.

"Something sweet as you… Let me guess. Boy next door comes around to mow the lawn, you invite him in for a drink, one thing comes to another-" He pushes his finger in deeper. "And he's fucking you.

"That sound about right?"

You shake your head. His own perks up where it rests on your shoulder. "No? Huh."

Your circles have grown slow and staggered, distracted by his touch as he eases his ring finger in beside his middle. "Something more romantic? Wedding night, love of your life. Guy that's gonna treat you like a diamond. Way a girl like you deserves." He pushes in, stretches them out. You moan as he curls them, as his arm works back and forth. "Gives it to you gentle." His movements slow to match.

And sure, that sounds nice. But it's not what you think about.

"No," you manage to get out through shallow breaths.

"No? You don't want it gentle?"

"Not- not all the time."

"How about right now?"

"Please."

Slowly, slowly, the shape of Eddie's hard cock against your back starts to move in time with the thrusts of his hand. He pushes in deep, fingers searching emphatically for the sweet spot, the thing that's gonna make you-

"Fuck," you whimper.

His cock jumps. You feel it.

"You keep rubbing that pretty little clit of yours, sweetheart."

You do as he asks. You're desperate enough now that you imagine you'd do most anything he says, your climax a tangible, physical possibility. Your tummy feels heavy and aching with want, worse when he probes deeply and marks your sweet spot again. His lips press to your shoulder, soft enough that you worry you're imagining it.

"You see what I'm doing here? See what fingers I'm using?" he asks. You open your eyes reluctantly. His wrist turns. You watch his fingers sink into the gummy heat of your cunt. "Tight little hole's just pulling me in, fucking clinging to me, baby, she's greedy."

You gasp, a hiccup of scandalised sound.

"Want you to try, okay? You gonna do that for me?"

"Yeah, Eddie."

"Good girl." You moan, you don't mean to, but he's fucking into your quick and your finger pushes into your clit roughly. Eddie revels in it. "You like that? You like being called a good girl? I fucking knew it."

You frown and start to turn to him. He presses his cheek to your head so you can't, stuck looking down the length of the bed at your trembling legs.

"You looked so flustered, standing all sweet and quiet by the van out front with your thighs squeezed together. You think I didn't see that shit?"

You're limp against him, thighs spread wide as you work into your clit, chasing this new feeling. You can hardly breathe, every exhale a keening moan that has you shame-faced and weepy. You roll your hips to meet his fingers, his hand slapping against your cunt with a slick slap.

"You looked so sweet. Y'always do." He turns his lips to your ear and curls into you until your squealing. "Guess looks can be deceiving."

You're so close, so close. Tendrils of heat curl heavily at your core. "Eddie, I'm- I'm-"

"You wanna cum?"

"Yes," you pant.

He pulls his fingers from your cunt and you're so confused that you stop, your climax slipping away in seconds.

"Sorry, but you have to do it yourself. This is all pointless if you can't get there on your own," he says.

Your chest heaves. "That's mean. You're mean."

"I never claimed otherwise. Here, middle and marriage, babe." He guides your hand to your entrance. You push your fingers inside, your tongue between your lips in concentration. Your fingers aren't as thick as his, they don't feel quite the same, but Eddie pushes your thumb into your clit. "Move your wrist. Feel that? Feel how soft you are? How fucking warm you are?"

You're not nearly as good as he was but every clumsy touch feels electric. You push your thumb into sweeping circles and pant your frustration aloud, feeling close to tears.

"You wanna know what I think about, when I jerk off?" he asks unexpectedly.

You nod, your head moving back into his collar. He rubs the lengths of your arms leisurely, his lazy demeanour in total juxtaposition to your desperation.

"There's this girl that comes to see me," he starts, coloured by a smug amusement. "Sweet thing, soft-spoken, always wearing these pretty clothes looking like something straight out of the movies.

"I think about a lot of things. Her thighs-" One of his hands falls to your thigh in time, massaging, "fuck, just wanna bury my face in them and never come out. Pull down those cotton shorts she's so partial to with the dainty stitching and-" He laughs and his lips part over your shoulder. His teeth scratch up, up, up. "Make her fucking cry my name. Feel those thighs tense up around me."

You're so close your entire body shudders. You slow without meaning to, holding your breath in wait for Eddie to finish his story

He gives you one final push. "Always wondered if she sounds as pretty as she looks when she cums." He kisses the small graze he'd given you mere seconds ago and everything is blue-white with heat. "Gonna clue me in, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me?"

Your eyes close hard and you breathe out, an exhale ragged and weak and mewling. You don't moan so much as sob without tears, tensing up in Eddie's arms as bliss blooms. You pull your hand from your sopping cunt and feel your walls contract around nothing as you cum.

He pulls you close, throbbing cock pressing hard into your back. "Fuck," he hisses, hands placating where they lay.

You go lax, head tipping back as you suck in air that had felt elusive moments ago.

Eddie rubs your arms without saying anything. You cover his hands and try to summon up words.

"Just as pretty as you look," he murmurs.

He's so fuckng nice. So fucking nice, and what? He thinks about you when he jacks off? Since when?

You sit up and drop your chin to your chest, panting still.

"You okay?"

After a few seconds you smile and turn to him, intent on saying, Yes, thank you, and maybe something with more gratitude, something silly, just something. But you can't speak.

His face is close.

Eddie brings a hand to the slope of your rising shoulder, follows a line to the curve of your neck. You look to his eyes and find him staring at your lips unabashedly.

He pulls you into him. You close your eyes.

Eddie Munson tastes like lots of things as he kisses you.

Cigarettes, unavoidable. Under that, sugar. Something sweet but heavy as bourbon vanilla. Your lips part and close in tandem with his, slow and hungry. Your heart races and your fingers are still wet as you twist in his arms and take his face into your hands.

You climb up onto your knees and Eddie doesn't know what to do with you.

He smiles so hard he has to pull away. Not smirking, smiling, a cheek-aching, too-happy smile that softens everything in your chest.

You rub a shaking thumb over his cheek. You don't know if it's because of the post-orgasm rush of hormones or because he just kissed you and now he's smiling like he might do it again.

He does. He kisses you and grabs your waist. His fingers mess with the hem of your shirt and he breaks the kiss short to say, "Take it off?"

You sit back on your knees, feel the mess of wet between your legs spread as you grab at the edge of your shirt and pull it up. Eddie helps though he doesn't need to, and just like that you're shirtless.

"Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening," he says, voice weak in what you suspect is one of his dramatics.

He slides his hands up your sides and stops just below your breasts. His thumbs grace the undersides and his brow puckers. "Fuck," he mouths appreciatively.

You flush head to toe. "Yours, too?" you ask gently.

Eddie reaches back to pull off his shirt. His hair's in total disarray and he runs his hands through it, biceps flexing with the movement, torso taut. The black ink of his tattoos move with him and your eyes eat up every single one.

He catches your eyes where they linger on the volley of bats. "You like that one?"

"I've always liked that one."

He grins and it's honey thick, hands at the small of your back and tugging. You spread your knees wide on impulse and find yourself flush to his chest, his arms locking you into place as he dives in for another kiss. Again you're surprised at how deeply he kisses you, how it ebbs and flows from slow to fast like he's both savouring and gorging himself on your closeness.

You've never been kissed like this. You're weightless. You feel every contiguity between you, the hot and wet of his mouth, the crook of his elbow against the nape of your neck, your nipples peaked against his chest and the length of his dick pushing up into your aching cunt.

"Fucking pretty," he says, pulling back just enough to kiss the corner of your mouth, your chin. He kisses your jaw over and over and over, lips pulling into crescents and then the same word. Pretty.

His mouth opens wide at your throat, teeth scratching lightly as it closes. He sucks your skin between his lips and rolls it, hand spreading wide and palm flat at your shoulder blade. Steadying. .

"That's cute," he says when he pulls away, lips shining.

"What?" you ask, hand drifting up. You poke at the quick-forming contusion.

He nudges it aside with his face as he moves in to further mark up your neck. "You're so fucking pretty," he says, each word separated by a nipping kiss.

His hands are everywhere.

Everything is warm and you can't breathe. You plant your hands at his shoulders and push away from him, and he stops you from falling flat on your back, levelling you with a worried glance.

"Is it too much?" he asks.

"No, I'm just hot. Really hot." You take a big breath and wipe your face with the back of both hands.

"That's true," he says, leaning back against the wall. His hands fall to your thighs. "Are you okay?"

You drop your hands abruptly and can't believe the fondness you're feeling. "You're pretty, too," you tell him. Honest if very shy; meek, entirely sincere. "I'm okay. I want…"

"You want?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I have this fantasy," you begin.

Eddie widens your legs to move from under them. It doesn't surprise you when he comes to lie on your chest, holding his weight off of you with an arm at the side of your ribs. His hair falls and hides the room from view. All you can see is his face, and it's beautiful.

"Tell me about it."

"It's- okay. It's…" You drift off as he dips down to kiss your collar, only chaste pecks but enough to distract you. "It's kind of like this."

"Yeah?" His breath warms your chest. More ditzy kisses.

"I get here and you're coming out of the shower-"

"Tasteful."

"With a towel low on your hips," you add pointedly. It's useless, his sarcasm has pinned you spot on. "And you- you touch me."

Eddie kitten licks the skin he's just nibbled and looks up. "Like this?"

"Like this."

"And after that," his hand moves between you to the zipper of his jeans, the sound of metal clicking metal ringing through the room, "what do I do?"

"You push me down into the bed, and-" You feel the fabric of his jeans rub your thighs as he pulls them down. "You…"

"What do I do, sweetheart?"

"You push my legs up and you fuck me," you confess.

He scrambles back towards his nightstand, a hand on your ankle that says, I'm not going far. "How do I fuck you? Am I rough?"

"Not at first."

There, in his hands, the red plastic of a condom wrapper, bright as a maraschino cherry. He holds it up and you nod.

"Not at first," he murmurs, ripping open the condom, hissing as he pulls it over his weeping cock. It's big – not too thick, but big, surrounded by a thatch of dark curls trimmed neat. "But eventually?"

He rolls it on tight and then there's nothing but this admission of your guiltiest fantasy. You spread your legs without thinking and he pulls you towards him, thumb collecting slick where it's pooled and pushing it up towards your entrance. What's left on his fingers he smears over the length of his shaft. You watch him rub at the head and sigh.

"Eventually," you agree.

His cock rubs up against you as he leans down and pinches your chin between his fingers, lips parted from a sharp gasp and opening further. "Can I fuck you? Is that what you want?"

You nod voraciously.

He gives you a very firm kiss at the highest point of your cheek. "In words."

"Yes, you can fuck me. That's what I want," you say without hesitation.

"You tell me if I do something you don't like," he says, lining up.

"I will," you say earnestly.

Eddie pushes your leg up towards your tummy and holds it there. "Good girl," he praises, and pushes in.

You're already worked open by his hand, your own hand and your climax, and still it's a snug fit. You cross your arm over your chest with your lips bitten hard to stop from making what you anticipate to be a very great and mortifying sound. He takes it slow, real slow, towering over you with his brows furrowed just slightly and his back arching. Every move he makes is accompanied by a careful thrust of his hips. He's rhythm in motion.

"Fuck," he mutters, more than once. He's halfway when you feel that stretch, your pulpy walls accommodating him with little complaint and a lot of pleasure.

You drop your head back against the bed sheets and hug yourself.

Eddie reaches for your hand where its cracking your breast absentmindedly and squeezes your fingers. "How's that?" he asks. "How's that feel?"

You close your eyes. "S'good, Eddie." You lay out your own roll of expletives as he pushes in ever deeper. "You're really- oh," you gasp, "really deep."

"You should see it, babe, pretty pussy gripping my every fucking inch." He leans down and his cock fills another inch of you. Your fingers ache with how hard he's squeezing them, and you look up to find his eyes on yours. "I'm gonna fill you up, okay? You gonna be a good girl for me and take it?"

You blink and your lashes feel heavy with tears. "Yeah. I can take it. I can take it."

"I know," he says, hovering over you, close enough to hug if you wanted to.

He grabs your side and his thumb pushes into the soft swell of your breast, his grip tightening as he fits those last inches of his cock inside you. You rub your cheek against his bedsheets, your head fuzzy from being so full. He takes your bared neck as an opportunity and ducks into the juncture of it and his face fits there like it was made to, his nose bobbing against the column of your throat as he starts to fuck into you. His hips roll, a mess of his sticky pubes kissing your clit.

This close you can smell him, the heavy scents of pot and smoke, the sweet nutty smell of oil clinging to his hair. Sweat, as you imagine you smell of too, and sex. The room is filled with it, the smells and the sounds of his thighs thudding into yours.

"Eddie- Eddie," you whimper, muffled by the sheets beneath you.

He pushes in deep and rubs his nose into your skin emphatically. "What's wrong, hm? What's got you all wound up?"

You wrap your arms around his back. You're not sure if you're allowed to but you're hardly thinking ahead – you can't. Every thrust, every movement he makes is at the forefront of your mind, commanding all of your attention. The tickling of his hair against the side of your face. The skipping of the chains of his necklace where it teases your neck.

"Babe?" he asks, pulling back to turn your head. He stills inside you.

You protest, loud and completely unlike yourself. "Eddie, don't stop. Please don't." Your hands push into his shoulder blades. He ruts in at your request, thumb rubbing your cheek. "Feels so good," you say. You trip over your praise, voice breaking.

He starts up again, whispering, "Do you want me to hold your leg up, pretty girl?" and, "Taking me so well- taking it so fucking well," and, worse, "Fuck, sweetheart, just like that," when you tigthen around him.

You weave your fingers into the messy crush of black curls surrounding his face, careful not to tug as you covet the back of his head and nape of his neck, scratching his scalp lightly with one hand as the other strokes his side.

Your moans become a half-sobbing sort of mess, quiet and desperate, drawn out of you with every tap of his cock into your soft spot. When he finds it he can't not search for it, rutting into it over and over until you can't produce anything but an unintelligible stream of babble and happy sighs.

He laps lazily at your neck, the stretch of skin dampened and stinging from love bites. He thrusts in hard and hits something sweet that has you clinging to him.

"You smell good," he says into your skin.

Your hips ache with pleasure. "I must taste pretty good," you say. What, with how he's willing to nibble on you like this.

He squeezes your neck and narrows his eyes at you playfully. "I intend to find out." He moves down until your lips are a hair's width from touching. "Bet you taste as sweet as everything else."

You lift your chin and kiss him, dedicating your affections to his top lip. He groans into your mouth, hips moving slow and thrusts shallow when suddenly they're not. His cock drags out slowly and slams in deep, his pelvis hitting into yours.

You keen into the kiss, gentle and at odds with his fucking. His fingers find your ear and his thumb follows down the shell until he's pinching your earlobe, a split-second touch that melts you into putty. He pulls away from the kiss and inhales loudly, his fingers under your ear and pushing your face to the side so that he can wade in from a new angle.

You curl your fingers around his wrist and let yourself be kissed and fucked and touched. Anything he wants to do, he can do.

Eddie breaks the kiss.

"What did I taste like?" you ask breathlessly.

He traces an invisible teardrop down your cheek with the back of his pinky finger. "Oh, sweetheart," he says quietly, lowering his lips to the shell of your ear. "That's not where I meant."

Another hard thrust. You gasp at the dull aching spreading through your tummy and Eddie softens slightly, not so deep but just as fast, faster, his cheek to your cheek as he works you open. His rugged panting in your ear is everything you need. You force your hand between your body and Eddie's and search for the wet mess of your clit, chasing quick circles into the swollen bump.

Eddie realises what's happening and his fucking turns desperate. "You gonna cum again? Shit- keep touching, I'll get you there, fucking promise you." He's hardly pulling out an inch before he's rutting back in, kicking up the speed until all you can feel is pleasure again.

Eddie slows down as you cum, moaning as you tighten around him. He pushes away from you to kneel between your legs again, eyes locking onto your cunt obstinately, his panting loud as he drags his cock in and out.

"Insane," he mumbles, hands coasting down your legs until he's grasping the fat of your thighs and pulling you back onto his cock. "You're insane."

As if proving it, his hands rove the hills and troughs of your torso, your skin clammy underhand, his hips moving mindlessly. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand and blink back into focus.

"Are you close?" you ask him, whispering.

You're lucky he can hear you with the music he's playing and the sounds of your slick hole being stretched. Eddie tucks a lock of sweat-dark hair behind his ear and his eyes pause in their reverential searching to meet yours.

He peels your hand off of your mouth and holds it.

"Fucking teetering, babe. Been close ever since I felt you wrapped around my fingers." He pulls your hand and you take it as a cue to try and sit up. Eddie helps you into his lap, your thighs straddling his thighs, slipping down his length until you're stuffed to bursting.

You hide your face in his shoulder and he rubs your back. "You're okay," he says sympathetically, "I got you. You just sit pretty, there's a good girl."

You wrap your arms around his neck and try your best to bounce on his cock as he thrust up into you, a steady pace that turns sloppy. You rake your hands through his curls and kiss at the curve of his neck down to the slope of his shoulder, dizzied and cock-drunk, totally fucked out. You hum into your kisses with every prodding of his mushroom tip against your deepest spot, rambling nonsense at him in a way you hope is making a difference.

"Fucking me so good," you mumble, equal parts tearful and euphoric, lips wet and spreading a shine like frost in the sun over his lean shoulder. "So good, Eddie. Thought about this too much."

"Yeah?" he asks, sounding like a different person. Voice rough as hewn stone and hands bruising where they grip you, his heavy sack slapping into you with every sluggish rock of his hips. "Good as you pictured? M'I fucking you like you wanted?"

"Better," you say sincerely.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he says, and he's close, you know he is.

You roll your pelvis in circles and try your hardest, aflame as you plead, "Cum for me, please? Please, Eddie, wanna feel it."

Despite your shy intonation Eddie goes rigid. He fucks in with one final thrust that sends shocks deep to your core and spreading out, cutting your happy little gasp short as he pulls your head tight to his neck. His hips twitch underneath you and he's making sounds that are going to haunt you, whiney, begging moans over your head.

Eddie's tight hold on you slowly loosens. You're breathing fast, finally out of motion. Your thighs burn where they're spread over his lap and you squirm unintentionally.

He pulls your neck back from his shoulder and looks over your face, concern lining the soft set of his eyes. He cups your cheek in question.

"I'm okay," you say softly. "I'm more than okay. That was amazing."

"It was amazing," he agrees, caught off guard.

"Yeah."

You shift backwards and the two of you wince at the sensitivity. You ease your legs open and Eddie pulls out, pumping the sticky shaft once. His eyes flutter closed.

You move off of his lap and turn to the side so you can stretch out your aching legs. Eddie follows suit, collapsing off of his knees and onto his back, the pillow behind him keeping him propped up.

You watch him ease the condom off of his cock curiously, White cum has smeared and drips down the length of him, his pubes tangled by a mixture of your slick and his.

He spots you watching and smiles. "What, sweetness? What are you thinking about?"

"I made you cum."

His eyebrows jump but quickly smooth. "I think I went blind, for a second."

You giggle at his hyperbole and he pulls you down against his chest, your side pressing into his navel. Your cheek to the space shy of his heart.

His hand comes to rest on your forehead.

"Do you really think about me?" you ask, knowing the answer.

"Every night."

You close your eyes and hide your smile in his skin. He chuckles and wraps you up in one arm, his hand a firm pressure as he massage the dipped plane of your back.

Nestling your cheek into his chest, you say, "I think about it, too. All the time."

"Uh-huh. Maybe we can make some more of those racy thoughts a reality. What was that one about me coming out of the shower?"

You like this casual conversation and decide to try and make him laugh, stretching your words out low. "Well, you're coming out of the shower, and your towel slips open-" There, his bumping laughter at your over the top salaciousness.

"That's awful. Most cliche, overdone, cheap porno concept ever," he chastens.

"I never said I was creative."

"What happens after that?"

"The towel gets swept away by a sudden gust of wind, so I have to cover you. With my body."

He bursts. There's no other word to describe it, his back arches with the force of his laughter and he holds his fist to his mouth, shaking and giggling like an idiot.

"Where's the wind coming from?" he questions incredulously.

"I don't know! The window?"

"Oh my god," he says. He hooks his hand under your arm and pulls you up his chest, dotting a fond kiss to your forehead as you near. "And after that?"

"Well, I told you that part."

"Right, we hook up, but after that."

You clench your fists, insecure. "After?"

He brings the hand that isn't loving the length of your back to your face, stroking the skin under your chin with the backs of his index and middle finger, the flat of his fingernails sliding gently in a soothing back and forth.

"I guess it's kind of like this," you answer eventually.

"Does fantasy Eddie get another kiss, too? Or does he- do they stop, afterwards?"

"It's a fantasy. The kisses never stop," you tell him. Adrenaline must linger in your veins; you can barely speak.

His expression becomes impassive, and a lull in the conversation blossoms. He searches your face for something and you don't know what, but he must find it, because he dips down and kisses you chaste on the lips.

Your hands are back to tentative as they explore his neck. Your fingertips grace the curves of his throat and then sink behind, into the dampened mess of his hair.

He stays chaste, dainty kisses, pulling back to dot them against your lips over and over.

"Eddie," you say softly, "what are you doing?"

"It feels like kissing," he says, tone a mirror of your own.

You huff a laugh against his lips and kiss back.

Later, after more kisses than you could ever count and an hour dozing on his chest whilst his hand rubbed circles into your tired back, you get dressed into your clothes that he likes so much and slip your goodie bag into the belly of your strappy purse.

"Don't go over the top with it, alright?" he says, watching the green bud dissappear.

Jeans back in place and still bare-chested, Eddie sits on the end of his bed and scratches the back of his neck. You give him a grateful smile. "No, I won't. I actually think I might sleep really well tonight without it."

He smirks. "I bet you will."

Eddie walks with you to the front porch. You'd linger if you didn't have to go, and you're pretty sure he'd let you. There's a fraction of awkward silence.

"See you later," you say, walking sideways down one step, another.

Eddie catches your hand. It takes you a second to realise what he's done: forced your crumpled thirty dollars back into your hand. Your heart misses a beat and you feel your stomach plumet – you hadn't fucked him for the free pot.

"Eddie-"

"My girl can't pay for her own supply. That's not happening."

You take one step up. "Your girl?"

He has the good graces to look nervous. "If you wanna be."

You don't know how to answer. He looks pretty like this in the last dregs of sunshine, big brown eyes waiting patiently for you to say something, hand clutching his elbow. It doesn't feel entirely real.

You step on tip toes and work your hands behind his neck to kiss his cheek before rubbing your forehead against his chin. "I'll come by tomorrow?" you ask hopefully. He relaxes under your weight.

"Any time you want. I'll take you some place nice, if you're up for it."

You set back on your heels and pull away. "You don't need to go all fancy on me, Munson." You're happy to get stoned and eat burgers on the couch.

He looks you up and down, eyes catching on the flanks of your thighs before he takes in your face. His smile is almost dorky when he says, "No I- I think I do. I'll see you tomorrow, pretty girl."

You nod with an aching smile and are a little ways away when he smugly calls, "Sleep well!"

After the lesson he just gave you, you're sure you will.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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thegoldencook-blog · 2 years ago

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Hiii! Idk where to start but I love your stories sooo much (especially daddy whiskey one shots and all) as much as I love your Pedro characters stories I have to ask do you plan to write more for cod men??? (a cpt.Price girl is asking 👀)

Don’t Go

Captain John Price x Female Reader

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Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Major age gap (reader is 23, Price is 42), sex work (reader was a sex worker), brief violence, injury, hostage situation, semi-established relationship, dirty talk, size kink, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, brief mention/discussion of stds (reader and Price do not have any)

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A/N: You BET I have plans for more COD men babayyyyy and I am SO glad you specified your love for Price (;

And yes, I am already thinking about making a part 2. Lmk your thoughtssss

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John Price Masterlist

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Unfortunately, missions like this were routine. They’d been through many hostage situations before, countless negotiations for a person or group’s life. Going through the motions was relatively easy, as long as they had a plan. And when didn’t Price have a plan?

“Why’ve we stopped?”

“Soap’s takin’ a little longer to clear this room.” Price responds in a hushed tone, not turning toward Gaz when he speaks. He keeps his eyes forward, and his head clear. “That’s all.”

Once Soap has scanned the room, he retreats, footsteps silent as he returns. Blue eyes meet another set, shaking his head at the other captain. And just like that, they’re moving forward again.

The heavy thud of Ghost’s footsteps hit the roof, and even though the three men are on the top floor, Price still chuckles at the sound of Simon’s weight. “Bloody oaf.”

Holding up his left fist, the trio come to a halt as Johnny approaches the door to another room, one at the very end of this hall. They’ve cleared every floor in this building, and haven’t found a single soul. But they know the person they’re looking for is here… somewhere.

“In here!” It’s immediate, Soap is shouting before he even clears the room. His first mistake.

As soon as his voice hits the air, a flurry of men are on him. A handful charge at the soldier, two of them shooting at the open door. Immediately, Price and Gaz duck, storming the room in crouched positions. Three of the men engage in hand-to-hand with the soldiers, Price successfully shooting the two men with guns. Johnny’s knocked to the ground with a crooked nose, though his situation is handled quickly when Gaz takes care of the man that threw the hit. While turning to check on his comrade, Price takes a blow to the back of his head, turning to elbow another man in the face before grabbing his vest and hauling him over his shoulder, throwing him to the ground. A quick shot to the forehead is what ends the fight, Gaz’s hand becoming bloody as he takes out the last man.

It’s then that it dawns on him, Johnny’s words. In here. Immediately, his head whips around the room, attempting to find the person they’ve come to save. It’s then that he locks eyes with you. His chest rising and falling steadily, breaths ragged and heavy.

You.

The perfect image of you, once again.

In the corner of the room, surrounded by dark shadows and dust, sits your small frame. Tied to a rusty chair, your hands and feet are bound, your arms and legs bruised with your face bloody. A small, pleading noise seeps from you, bleeding around the edges of the gag stuffed into your mouth.

He almost can’t believe it; he’s shocked. So much so that it stops his movements, turns off the soldier part of his brain. Which is astonishing.

“Sir?” Soap asks, still on the ground.

The sound of Johnny’s voice snaps him out of this strange haze. Without responding, he’s rushing toward you, gait long and large as he marches across the floor. He can’t bring himself to say anything as he kneels, hands reaching for the fabric wrapped around your face. Staring into your terrified eyes, the gag is the first thing he removes, your mumbles insistent before him.

“John.”

His hand finds your face, your cheeks, holding you tenderly. John’s eyes are full of concerned bewilderment. This isn’t how he last left you.

Quickly though, he’s working on untying you, fingers taking apart the restrains on your hands and ankles. Now that he’s closer, he can see more of your injuries. You have a split lip and a bruised cheek, the sight horrifying him. Your knuckles are bloody, and so are your wrists. The ties cut deep into your skin, you must’ve tried so desperately to get away.

“C’mon, love.” Reaching out, his fingers find your armpits, urging you to stand. He watches you wince, a small grunt coming from your chest. “I know, I know it’s not easy.” His voice is soft and reassuring, and he wouldn’t be touching you so openly if he wasn’t already aware of the absolute angel that you are.

“Boys,” Turning, he addresses the two men, gesturing for their presence.

“Cap.?” Soap asks, still trying to catch his breath.

John releases you of his hold, allowing you to sit while he stands. Removing the gear around his waist, he hands them to Johnny and Gaz. “Take these.”

And they don’t question it; all they do is add it to their packs.

“I’m gonna need your cover.” All he has is his pistol, but with what he has in mind, he won’t be able to reach it too quickly.

“I’ll be on your six.” Gaz nods, “Ready?”

“Almost.” Turning, he comes back to you, kneeling before your limp form. “Ready, darling?”

Looking into his eyes, those deep blue hues you’ve missed so dearly, you nod. Listening to your small whine again is painful for him, but it’s for the best. He needs to get you to safety.

Situating his back to you, he keeps himself crouched, tapping his shoulders as a signal for you. With a deep breath, you reach for him, sliding your hands over the broadness of his body. Leaning forward, your arms loop around his neck, your legs spreading to wrap around his waist. And then he’s bending forward, reaching down to hold the bottoms of your thighs just beneath your knees.

“Hold on.” He grunts, standing slowly as he feels you cling to his body. Once fully up, he shuffles you further along his back, turning his head and asking, “You alright, love?”

“Yes.” Your face is right beside his, and you can smell him again. It’s beneath the scent of gunpowder and sweat, but it’s still there. He’s still here.

“March on.” He orders, and the boys follow their command.

Stepping forward, you gasp quietly at the sight of the fallen men scattering the room. Price’s head turns to the side then, his voice speaking firmly to you.

“Close your eyes.” He says, stepping over their bodies. “You don’t need to see this.” And just like Soap and Gaz, you do as you’re told.

Leaving the building is easier than he thought it would be. He expected more men to storm the levels, but it’s just as empty as it was when they cleared it. Carrying you down four flights of stairs is easy for him, your weight a sort of comforting presence. He doesn’t feel like it’s a nuisance to care for you, he wants to.

“Oi,” Soap shouts over the wind. “What’re you doing?”

“Just signaled for the helo.” John answers, setting you down. He keeps an arm looped around your lower back, helping you to stand.

“It’s too early for that!” Johnny argues, and Price doesn’t like the way he’s yelling in front of you. “We’re not done yet!”

“She needs somewhere to go!” John spits out in response, glaring daggers at his teammate. And you can feel the muscles in his chest and stomach flexing as he shouts, can feel his arm tighten around your lower back.

“By herself?!”

“I’ll be with her.”

Internally, you light up, leaning further into him.

“Captain,” Ghost states, having cleared the building’s exterior. “We need you.”

Not too far in the distance is the helicopter, its blades whirring even above the wild wind. Glancing up, Price takes note of its approach, knowing he’s got about a half a mile hike to meet it at the landing pad.

“Finish it without me.” Eyes flashing between his teammates’, he nods firmly. “You can do it.” Soap opens his mouth to argue again, but John is grabbing him by his tac vest before he can get another word out. With his voice deep and expression stern, he says, “I’ll be here. Just finish it.”

Following his orders with an aggravated sigh, Johnny returns it with a, “Yes sir.”

After that, John doesn’t wait. Sweeping you off your feet, he holds you in his arms this time, jogging lightly toward the now landed chopper. He’s missed this; well, not this - but the way you feel in his arms. Internally, he’s reveling in the way you cling to him. He’s saved you, yet again.

Half a mile is nothing for him, and your weight doesn’t slow him down in the slightest. He holds you tightly, not wanting your injured body to move too much. Honestly, he’s not even sure how you got into this mess. Briefly, John wonders what would have happened to you if he hadn’t come, but he shakes that thought right out of his head. He needs to stay focused.

“Alright, here we are.” John’s voice is deep and harsh, still in military mode. “Easy does it.” Crouching, he sets you carefully on the bench, laying you down. Immediately, you try to sit up and assess your surroundings, but a gentle push urges you back onto the seat. “Stay there.”

Aside from his name and a simple yes, you haven’t said anything to him, and that sparks worry in his mind. Kneeling beside you, he immediately begins checking you for wounds, any type of injury. And clearly, you have many.

“Christ,” He murmurs, shaking his head. “What did they do to you?”

Reaching for a med kit, he slides it out from beneath the bench, popping it open so he can clean and bandage you. It’s not his best work, but it’ll do for the time being.

“Don’t think you have any breaks.” John states, still doting on you. And quietly, you let him, feeling smitten all over again.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself take a breath, feeling safe in his hands. How on earth was he the one to come save you? What magical being blessed you with this outcome?

“This is the best I can do until we get you back to base.” Looking up, the memory of his last name pops back into your brain. The tag on his uniform jogging your memory, Price.

“You’re likely to be in shock.” Pulling out a thin, metallic-looking pack, he unfolds it to reveal a blanket. “C’mon, let’s sit you up.”

With a hand on your back, he helps you move upright, wrapping the foil around your shoulders. Still on his knees, he sighs, looking up at you. But your gaze is elsewhere, your head tilted toward the floor.

Moving onto the bench, he settles in beside you, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you into him. He can’t help it; he feels so deeply for you. He knows you’ve been through so much, even before this event. So, he doesn't ask any questions, aside from one.

“You alright, love?” Turning, he kisses your head, lips pressing into your hair as he keeps himself there.

“Yeah.” You reply shakily, and even though the circumstance is less than desirable, he’s happy to hear your voice again. “Yeah.”

“It’ll be alright.” John whispers over your hair, “We’ll get you out of here.”

The very same words he said on the night you met.

“But… you already paid.”

“Keep it.” He insisted, digging into his pockets. Pulling out a handful of bills, he gave you those, too. “And this, too. Get out of here.”

When he’d asked for a woman of your features, he didn’t expect you to be as beautiful as you were, or as young as you were. It broke him, the knowledge he now had. A woman so young doing whatever she could to keep her head above water, barely in your early twenties and just trying to support yourself.

“I… I don’t… I don’t know how.”

The most innocent, stunning thing he could have fathomed was standing right in front of him, broken and lost. He needed to help you, he felt it was his duty to. You had little to nothing, aside from what John had given you. But he continued to overextend himself, doing his best to find a woman’s shelter that would take you in, and then paying the expenses. Just room and board, and the drive there. He was the first man in your entire life to show you such kindness. And now here he is, showing it to you again.

“Those men can’t hurt you.” John now whispers into your ear. “Not anymore.”

They’d tried to bring you back, the men running the establishment. It just so happened that they also ran the largest cartel in the country, a prime target for the team. And now, the head of the group is being captured as you sit resting against the captain’s chest.

It’s not that the others didn’t have a heart, they were all worried for you, too. But with John constantly at your side, it was clear you were being taken care of. Even when the rest of the team goes to their respective rooms, shedding their gear before hopping in the showers, Price doesn’t leave. Gunpowder and sweat and dirt cover his body, some of it smeared on his face, but that’s not his priority right now.

“Does she have any breaks?” He asks from the corner of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His brow and lips are in a permanent frown, concentrating on the way the medics handle you.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” The one cleaning your wounds answers.

Another washes your body in a sponge bath-like fashion, stripping you down to your underclothes to do so. For your privacy, they ask John to leave the room for this, but you protest with a rapid shake of your head.

“Stay,” You stutter out, turning your head toward him. “I want you to stay.”

“I’m here, love.” Feet propelling him forward, he kneels beside the table you’re on. Grabbing the hand you reach toward him with, he kisses it. “I’m gonna stay.”

Looking up at the medics, he inquires, “Where will she be?”

“Block D, hall 3 in room 18.”

“Deep in the building, eh?” He comments, glancing back down at your pretty face. “I’ll take her there.”

“It’s protocol that we -”

Cutting them off, his voice is deep and stern, that rough accent making you sigh. “I said I’ll take her there.”

And when you’re properly cleaned and given a fresh set of clothes, that’s exactly what he does. After convincing him that you can walk, he trots down the halls with you at his side. His own quarters are in block C, so you won’t be too far away from him.

“Here’s the room we’ve secured.” He states, unlocking it with the key the medics gave him. “It’s only temporary,” Shoving open the door, he allows you to take a look inside. With hesitant steps, you walk in, still listening to him. “But it’s safe. I promise you.”

It’s not much, not at all. It’s super small with a single bed against the back wall, with nightstands on either side. To your left in the corner sits a desk with a chair, and… that’s it. But right now, it’s more than enough. You’re not staying at a luxury hotel, it’s just a place to keep you safe.

“Alright,” John’s voice prompts you to turn around, watching as he grabs the handle to the door. “Here’s the key,” Reaching out, you take it, wide eyes staring up at him. “I’m off, darling.”

“Wait,” Your hand reaches out, falling on his arm. “W-Why?”

“I need to put my gear down, love. Get all this grime off me.”

He’s met with silence, and pleading puppy eyes. Your hand is still on his bicep, stepping a little closer to him. You hate to be a nuisance, but you really can’t help it. The thought of being alone right now is terrifying to you.

John’s sweet eyes flicker back and forth between yours, a small and gentle smile growing on his face. “You wanna come with me?”

Taking the key back, he makes sure to lock the door before ushering you away to his room. His hand falls to your lower back, his body towering above your own as he strides forward beside you. In barely two minutes, you’re at his door, watching him unlock and open it for you.

The captain’s room is far bigger than your own. Nothing huge, but a nice size for sure. There’s a queen-sized bed off to the left with dressers on either side, and across from his bed sits a full wardrobe. In the far right corner is his desk, with a window above it. Your room didn't have any windows.

“Make yourself comfortable, love.” John nods toward his bed, and is met with your sweet smile. “Ah,” He grins, reaching out to gently tap your chin. “There she is.”

His words and gestures make your cheeks warm; you’re so flattered by him. And as he starts to take off his boots and gear, you make your way over to his bed, sitting on the edge.

“J-John?” Even though he’s been sweet, you can’t help but feel like a burden.

“Yeah, love?” He uses that word so often with you.

But he doesn’t look up. Kicking his boots off, he leaves them at the door, trotting over toward the wardrobe as he begins removing his gear.

Swallowing timidly, you stare up at him, watching him undress.“Thank you.”

Grinning, Price huffs out a chuckle. Sliding off his long-sleeve, he tosses it into a nearby clothes bin. “No need.”

“What do you mean?” For some reason his words prompt a sense of sadness inside you, with almost a hint of insecurity.

“Just doin’ our job.” Casually, he shoves down his slacks, stepping out of the cargo material. But then he’s turning to you, those blue eyes piercing your gaze. “If I knew it was you, I’d have been there a lot sooner.”

At this point, he’s in his boxers, reaching out to grab and sling a clean towel over his shoulder. When he turns back to you, your breath stalls. You’ve never seen him so bare. But it doesn’t feel… sexual. The air is calming and friendly, intimate. You feel honored to know he’s this comfortable around you.

John looks deep into your gaze, leaning down in front of you with a sigh. For the first time, nearly his entire body is on display. The curly hairs on his chest, the ones trailing down his navel, the chorded muscles in his forearms and the bulges of his biceps. His chest looks firm, and you know he’d be warm. The muscles in his stomach are outlined, too, flexing slightly as he breathes.

“Alright now,” He says, “I’ve gotta do this part myself, yeah?” It makes you chuckle, feeling bashful before him. “I’m off to shower, but I won’t be long.” Standing, he throws a little wink your way. “Promise.”

Though, he wishes he could take you into the shower with him. He knows the medics did a fine job washing you up, but he’d do it again in his own way. Slide his hands along your body, kneeling on the ground while lathering you with soap and kissing your belly. He wonders if you’d let him kiss you again, if maybe he could touch you. But he doesn’t ever want you to think that’s what this is. That he’s just helping you for… that.

When John is finally gone, the room seems darker, stiffer. Leaning over, you turn on his nightstand light, the soft yellow hue comforting you. He’d closed his closet, cleaning up his space before leaving. You wonder if he’s always like this, always so tidy and clean. With the smell in his room, it seems so. There’s the faint hint of tobacco, something you’ve never seen him smoke but you now assume he does. But overall, the scent of sandalwood fills your senses, that and scotch. He has a full decanter on his desk. Alongside an antique radio, maybe one he’s used for correspondence.

What smells even more like John is his bed, it’s like it’s calling to you. Scooching further up, you settle in, keeping yourself above the covers but laying your head on his pillows. The inhale you make is intoxicating, it’s him.

The smell lingered in your room when he visited you at the brothel, too.

Price didn’t touch you when you first met. He couldn’t bring himself to. You were a beautiful girl, and you still are, but your youth stuck in his mouth like glue. How could a woman so young work in a place like this? But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t see the appeal. You’re a gorgeous thing, with a body that curves in all the right places. From the length of your hair down to the twinkle in your eye, you were so charming, and you didn’t even know it.

“How old are you, love?” He finally asked, still standing near your closed door.

Fidgeting with your fingers, you glanced up at him nervously. “Twenty-three.”

At this, he huffed out a laugh of disbelief, eyes falling to the ground.

“How… how old are you?”

He hesitated, raising his brows in a sarcastically amused way. “Nearly twice your age.”

That was the night he refused your services, and offered you every ounce of material payment that he had. And he promised to come see you again. He told you to take care of yourself, and that he’d be back. He’d help you find a better life.

And he made good on his promise. The very next day, he was back in your room, claiming to pay for your services but not laying a finger on you. All you did was talk, discussing your lives and ways to make them better. He offered his help, his knowledge, being that he was twenty-plus years your senior. It was incredibly relieving to have such a dominant male figure in your life that was also kind, and loving. John didn’t care because he had to, or because he knew he’d get something in return. John cared because it was in his nature to.

“Have you ever been with a woman before?”

“Plenty.” John chuckled, eating the dinner he’d packed for the two of you.

Smiling, you glance down at your plate of food. “I mean… here? In a place like this?”

This time, his answer is said with a low sigh, nodding his head as he mumbles quietly, “Plenty.” But then he’s lifting his head, waiting for your eyes to meet his again. “But none of them have ever been as lovely as you.”

It was on the third night that you made a small advance, helpless to the attraction you had for him. He was incredibly handsome, smart and kind, skilled and strong. Saving up money for your escape was going to take a few days, but you didn’t mind, not as long as you had his company.

He accepted it, allowing you to crawl slowly onto his lap. You were entirely clothed, and so was he, but it did nothing to dull the heat in your bellies. You straddled him, bringing his uncertain hands to your hips. Your movements were careful and calculated, you didn’t want to overstep with him. And you didn’t. With your delicate hands finding either side of his face, fingertips petting at his finely-groomed hair, he leaned in. John’s hands were gentle and kind, and so were his kisses.

Gradually, he built up the nerve to move his hands, fingers sliding along your lower back and caressing your covered skin. The first night you met him he smelled like sweat and smoke, but every night since then, he’d smelled fresh. He kept his appearance up for you. And kissing him then allowed you to smell and taste the freshness of his breath, the hint of bourbon on his lips.

“You don’t deserve this.” He mumbled against you, eyes still closed as he pressed his lips to yours.

“I deserve you.”

John never saw himself as a man that would spend nights in brothels. But that night, he did.

It was the next day that he took you to the woman’s shelter, about forty miles north of where he stayed. During the week he cared for you, he made it his mission to keep you safe, to make sure no other men would lay their hands on you. But watching you walk away that day, it really killed him. He couldn't protect you anymore, but he had to keep his faith, faith in his plan and the fact that this was the best route for you. He did his best for you.

Snapping out of your haze is the abrupt opening of John’s door. It’s him, walking in with only a pair of sweats hanging on his waist. His navy blue boxers are peeking out along his hips, the hair on his chest gleaming with a small hint of dampness.

The mutton chops along his cheeks lift up with his smile, how cute. He likes seeing you all cuddled up on his bed. With a small grunt, he settles in beside you, resting his back along the wooden headboard of his bed. And then you do something that makes his heart soar; you lay your head on his lap.

Looking down, he grins, brushing your hair out of your face. “Haven’t been gettin’ into any more trouble, have ya?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” Comes your quiet reply, trying to force humor into your voice.

Looking up, you admit quietly, “I missed you.” It’s been six months, and you didn't know if you’d ever see each other again.

Inhaling sharply, he replies with a sympathetic nod, “I missed you too, angel.” Gently, he pets your head, doing his best to ease any of your worries. “Still just as beautiful, aren’t you?”

It was hard for him to let you go, and honestly, he’s glad you wanted him to stay with you, whether it be in his or your room. If he were here by himself, he knows he’d just be thinking about you.

Internally, you ponder your reaction. He’s been a bit flirtatious since your reconnection, and it makes you buzz inside. And honestly, it makes you want to reciprocate. Taking a beat from your first sensual act, you lift yourself, gradually crawling onto his lap.

With a big smile, he watches you move, feeling your limbs wrap around his body in a firm hug once you’re fully straddling him. Those strong arms hold you tight against his chest, feeling your face nuzzle into his neck. Breathing in his scent, you sigh. Now, you really do feel safe.

Lifting your head, you inhale a breath, taking in the sight of him. Of his bushy facial hair and pretty blue eyes, his smooth lips and clear skin. Just like before, when you first did this, you can feel his muscles resting beneath you. And with him shirtless, they’re more prominent than ever before. The hair on his chest makes you grin, the muscles in his chest and abdomen firm and warm, just like you remember them.

“John…” Fingers gliding over his beard, you release a heavy breath. And he does, too.

“I know,” He says, licking his lower lip. “C’mere.”

With his hand on your cheek, you let him guide you in, meeting his lips. It feels like a mini zap of excitement but it also feels like home. His scruffy facial hair rubs against you, trailing over and tickling your lips as you accept him.

When both your palms find his face, his right hand drops back down to your waist. Gently, he squeezes you, a light moan vibrating across your lips. A great sensation of satisfaction overcomes him. He’s contemplating keeping you this time. And you’re hoping for the exact same thing.

Now that he’s in your arms again, you don’t want to let him go. And if you have to, then you don’t want to have any regrets. You want him; even if it’s just for tonight, you want him.

John moves his lips over your own nice and slow, taking his time with you. He’s soft and gentle, listening to your quiet hums and eventual moans as they spill into the room. Repeated connections make your insides stir, your fingers curling into the hair along his jaw as he continues to make you breathless.

Amidst the excitement of it all, your hips begin shifting over his lap, testing the waters of your intimate act. And to say he’s shocked by this would be an understatement. With everything in him, he wants you to continue, wants you to do it naked, but instead, he stops it. Feeling his hand plant firmly along your hips, he successfully ceases your movement.

“You don’t have to do that.” He tells you gruffly, looking into your eyes. “You won’t ever have to do that again.”

“Do what?” You’re whispering, the moment feeling tender. Like it could shatter at any moment.

“Fuck a man for payment.” His words are blatant, raw.

“I, I don’t…” Gulping, you release a shaky breath. Everything leading up to this point has given you the impression that he finds you attractive, that he’s interested in you. So, why is he rejecting you? “You don’t want me?”

His response is immediate. “Don’t ask me that.” John doesn’t ever want you to feel pressured into that, not in general and especially not with him.

“You don’t?”

“Princess,” Releasing a harsh breath, those cerulean eyes bore into your own, a sense of longing swirling within them. “Of course I do.”

“Then be with me,” It comes out before you can stop it, but you don’t regret it. “Please be with me.”

Shuffling on his lap, you move in even closer, holding his handsome face in your hands.

“I’ve missed you so much, John. I, I’ve never had someone like you in my life.” All he can do is stare into your eyes, and his stare is full of so much genuine love for you. “I know I can be a burden, I know you’ve had to take care of me, but… I like it, I really like it, baby.”

A heavy breath is forced out of his nose at that word, the first time you've ever called him baby.

“You’re never a burden.” He tells you firmly, shaking his head. “You’ve never been a burden to me.” And it’s true. Everything he did, he did willingly. “I want you to depend on me. Because I’m here.”

“I know you are.” And now, you’re whispering, bringing yourself in to rest your forehead against his.

The dim glow of the room makes the moment feel that much more special to you. His fingertips continue to caress your back, now dipping beneath the edge to feel your skin.

“That doesn’t mean you have to do this.”

“I know that!” You state passionately, “Who says I have to? I haven’t, ugh.” Closing your eyes, you release a quiet yet frustrated breath. “I haven’t done that in months.”

“Good.” John’s response is stern, “That was my hope for you.”

Sliding your hands down his face, they land on his chest. “John, it’s okay if you don’t want me. But I need you to know that I want you; and if I could, I’d keep you.”

Your words stir every emotion inside his chest. It’s all he’s been wanting to hear, all he’s fantasized about since the day you left. He can’t count how many times you’ve floated into his head, day or night, friendly or sexual; it’s like you never truly left him.

“Well, who says you can’t?” Leaning up a bit, he moves into your space, hands becoming possessive as he grabs you.

With a small breath, almost a gasp, the edges of your lips turn up into a grin, fully leaning into him.

“Think you’re gonna leave again?” He asks gruffly, dominant hand rising to the back of your neck. Now, he’s less than a hair’s breadth away from your face, dark blue eyes dipping down to your lips before returning to your twinkling orbs.

“I don’t want to.”

“Yeah…” Looking between your eyes, he gives his head a single shake. “I don’t want you to either.”

Pushing you forward is the force of his hand on the back of your neck, your lips meeting once again. This time, the hand on your hip urges you forward, John sighing heavily into the kiss. Both hands remain on his handsome face as you let him move you like this, rolling your hips over his.

“You sure you want me like this?” That low voice asks with a laugh. “Old captain in the military?”

“You’re exactly what I want.”

Not allowing a response is the movement of your mouth, the gentle slide of your tongue. Your body movements seem urgent but the way you kiss him is tender, languid and sweet. And now that you’re truly mouthing at him, the tent in his pants is more than apparent.

Your collective motions have become heated, John’s kisses becoming passionate and sloppy. Timidly, his hands wander down to your legs, squeezing the soft flesh of your outer thighs. Because you know he won’t do it himself, at least not yet, you reach down to slip your longsleeve up and off your head.

“A burden,” Price huffs, eyes dipping down to your chest. “Do you know how lovely it is?” Another sloppy kiss, another heavy breath. “How lovely it is to take care of a little girl like you?”

“John,”

Pressing yourself to him again, he feels the softness of your chest over his, and he groans. You’re still wearing a sports bra, but with how eager you were to take your top off, he knows he’ll be able to rid you of that soon.

“It’s perfect, so perfect.” Sliding one of his hands down, it lands on your backside, massaging you kindly. “Feeling needed by you.”

He hasn’t been wanted in this way for so long, longer than he cares to admit. Women in brothels weren’t the same as you, they didn’t want a relationship with him. But you yearn for him, he can so clearly see it.

“I couldn’t stand to see you leave.”

“I know,” Remembering that day hurts your heart, you were convinced you’d never see him again. “I didn’t want you to go.”

“You’re a strong girl.” He expresses, his praise heating your body. “Could’ve made it without me.”

“But I don’t want to. I don’t want you to leave again,” Rolling your hips over his lap, you can feel the occasional pulse from his tip. “Please don’t go, not again.”

“I’m not,” John’s lips have barely left your own, only for a short breath and a handful of words. “I’m not going anywhere, princess.”

Securing one strong arm around your lower back, he changes your positioning. With gentle movements, the captain turns, laying you down on your back in the center of his bed.

“I’ll show you what it’s like.” He promises, kissing your cheek while settling above your body. “Show you how a real man treats a woman, yeah?”

Smiling, you run your hands up the sides of his face, fingers carding through his hair.

“Yes, baby.”

“Oh,” John groans low, leaning in to press his lips to your neck. “I like the sound of that.” Making his way down your throat, your collarbone, and now to your chest, his eyes find yours once again. “Can I take this off, love?”

Thick fingers toy with the edges of your sports bra, your expression going soft as you nod. You love hearing him speak to you like this. And after you’ve given him permission, he’s sliding it up and off your beautiful body, hearing your small breaths hitch.

“Oh, Christ…” Immediately, his eyes are on your breasts, leaning back a bit so he can cup you with both hands. “Such a beauty.”

Diving back down, his open mouth finds your chest, giving your soft flesh sloppy yet passionate kisses. Gasping, you find yourself arching against him, into him, cradling his head as those smooth lips wrap around the peak of your breast.

“John, yes…”

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Licking the pad of his thumb, he then rubs it against the nipple he hasn’t yet sucked. Glancing up, he witnesses your euphoric expression, your head tossed back and lips open in a silent moan.

Happy with this, he gives your solar plexus a kiss, continuing to work his way down. He gives time to every space he can reach, using his mouth to appreciate your breasts, your ribcage, your belly and pelvis. Occasionally, he’ll nip at your thin skin, but never enough to leave a mark.

“What about these?” Pressing his lips to the hem of your sweatpants, he speaks his inquiry gently, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it.

“Yes, John. Yes, please.”

As he slides them down, he continues his worship of your body, licking the sweet flesh of your grabbable thighs. When your pants are discarded, and you’re entirely naked for him, he leans back to take it all in.

Laying a hand over your lower belly, he rubs up and down, sighing. “You’re perfect.”

“Baby…” Your own hands find his forearm, caressing him.

“I want you all to myself,” Bringing himself back down, he shuffles between your legs. “You know that?”

“I know.” You confirm, your words light and airy as his breath fans over your naked sex.

“Darling, she’s so pretty…” And he’s talking about your pussy, the way it flutters when he spreads your delicate lips. “Can I touch her, love? Looks like she’s waiting for me.”

The gentle roll of your hips is all it takes for his tongue to drag up your sensitive center. You never expected him to ask permission like this, and for each little thing. But you understand it; he doesn’t know what you’ve endured in the past, and he wants to be a gentleman. He won’t take what isn’t given to him.

The rough hairs of his beard scrape against your inner thighs, rubbing over your skin as his mouth moves. It’s continuous, the firm drag of his tongue up your center while his first and middle fingers keep you spread. And the taste of you on his tongue is making him go mad, your tangy-sweet flavor finally available to him. Settling in, he savors it, wrapping his arms under your legs and over your pelvis, grabbing onto your hips when you begin to wiggle beneath him.

Every shudder, every little whimper, he pays attention to. If it’s the last thing he ever does, he wants to make sure you feel good.

“Oh, right there, huh?” He inquires cockily, feeling you jerk in his touch when the tip of his tongue dances over your clit. “Right above the hood…” And then he’s doing it again, fingers tightening their hold while you writhe from it.

Your moans are wanton, desperate, your hips rolling up toward his face whenever he leaves to take a breath. But it makes him smile all the same, your neediness.

“J-John,”

“Gotta be quiet, love.” He mutters, leaning in to suck on your lips. “Mm… boys are right down the hall.”

“I-I can’t, I…”

You can feel your thighs shaking, and so can he. Pinning your legs down, his broad shoulders keep them open, his mouth incessant as he continues to taste you. He switches from tongue-fucking your center to swirling the tip of it around your clit, but when he suctions his mouth to that little bundle of pleasure, that’s when you lose it.

“Baby, babybabybaby.”

He’s sucking on you, and doing so sloppily. The soft wetness of it echoes throughout the room, your fingers curling into his plain bedspread as you do your best to relax.

“Quiet, now.” He chastises gently, feeling the tremble in your lower belly. With sweet touches, he pets at your upper pelvis, soothing you. “Quiet for me.”

Your small cries are nearly helpless, every desperate whimper spilling from your lips. He’s licking your clit, that wet, warm tongue rolling against it. And everything about it is so perfect, the way he’s touching you, the way he’s handling you and speaking to you.

“John, I’m gonna,” Releasing an airy laugh, you finish with. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“C’mon, then.” He encourages without a lick of hesitation. “Why don’t you do it for me, eh? Right in my mouth.”

“Fuck me,” Reaching down, your fingers find his hair, curling into those gorgeous brown locks.

Rutting up, he lets you use his face, rolling your hips over his mouth while he lays his tongue out for you. The entire act has his body vibrating with energy and excitement, and you haven’t even touched him yet. It’s the fact that he’s pleasuring you, that’s what’s really getting to him.

When you really start to shake, his hands lower to your backside, squeezing you harshly as you reach your peak. He’s groaning into you, listening to your shrill cry. And with as loud as it is, he can tell you’re doing your best to be quiet.

Clinging to him is what keeps you grounded, what keeps you from floating too far away. It shivers through your body, blooming from your hips and spreading everywhere. When you start to jerk too much, or move too far away, his hands are back on your hips, keeping you down. But he works you through it; he’s patient and continues to lick you, even when your body begins to come down.

“Precious thing,” His face is wet with you, his beard; you can tell from the feeling of it rubbing along your inner thighs.

Opening your legs wider, you inhale a steady breath, keeping your eyes closed as you relax. Below, John licks his lips, placing one last, tender kiss before climbing over you.

“Come on,” He coos, kissing your cheek with slippery lips. “Come back to me.”

Even through his sweatpants, you can feel how big he is, how heavy he’s hanging between his legs. “John,” You whine from it, opening your eyes to find his. Reaching up, you caress his face in your hands, even though it’s wet with your slick. “Please.”

“Please what, gorgeous?”

“Please fuck me.”

He’s surprised by your wording, he’d assumed you’d say something softer to him. But he likes it; it shows that you’re becoming more comfortable like this.

“Christ,” With a grunt, he’s sitting up and leaning back on his heels. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Grinning, his fingers curl into the hem of his pants and boxers, sliding them down his muscular legs. You giggle when he side-steps out of them, his weight dipping on the bed. But your giggles quickly subside when you see him, leaking and red.

“Oh…” Leaning up with a small moan, you reach out for him, your delicate fingers wrapping around his shaft. “Baby.”

“You like it?” He wonders aloud, glancing down.

He’s thick in your hand, and lengthy. He’s cut too and nicely trimmed, a small bit of hair still remaining. Which you like; John’s body hair makes you feel hot inside.

“Yes.” It comes out as a small whine, a breath of disbelief. You can’t believe you finally have him like this. “Baby… you’re so big.”

“You flatter me, angel.” He grins, shaking his head. But that cocky attitude fades when you swipe your thumb over his tip, his sticky precum sliding over his reddened head. “Fuck me.”

Huffing out a few breaths, he lets you do this, lets your hand stroke him languidly. “I, uh…” Glancing up, you give him your sweetest expression, prompting his stutter to continue. “Don’t, I don’t have a condom, sweetheart.”

“That’s okay, baby.”

“Still want me?”

“Mhm.” Your reassuring smile is a gift to him, a breath of relief falling from his lips.

“I… hate to ask, but…” Clearing his throat, he reaches down, stopping your motions. “Haven’t got anything to worry about, have I?” Now that he’s thinking about it, he probably should've asked before going down on you. Hindsight is 20/20, but your answer reassures him all the same.

“I’m clean, baby. They tested me at the shelter, came with the health program you paid for.” Something about your words make him feel proud, knowing he was able to successfully care for you.

With a blissful grin, you reach out for him, grabbing his shoulders and gently guiding him back in. Slowly falling back to the bed, he settles above you once again. John’s talented lips find you again, his naked pelvis resting above your own. His kiss is brief, eyes glancing down as he angles himself between your legs.

“I’m so thankful for you.” Whispering into his ear, you grin, kissing the shell of it.

With a low breath, something like a groan, John buries his face into your shoulder, the sloped tip of him rubbing against your outer entrance.

You haven’t had sex in more than six months, and your traumas are definitely still there. But everything about John screams safety to you, safety and security. And you want him to have you.

Lifting your legs, you rest the soles of your feet on his bedding, your arms encircling his neck. John’s humid breath fans against your shoulder and throat, a small moan floating from his chest when he truly slides in. His tip stretches you, but not painfully so, thanks to his extensive foreplay. But the deeper he dives, the fuller you feel, and from the emotions of it all you think you could cry.

“John,”

“I know, sweetheart. Almost there.” He coos lovingly to you, releasing a heavy sigh when his pelvis meets the sensitive space between your legs. “That’s it, that’s it, darling.”

Fingernails scraping into his back, you whine when he rolls his hips, not at all pulling out but just grinding into you. Both of those large arms slide beneath your back, holding you tightly against his muscular frame.

“Like that,” That gruff voice tells you, his hips now retracting. “Those cute little whines.”

“Baby, more.”

“Eager thing,” He comments, returning to your warmth at a slightly quicker pace.

“I’ve been eager for you since the day I met you.” Comes your breathy admission, nails trailing down his sculpted back.

His pace is passionate, sensual and sweet - exactly highlighting tonight’s mood. Every time he leaves your sex he’s diving back in like he’d never get a taste of it ever again. Even without force, he’s hitting you deep, throbbing against your warm channel whenever he feels you clench.

“H-Harder, baby.” You’re whining, gasping beneath his weight. “Please.”

Lifting himself slightly, John’s left hand reaches down to your hip, putting his entire weight into keeping you still. With his other, he lifts it to rest on his forearm, breaths ragged and heavy as he shoves himself into you. And he does it exactly as you requested, not going fast but applying more pressure and intensity.

“Oh, I’ve wanted you.”

“I want you, John. Please, let me see you ag -” But then you’re crying out, feeling his tip punch against your sensitive spot. “Again, please let me see you again.”

“You’re staying here until I say.” He declares, “You’re staying with me.”

Absolute relief washes through your bones, your limbs tingling with continuous waves of pleasure and it’s from him, all of it is from him.

“We’ll move your things.” John promises, grunting with every thrust. “In here, we’ll bring them here. Keep ‘em with you and me.”

“Really, baby?”

“You think I’m gonna let you out of my sight? Darling, you’re mine.” The rough drag of his length along your walls is debilitatingly blissful, the wetness from his tongue and your high aiding in the smoothness of his thrusts. “You’ve been mine from the start.”

It’s overwhelming, his words and the things he’s doing to your body. You’ve wanted this for longer than you can remember, to be held in a man’s embrace. But not any man, not a man that treated you like a commodity. A man like him. Who cared for you, mentally and physically, who did his best to protect you and nurture your well-being. To keep you with him, to help you grow and in turn, help him.

“L-Love you, John.” Head snapping up, those stunning blue orbs search for your own.

What did she say?

Meeting his eyes with an all too tender expression, you repeat fully this time, “I love you so much.”

Your name is breathed out of his mouth, the hand on your hip leaving to find your cheek. He cups you firmly, lowering himself to meet your lips. And you like it better like this, when you can hold him.

“Sweetheart,” The crack in his voice makes your lips break out into a wondrous grin, his emotions seeping out of him. “I loved you then,” Kissing your cheek, he leans in, pressing his forehead to your temple. “And I love you still.”

And John absolutely basks in the presence of your love, in your sweet words and the way you cling to him. You’re his now, his to care for and protect. And he hopes he can give you that, he knows he can give you that.

“I’ll treat you right, angel.” He’s devoted to you; a woman has never had such a hold on him before you. “I’ll keep you safe, keep you happy, yeah?”

Fingers curling into his hair, you lift your hips, meeting his every thrust. And it makes him choke on his own breath, makes his throat go dry from how harshly he groans.

“Let me be that for you, let me take care of you.”

“John, yes. I want, I want that. Want to be with you.”

“Then you will be.” He can feel the way you pulse around him, the way your nails scratch at his skin and the way your lips suction to his neck. It’s all-consuming, you’re pulling him in. He’s falling into an abyss that he never wants to be free of. “I’ll give you the goddamn world, princess.”

“Just don’t go.” Moaning, you feel the muscles in his stomach tense, the erratic jut of his thrusts. “Please don’t leave me again.”

Forcing himself into you a half a dozen more times, and he’s spilling inside, shoving himself in as deep as he can go. And even through all the ringing in his ears, he hears one thing. Only you.

Thoughts of what could be flash through his mind, a life with you. Pleasure bursts through his core as he rides out his high, rocking his hips into your center, keeping your body close. You’ve left at least a handful of hickies on his chest, marks he’s eager to see in the morning. But he can wait for that, his goal right now is to cherish you.

Painfully, he’s reminded of the image he was met with when he rescued you. Gagged and bloody, bruised from top to bottom while tied to a rusty chair. He’ll never forgive himself for letting that happen to you.

“Never.” He promises, chest heaving as he attempts to steady his breaths. Both hands slide around your body once again, pressing your breasts against him. Your soft giggles make him grin, his facial hair tickling your skin. Sweetly, he kisses you, looking into your eyes as he says, “Never again.”

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