pairing: clay beresford x reader | word count: 1.4k
summary: though Clayton is committed to recovering from a heart transplant, he has no problem with giving you what you want.
warnings: smut (18+), fluff, self pleasuring, thigh riding, begging
a/n: not my proudest work ngl. originally posted on my ao3. happy reading!! <3
Your hips twitched and squirmed beneath the bedsheets. You couldn’t sleep, you actually had a difficult time sleeping these past few months without the feeling of Clayton inside you, taking you in ever so slowly.
It’s been six months since his heart transplant surgery, and he has been concentrating on full recovery since. Of course, at the expense of your guys’ nightly routine. Being deprived of sexual contact did no justice to your own body’s desires as seen with your struggle to keep yourself under control.
You eyed your husband, who laid next to you soundly asleep. Again, it’s been six months. If you had to go any longer without any form of sexual activity, you might end up killing yourself.
With a deep inhale, you shimmy in your bed, tugging your pyjama shorts down with your feet, them coming off in a jiffy and you gently kicking them away. Not hard enough for them to make contact with the floor but plenty enough for it to lay on the edge of the mattress. Next came your panties, which were tighter and required more force to remove them so you resorted to your hands. Gently kicking them away, your hands slowly made their way to your aching core which was already wetting. Taking two fingers, you danced over your cunt and began inserting yourself, pleasure washing over you but it didn’t fully hit until the tip of your finger meets your clit.
“Oh, that’s the spot,” you muttered and then took your palm to your hand to stick your moans. You arch your back into your touch, your hands were a sticky mess already. Brushing your fingers against your clit, you nearly let out a guttural cry but the hand over your mouth prevented it from freeing itself from your lips. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes as you slipped in and out of your cunt.
“Good lord,” you whined. “Clayton,”
“Do you really miss me that much?”
You froze with your fingers still encased in your folds. Clayton rolls over on his side to be fully facing you and a smirk teases the corner of his lips, revelling in your palpable embarrassment. You didn’t need a mirror to know you were a blushing mess right now.
“You didn’t hear all of that, right?”
Clayton chuckles. “Probably most of it, I’d say a good ninety nine point nine percent,”
“So you heard all of it,” you narrow your eyes.
You whimper and bury your face in your pillow, humiliation washing over you. You could hear Clayton laugh, seemingly enjoying your discomfort. You feel his hand run through your hair.
“Clayton, you’re killing me,” you say, voice muffled thanks to the plush of the pillow. “You can’t leave me hanging this long and not expect me to fulfill my dirty thoughts.”
Clayton hums, fingers massaging your scalp. You continue your rambling.
“And I know you’re healing, baby. I know. But it’s unfair that I be put through such sexual shortage, don’t you think?”
Clayton’s amusement only shines when he lets out a hearty laugh. “You’re dramatic,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “All though, if you’re that desperate…” his voice lowers and your head rises.
“I’m listening.” You propped.
With that familiar smirk that always made your stomach fill up with butterflies, he shifts himself to lay on his back and he spreads his legs. Hand motioning for you, you slowly climb up and settle on his lap. Your hands rest on both of his shoulders to stabilise yourself, and he entwines his fingers with yours while his right hand rests on the softness that is your thigh.
Once you were well adjusted, he began to bend his knee upward, angling it until it made firm contact with your core. You bite your lip to try and restrain a moan but it’s no match.
“Go on, princess,” he purrs, immediately sending a shock wave down to your cunt. God, you missed this— missed his seductive whispers, his gentle way of words to assure you before diving in. “I know you’ve been dying for this.”
His hand, the one encased in yours, moves to grip your other thigh, holding you steady. The intensity of his gaze naturally drew you in and left you with no other choice but to abide.
That’s when you dipped yourself between his knee and a ragged gasp drew from your lips.
The sensation was definitely unlike other experiences, but not terrible. Before the surgery, you’d never tried out thigh riding with Clayton before. He would only comply with oral (either one of you receiving, but he mostly preferred to grant you his tongue), doggy style, or his favourite: piv. In a nutshell, Clayton preferred to take the steering wheel. In fact, you wouldn’t mind doing this all night till dawn with him.
Your core is fueled with desire and your pace quickly turns from slow and concentrated to speedy and smooth. Clayton’s smirk shifts to a cheeky grin, basking in your desperation. Perhaps if he’d already recovered in his entirety he’d be taking you under and thrusting his cock inside you. Then again, you were definitely not complaining about this, even under such limits. You became too lost and worked up in the unruly bliss that’s flooding your senses.
His knee is probably drenched right now.
That thought brought some embarrassment to you, obvious by the way your cheeks flushed pink. Clayton titters at that.
“Hmm, you’re embarrassed, are you now?” He inquires in that warm and gentle tone that he knows damn well heightens your sexual attraction to him. “So wet for me, what a needy girl.”
The pet name dragged out a torn groan from deep in your chest and you eventually lost it and started going even faster. You couldn’t fathom how he wasn’t beginning to lose himself in a wave of pleasure. He seemed to be entranced in the harmony of your movements like it was seeing a Renaissance painting for the first time in person.
“Don’t you worry baby, you can make a mess,” he mutters whilst dragging his fingers along the skin of your leg. “I’ll clean myself up when you’ve finished.”
“Clayton,” your voice quivers and you release a strained, “I’m gonna cum.”
“I’m ready for you whenever you are, my princess.”
Swallowing hard, you pick up the pace even more and you’re going fast as your lower half possibly could. Your strangled noises dragged on and your grip on his shoulders tightened. Hopefully you left no bruises.
Your back arches in sync with a strained cry, your hips rocking against his thigh. His fingers on your thighs tightened to ensure you didn’t fall over from the climax that was creeping up on you. One of your hands makes its way to his hair and you tug on it in rashness. If it weren’t for his and your own grasp you’d have most likely toppled over by now. He kept whispering what was a mix of sweet nothings and enticing encouragement.
Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you reached your peak, dissolving into the pleasure. An edged gasp and a shockwave seize your body, and you collapse onto his chest, his arms immediately enclosing you and pressing your form against his torso.
For a moment, you two just lay there. Silence. Nothing but that and your frantic breaths, which hindered with every passing second. Slowly, Clayton’s right hand shifted to sit on the small of your back, right above the curve of your ass. His left hand took the time to stroke your back and fiddle with the ends of your hair. After unwinding from your climax, you propped your chin up on his chest to look him in the eye with nothing but pure adoration. He exchanged your gaze, making your heart flutter. You close your eyes, press a gentle kiss to his collarbone, and rest your cheek against his chest.
“I love you.” You declared, and you couldn’t see it, but you knew he returned your words with a smile.
“I love you more,” He said and gently planted a kiss on the top of your head. You’d retort with a ‘no, I love you more!’ but to be honest, you were too worn out for an I love you war.
“Let’s hope the maids didn’t hear you.”
You bit back a giggle that still made its way through your lips, and so did he.
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