˖ ✴︎ ֹ another self-indulgent nsfw! mirren the florist x oc piece.. i'm spoiling myself at this rate. as always, credit to @fanfics-with-coffee for such a lovely character ! i seriously recommend trying out their mod.
mentions of alcohol + unprotected intercourse not fully dived into, but it's there if you squint..
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his heart's in his throat, body buzzing with anticipation and cheap alcohol still pumping through his system. mirren shakily exhales, throat like sandpaper as he swallows down his taut nerves.
dick pulsing with need, buried inches deep into solange's warm, wet heat. so wet. things weren't supposed to escalate so quickly as they did.
it was supposed to be a simple friends night out for abigail and a handful of others. sure, mirren had no real intentions of tagging along when he'd first received the offer originally. but learning solange would be there? that was a golden opportunity offered only once in mirren's lifetime.
the night started out slow, the group indulging in a few too many drinks; sappy moments and bittersweet laughs. alex being a thorn to mirren's side, as usual.
so how the yoba did things turn out like this?
“is this.. okay?” the question tumbles from his lips like a hoarse whisper, fogged lenses hardly containing the awestruck sparkle in those dirt-brown eyes. long hair sticking to the corners of his face, as bitten nails dug into the soft flesh of solange's hips as she remains stilled on his lap. “i don't.. if it's too much, we can stop here—”
“no, no.” solange shakes her head, slowly reopening those grey hues to unite their gazes. “this is alright, i just.. need a minute,” she'd rasp, brows coming to furrow together as she flicks her sight down to where they're connected.
after an awkward second of silence, her lips pursed into a subtle pout—contemplative, a cute habit mirren's grown to adore all too much from his time of.. watching her.
“i can take the lead if you want, ‘s not like we're doing this entirely for me...” mirren all-too-confidently ushers, like he's not one weak thrust away from busting a nut. truth be told, he's internally panicking; hands clamming up to the point he's wistfully hoping she wouldn't notice, heartbeat skyrocketing into dangerous levels.
but he can't chicken out now, not when he's getting everything he's ever wanted in the past few months alone. “i can make you feel good, pretty.”
solange’s flushed cheeks could only blossom a shade darker in response, “don't call me that.” she'd sharply comment, earning a soft grimace from mirren in turn.
“so was that a yes, or..?” a crooked smile's tugging at the corners of mirren's chapped lips, half-lidded eyes fixating on every little expression solange had to offer. solange could only groan in response, face nestling into the side of his neck—huffing out against his skin. she's quiet once more, before giving a shy nod of her head. “solange.. need you to use your words for me, please. i want to hear you say it, say that you want me.”
his voice cracks, humiliatingly enough. he might've been getting a little desperate at this point, thinking more with his dick than his actual brain. it couldn't be helped.
“you're so weird.” she's quick to retort, though her tone's far less biting than usual. “yeah, okay.. i want you, mir. can you just..—”
mirren doesn't wait. not when he's already feeling bold and full of impulsive ideas he's been dying to act out on. calloused hands run down her body, now hoisting solange up by the backs of her thighs, dick slipping right out of her heat to filthily nod against his abdomen.
he's too eager, head up in the clouds of enacting every fantasy he's ever dreamt of. mirren's knees dimple against the small mattress as he shuffles about, albeit clumsily.
“you're awful at this.” solange snorts, nails softly digging into mirren's shoulders as he struggles to pull his sheets back.
“i'm trying here. it's kinda hard to..” mirren's grip on her loosens up, a half-attempt to drop her onto her back against the old sheets—a creak of the bed, followed by a sharp thunk! of head-on-headboard action. “oh shit. shit, i'm so sorry. are you okay?” his voice cracks, riddled by the prior nerves.
he's panicking now. mirren's crawling just overhead as one hand comes up to cradle the back of solange's cranium, just as she's wincing with a scrunched nose. “nice coordination there, genius.” solange idly comments as her own hand raises to sit atop his, fingers nearly entangling.
“i'm sorry, i swear i'm better than this.” mirren's leaning down by now, chest to chest as his trembling lips press to her forehead; with dark bangs skewed about. it's a tender gesture, too affectionate for being a night full of bad choices.
“mirren..” solange hums out, slowly retracting her hand to then brace against his chest—the other trailing dangerously low to his aching length, desperate for attention as pearly white beads ooze out. “it's okay.. you're okay, we're not filming some top-quality porno.” she'd follow up with a subtle snort.
“right, right.” mirren follows up with a less nervous laugh, fingers running along the temples of his glasses before opting to take them off. he diligently sets them aside, before resting his hands on the undersides of solange’s thighs once more. “no more screwups, I swear..”
he's pulling her closer now, his own hips jutting out with eager fervor as his cock sits heavy against her wet folds.
“i'll take care of you, sunflower.”