hi everyone! I just wanted to come on here to say I won’t be writing about jack schlossberg anymore. I do not agree with his stances on isr*el, and being jewish is not an excuse for zionism. I find it absolutely disgusting and insulting the way he responded on his podcast appearance and in that video going around.
genuinely not sure if I should even keep my original posts/stories up as I do like to look back on my writings / a lot of people have enjoyed them. lmk what you all think. x
NSFW 18+ f!reader, college!luigi, both age 21, foreplay, soft p in v sex, creampie, reader is on the pill, size kink, two orgasms, sweet aftercare, so much fluff, and the smut is fluffy too :) <3
♡ you and your boyfriend are in the honeymoon phase, three weeks into your relationship, and you have sex for the first time in his dorm bed on a cold and cosy night.
i posted this on ao3 as scentoflemonbalm a few weeks ago and removed it recently because i wanted to re-edit, and i instead intend to use tumblr for my writing (i prefer the format). i might upload this edited version to ao3 again at some point but i know the audience for tumblr and ao3 mostly overlaps. <3<3
word count: 14.2k
It's a cold November evening, and together, you and your boyfriend lie in his tiny dorm bed, where recently you had spent most of your time. Truthfully, the space is indeed too small a piece of furniture for two people to rest separately beside each other. The room itself is annoyingly cramped, but area capacity doesn't bother either of you much at all. You're in the honeymoon phase, that infatuated, adorable period that has your friends rolling their eyes in the presence of the two of you; where you can't keep your hands off each other, and you don't want to either. You don't need a bed fit for two, when you're constantly snuggled up as one.
The sun has long since set, with the dreariness of autumn deep in effect. It's eight o'clock in the evening, still fairly early, but the sky is pitch black outside—Luigi's bedside lamp the only source of light in the small room—and there is quite an unnatural, though to be appreciated, calm about the dorm complex and the campus outside. Recently the temperature has dropped quite immensely, and it has been easy to find many an excuse to do nothing but laze around indoors, when you aren't having to drag yourself to the library through the freezing cold. So you gladly rest now nestled into the crook of your boyfriend's neck, body sprawled across him; soft legs over the warm material of his sweatpants, the limbs intertwined with his. Your hands can't keep still—they move between scratching lightly at the nape of his neck, then to the drawstring of his hoodie, then to reaching a little higher so you can play with the curls slightly frizzy from his earlier shower. He's wearing his second favourite hoodie, because his treasured navy and grey Adidas now virtually belongs to you. The fabric brings the two of you warmth individually, but the November cold drags you essentially closer to his natural heat.
Luigi has been playing the same video game for the last two hours, the laptop propped on his lap, while you alternate between dozing off into the cedarwood and vanilla of his neck, and scrolling through various media on your phone. Sometimes you game together, but video games aren't your forte, and now that Luigi has found something new to hyper-fixate on, it's much too difficult and fast-paced for your tired, wintry mind to keep up with.
At first he would feel bad for dedicating the majority of his attention to the virtual figures on the screen while his girlfriend lay beautifully beside him, but you assured Luigi that he gives you more than enough attention, and, especially as the season nears winter, you enjoy more than anything the domestic peace of snuggling into the warmth of his chest and neck while he plays. Your heart swells in that early-relationship enamoured bliss whenever your gaze raises to watch his eyes light up with the satisfaction of moving up a level, or winning a round against an opponent. You notice the changes in demeanour—the lip biting, the concentrated squint—when the playing gets difficult, in comparison to the relieved, satisfactory sigh, the sweet show of dimples when his mouth curves up to smile to himself. You remember how those adorable happy clefts in his cheeks were what first drew you to notice the curly-haired boy who couldn't stop glancing your way on campus. He eventually plucked up the courage to speak to you, three weeks ago now, offering amidst blushes and nervous coughs, to help you with a CIS class you'd unfortunately had to enrol in, because he had of course noticed you stressing across the other end of the lecture hall.
Since that moment of small conversation, not all that much time has passed, except that you both feel as comfortable as though you've known each other for years. It wasn't difficult to fall in love with Luigi Mangione, and you blamed it on the inevitability of the honeymoon phase for the reason why, nearly three weeks in, your heart finds it difficult to stop quickening and fluttering and hiccuping with every slight comment and movement he makes.
When your face isn't pressed into the curve of his collarbone, you pay special attention to the movement of his hands across the keyboard—those long, gorgeous fingers—and you want to hold one of his hands in your own smaller pair, but you don't want to distract him. And most importantly, you're by no means touch-starved. As much as you can't tear yourself away from him, your beautiful boyfriend (especially while he is very much convinced that playing video games with you in his dorm is very selfish and of ill thought) cannot leave you to rest in his bed untouched. Still so early on in your relationship, the affections from both of you aren't exactly absent-minded, thoughtlessly natural motions just yet, but they aren't overly-conscious, forced gestures either. You can't keep yourselves away from each other, and there is so much giddiness exciting your hearts; you're beautifully lovesick, and Luigi especially is devoted to ensuring you understand his dedication. You're already quite aware, from his extensive planning of every single date, the countless boughs of flowers you've received, alongside every little item you've mentioned that you like, in a way so intrinsically him that it couldn't possibly be off-putting or overwhelming. His sweet devotion to you is incredibly evident, where the other men you've had the misfortune of being acquainted with pale terribly in comparison.
So, while he invests his intelligence and concentration into the challenge of the game in front of him, he is never without maintaining your close proximity. Every time you're in bed together you eagerly, automatically, rush into his hold, and whenever you do he settles you in somehow even closer, pulling you comfortably into his chest as the game loads. The game takes possession of both of his hands, inevitably and unfortunately, but his left arm fits nicely around your left, so that the upper of his bicep warms your shoulder.
For Luigi that mode of affection isn't much though, when he's playing for sometimes hours at a time and in a fashion classically his own, cannot stop or even pause until triumph. So, he settles for forehead and cheek kisses, nose kisses whenever you lift your head to peer at the screen or at him, and the occasional "you tired?" or "you feeling okay?" whenever he feels you yawn into his neck. You shiver into his warmth at every feel of his lips on your skin, every vibration of his deep, sleepy voice against your ear, or your neck from his chest.
You're absent-mindedly playing a game of footsie together under the bedsheets, which is really just another attempt at fusing your body with his—you're already pressed close enough in the tiny bed—when a thought enters your mind. You are, in fact, yet to completely fuse yourselves—to put it metaphorically. You still haven't slept together.
It's not as if this thought is a particularly new one; indeed you've been thinking of him sexually and imagining your future sexual experiences together ever since your first date. Still, before tonight you somehow hadn't wondered why the two of you have been waiting so long. For many relationships, three weeks is a perfectly normal time to anticipate sex, but for you and Luigi, that amount of time you realise feels quite contradictory to the emotional and physical obsession you both have with each other. The prospect has been there in the background of your conversations, the cuddles, and the make-outs most expectedly. More than once you've both shyly laughed off an erection Luigi had quite easily garnered from having you unintentionally grind a little on his lap with your tongue in his mouth—and the wait hasn't felt at all tedious or sexually frustrating, but the moment to actually go to the next level with each other had never appeared.
Now, it's two hours into resting your head in his neck; inhaling his light musk and perfume with each breath, feeling the scratch of the hair on his ankles against your smooth, freshly-shaven skin, where the fidgeting of your feet had pushed the cuff of his sweats up slightly. You assume you must have just started ovulating or something, because your arousal has crept up on you imperceptibly, and the slow result is that all of a sudden, you need him. You need him in a way much beyond cuddles in pairs of hoodies and sweatpants, or soft kisses in each other's embrace. Most crucially, you don't see or feel any necessary point in waiting any longer. It has been time enough, and you feel giddy at the optimism that, consequentially, the sex will be all the better for it.
You could start to tease him, to finally disrupt his focus and distract him from the game with a slow, sensual movement, a hand to his crotch, a wet bite over his Adam's apple, but you want to talk to him first. After tonight, there will be plenty of time for teasing of that manner, and as of now you've never gone this far with him before, so even though you're fairly certain that his needs mirror yours, you want to communicate to be sure.
You shift your weight a little, pressing up on your elbow to look properly at his gentle, handsome face. The blue light of the laptop casts a shine over the tiny freckles that dot the area under his left eye, and just below is the mole that adorably has its twin on the right side of his face. You can't see it at this angle, but you express an absentminded, slight smile just thinking about his unconventional symmetry.
A couple of moments pass; you're gazing with hearts in your eyes as he bites his lip and squints, solving the problem in front of him. You almost don't want to break him out of his focus, but you know that expression very well from your many hours spent together in this room, and you decide this is the perfect moment to guide him to relax the tensity of the hyper-fixation. Before he can question why you're staring, you shift to sit up beside him, still squeezed tightly into his side with what little capacity the bed provides, and rest your head on his shoulder. He doesn't ask why you've shifted—he conjectures you've started to feel bored lying in the same position for so long—and he guesses he's mere minutes away from completing this level, so his primary attention remains fixed on the screen. You smirk as you watch the speed of his fingers work the keys, and without registering the movement, you squeeze your legs together subtly with a not-so-subtle ache. Then, you decide it's finally time to steal his attention.
You take your head off his shoulder and get comfortable in a new position, lying next to him on your side propped up by your elbow, where your right arm now reaches up to tangle your digits in his soft curls. You caress the strands wordlessly for a minute—quite ridiculously, though adorable, quite as though you're petting a puppy—and then lean closer to wrap your arms around his warm neck, burying your face back into his collarbone again, but this time to nip and bite at the skin. Instantly, Luigi notices the shift in your demeanour, and his cheeks flush as his nerves register the first of the hickeys. He's still tapping at the keyboard, still concentrating, but his focus is slightly shaky now. He makes a sound half-groan, half-exhale, when you bite a fair deal harder to create a second hickey on the left side of his neck, and a second later you hear the laptop mouse click. It never takes much for you to steal his attention when you're craving it. He's probably expecting that you're pining for a cosy make-out session under the covers; except, there's really something else you'd much rather be doing with him under these covers.
You begin kissing up and down the skin—you'll converse with him when you're done enjoying yourself in the burrow of his thermal neck—and as your lips work, you notice the sound of the laptop shutting, too.
"One second, baby," he murmurs into the crown of your head, pressing a kiss there. He holds the back of your head to him with one hand to keep you gently in place, and then picks up the laptop and leans down to place it on the floor beside the bed. "Just putting my laptop down," he adds.
His voice is a low, gorgeous sound, and you shiver from something other than the cold. By now you're perfectly warm against him, and even more so now that he shifts himself to sit up straight against the headboard, wrapping his arms snug around your torso as he shifts your position so that you settle deeper into his neck. You sigh in content at the feel of his strong arms around you, and yours stay positioned around his neck, fingers playing with the curls above his nape. He kisses your forehead, and you can't help but blush and smile at once. You're feeling so sleepy in his arms, and you could definitely doze off if you stay in this embrace for a minute longer, but you're still unsure of what to say. Perhaps Luigi is feeling too tired for sex, you wonder; although, he did just end his gaming session for no other reason than to make out with you.
Still buried in him, your face obscured from view, he brings one hand up to your cheek, smiling down at you as his index finger drags a soft caress over your skin, from your jaw to your eyelash.
"You okay? You gonna fall asleep on me?" he asks, amused. You're nestled into his neck like a sleepy kitten, lashes fluttering with each subtle move of your eyes. He brushes back your hair with his free hand, keeping his other on the side of your face. You look up, and the way he's gazing at you—so in awe, and so reverent—triggers that ache again.
"No," you say with the same amusement; emphatic, though a whisper. "I was trying to get your attention."
Luigi quirks a brow.
"And it worked, so..." You giggle on the last word, and he scoffs playfully.
"Obviously, baby."
You're blushing again, of course, and then you're squealing as his arms reach down to grip the back of your thighs. He pulls you up without warning to perch you onto his lap in a straddle.
"Luigi!" you laugh in surprise, resting your hands on his lower abdomen, and his breath hitches at the sudden touch.
"There's no room in this bed. You need to be on top of me." Luigi smirks boyishly, placing both of his hands on your hips and, in a motion that is beginning to become quite instinctive in your relationship, it only takes a moment before his soft hands are up under your hoodie to start to stroke the smooth of your waist with his thumbs. He's looking at you like you created the sun.
"Yeah?" you quip, though a flush is creeping up the back of your neck, and a most-certain arousal is blossoming in your panties. You're not exactly pressed flush to Luigi's crotch, but the warmth of his body under you is enough to strengthen the ache in your core. "I was comfy before," you tease, a pout on your lips.
With a touch to mirror his, you comfortably slip your hands under the hem of his hoodie, feeling the hard planes of his abdominal muscles. He shivers, and unbeknownst to you, your touch also sends blood rushing to his member. You absent-mindedly begin to feel the trace of his v-line, and that's when you pause, being sure to keep your hands where they are for now.
"Your hands are still so cold," he says lowly, an amused smile still on his face. He envelopes them in both of his own, and interlaces your fingers with his. "I didn't warm you up enough?" His brows raise.
You roll your eyes playfully. "It's freezing in here, Luigi. You weren't holding my hands before, I'm sure they'll warm up quickl—"
Your speech is cut off by another sweet half-squeal half-giggle, a reaction to the smooth way Luigi now gently, while quickly, pulls you down by your wrists do that you're now completely flush to his chest, face-to-face. His hands again find their most comfortable place around your waist under the hem of your hoodie, a valid method of thermal engineering. You don't quite know how your boyfriend manages to stay so well-heated at all times, but his touch quite literally enacts a heat transfer, and he's warming up your skin beneath the fabric while you're giggling on top of him, nose nuzzling his.
"Lu," you whisper, blushing, hands threading back into his curls again. You give him an eskimo kiss, a silly bump of your noses, and then you're blushing and giggling even more at the sight of his dimples up close. You can't resist to mention it. "Baby, your dimples are so cute."
It's his turn to blush now, and then he decides against words, choosing instead to close the small gap between the two of you. Your lips connect, a soft brush at first, where you're both still smiling into the kiss. His thumbs rub circles over the bottom of your spine, and as quickly as the kiss began, it deepens.
Luigi's mouth is so warm, so soft; he tastes faintly of mint and more faintly of the chips you remember him telling you he ate earlier. The alertness of your senses amuses you. Without intent—quite unconsciously—you begin to grind ever so slightly over his crotch, drawing guttural sighs from Luigi and breathy moans from yourself as you rock against his hardening bulge. Impassioned, the depth of your kisses has you moaning soft sighs into each other's mouths, and Luigi seamlessly slips his tongue over yours. Your lips crash with his over and over, and you pull away only for a moment after he groans at the sensation of you tugging his hair a little too hard.
"Sorry," you laugh softly, but he shakes his head, lips already bruised with the fade of your earlier lipstick.
"Shh—it was hot. Come here," he murmurs.
Your whole body flutters with a burning heat at his words, the low tone of his voice, and then his lips are back on yours, manoeuvring you to the side where his bed meets the wall—partly in the passion of your kisses, but majorly all to do with maintaining his dignity in being careful not to climax too prematurely at the feel of you on top of him. As quickly as he shifts your position, his hand moves to the small of your back to guide you forward, further into him, keeping you comfortable.
Tongue wrestling with yours, Luigi's free arm comes to hook itself under your thigh, pulling your leg over his own. You make a strangled moan into his mouth, louder than expected, because the movement is so sudden, his arm and his grip so strong, and oh, how much better would that same movement feel if he was inside you, at the same time? All of your senses are at their utmost height now, and you don't miss the accidental ghost of his fingers over one of your breasts. He hesitates to squeeze, because Luigi, ever the gentleman, would rather skim over a sensitive area than make you feel uncomfortable without clarifying each boundary first. It's something you appreciate so much about him, but it's also all the more reason why you need to talk with him tonight. Now.
You pull away quickly, and he misses the cue, going in for a soft peck instead of stopping with you. You giggle against his lips, holding the side of his jaw with one hand. With a sweet kiss to his cheek, you pull back properly, your other hand moving to the back of his neck.
"Lu, I need to talk to you about something," you whisper, trying to keep your tone of voice as light-hearted as possible, but his brows furrow in concern nevertheless.
"Is there something wrong?" Luigi asks, continuing that soothing rub of his thumbs over your skin.
"No," you smile, and press a kiss to his nose. You often find yourself kissing every crevice of his face whenever you're in such close proximity, and you feel as though it's sort of ridiculous how almost childishly obsessed you are with your boyfriend at twenty-one years old, but the requited infatuation is an objectively beautiful thing.
"It's quite the opposite, actually," you add. Looking into his still-confused hazel eyes, you take a deep, anticipatory breath, and then you're smiling in amusement again. "This might sound silly to, uh, formally bring it up this way, because we could just do it in the heat of the moment, and I don't even know why I'm really asking, but—"
Luigi's eyes light up in understanding, and then he's sporting a boyish, almost shy smile. "You're referring to sex, yeah?"
You both bite your lip at the same time, and you breathe out a laugh in relief that you're on the same page. Of course you are, but it feels strange that it's taken so long for the moment to realise itself. You could've slept together on many occasions in the recent weeks, but there was never enough time, or somebody else was there, or you had too much studying to do. No, of course you don't actually need to ask him to have sex with you, but you've been aching so desperately for him to have his way with your body, to feel him as thoroughly and as deeply as possible—to feel as close to coalescence as is humanly possible. You haven't ached so hard for a man in a long time.
"Yes," you reply, still smiling, still gazing into his warm, gentle eyes. "And I'm ovulating, so..."
"So we definitely need a condom, then?" Luigi teases, raising his brows. He picks up your hand to interlace your fingers with his.
You roll your eyes vivaciously. "I'm on the pill. And I meant... I'm ovulating, so I really need you. Like, badly." Your eyes squint a little as if trying to portray to him the ache of your arousal, then you look to your interlaced fingers, and your heart beats a little faster.
"Right," Luigi nods, a smirk playing on his lips, even as internally, his half-excitable, half-anxious nervous system betrays him. "So, you need me tonight? Now, yeah?"
"Mhm," you breathe; the sound comes out high and soft, and the frequency goes straight through Luigi as he begins to really feel the effects of his own arousal, cock stiffening and forming a tent to stretch the fabric of his Calvins beneath his sweats. You're none the wiser to how he's feeling, and you're much too concerned with your own insatiable needs at the moment. Your desire becomes even more insistent the longer you look into his eyes.
Luigi's thumb habitually rubs circles over your knuckles, and your lips meet again for a slow, warm kiss. After you pull away, you take each other in for another moment, and then his arms are suddenly tugging at your waist again, a playful glint in his eye. And as if by telepathy, your own pupils mirror his. Your heart stutters in your chest.
He leans forward to whisper in your ear, and before he even utters a word, his hot breath provokes a strong electrical signal down your spine, that you shake off with a deep breath. You need him so badly, and, sneaking a glance to the crotch of his sweats, the sight of his size has your aching nerves much pleased. You open your mouth to make a comment—something about the tent in his sweats, or maybe to tell him to hurry up and do something; you're not actually sure what it is you want to say—and at that moment, he whispers. The sweet vibration of the words—that beautiful deep voice—hits your left ear.
"What position do you want?"
The words send a strong heat to your core, and you choke out a surprised laugh, a wide smile spreading across your face. He leans back from your ear to face you again, expression one of awaiting response, a slight smile playing on his lips, and you're practically nose-to-nose in the cramped space.
"Luigi..." you laugh softly.
He squeezes your hand, still moving his thumb over your skin, and the two of you both feel your cheeks heat up at once. Then, he's lifting his head to give a subtle nod, raising his brows to teasingly provoke you to answer.
"Baby..." he mocks you gently.
You're somehow smiling even wider now, excitable at the mere sight and feel of him, and without thinking you reach your free hand—the one not holding his—to grip the size of him through the soft cotton of his sweats. He's fully hard now—rock hard—and there's no hiding it. He blushes instantly and bites his lip, looking down at where you're gripping him. The two of you are still closely pressed together, and you sneak a quick look.
Your eyes widen immediately at the sight, and you bring your hand back. "Oh my God..."
You both laugh again quietly. Your boyfriend is incredibly well-endowed. Possibly too much so, and you wonder if tonight's experience will succumb unexpectedly to in fact more pain than pleasure. Can your body stretch so much to accommodate him? Are you even wet enough? You'd thought so of course, but now you're wondering if you might need lube, after all.
You bring yourself back into the moment, back to his heart-eyed gaze.
"Pay attention," he smirks, holding your wrist now. "How do you want me, baby?"
You roll your eyes with an amused sigh. "Luigi, you're huge."
You watch a flush rise to his cheeks at your brazenly forward observation, and you both can't seem to stop giggling between yourselves. It's unusual for you to feel so shy with each other.
"You'll be okay. We can start slow," he says softly, with a sincerity that nevertheless possesses a subtle egotism at your compliment. You're getting lost in the brown and the slightly green shades in his eyes again when he lowers his head to duck into your neck. His lips rest at the top of your shoulder, where he presses the first kiss. You shudder slightly, and resume the interlacing of your fingers from where his hand had been holding your wrist.
"Now," he mutters against your skin, his mouth on you muffling his speech. "You said you need me badly?" Another kiss, wetter and harsher, into your clavicle. "Hm?" A squeeze of your fingers, a bite at the upper right side of your neck.
"Yeah—mhm," you breathe out. You're unusually nervous now, and you're not sure whether it's Luigi's size, his words, or the intimacy of the moment itself, but it's a strange apprehension which you can't exactly place.
"Then tell me how you want it," Luigi whispers aside two more wet neck kisses.
He tangles one of his legs between yours, and just as before, his fingers drag over your clothed chest—this time, he squeezes. Your body responds with a slight jerk and a high, breathy moan. Your free hand goes to the back of his head, on instinct guiding him further into you. He kisses and bites and licks, waiting for you to talk, and begins a steady movement over your breast, a massage over the fabric that sends jolts of electricity through you, as intended.
"Mm... fuck—um..." You can't get out any coherent speech as Luigi continues to work at your skin, but your panties are completely soaked now, the wet fabric sticking uncomfortably to your folds, and you can't stand to waste any more time.
"Yeah, baby? Tell me." The hand massaging your breast slips under the hem of your hoodie again, and you find that an accidental moan slips out at the mere feel of his warm hand on your bare midriff. He pulls back to face you, and his lips press against yours softly and slowly, once more. You finally remember how to speak.
"Fingers, first..." you whisper, and then laugh under your breath. "You'll probably break me without foreplay."
"Yeah, probably." Luigi smiles, and a pleasurable heat creeps into his skin at the shyness in your voice as you speak about his size. "Inside, or do you want me to rub your clit?"
You blush instantly. Thank God you're finally doing this with him. You bite your lip and bat your lashes.
"Both, please," you respond innocently, as casual as though you're informing him which flavour of ice cream you're in the mood for. To the contrary, the thoughts running through your mind are far from wholesome.
Luigi laughs, and you find yourself laughing again too. Somehow the night is both sweet and sexy, both shy and controlled. You're both more than ready to have sex with each other, but there is something much different about this, something you've never felt with the other men you've been with. You recognise the unfamiliar feeling as a sign—a signal of your relationship despite only being just less than three weeks in. Love—no, that's too soon. But definitely something close to it.
Before you can say another word or exhale another anticipatory breath, Luigi is shifting his position. He suddenly sits up against the headboard, sets those gorgeous forearms under your legs, and pulls you up onto his lap sideways. You squeal in surprise again, and neither of you can wipe the infatuated smiles off your faces.
He kisses your cheek and wraps two strong arms around your waist. "You comfy on me?"
"Mhm," you hum, and bring your hand to his cheek as you kiss him softly. You're wanting to savour the moment, while equally impatient for him to satisfy your arousal. "You don't want me to straddle you, or lay back?" you ask.
"Shh—just want you on me like this for a minute." He kisses your jaw, one hand rubbing your upper thigh over your sweats. "Take off your sweats for me."
His words make you clench your thighs together without thinking, and he laughs forward into your shoulder. Still blushing hard, you start to tug down your sweats as quickly as is possible when you're sat in a man's lap. Luigi keeps pressing small kisses to your shoulder and jaw, and you feel a warm shiver at each one. When the fabric reaches your ankles, you tug them off completely and throw them to the floor. Then you turn to face Luigi, whose hand has wasted no time creeping into your inner thigh.
"Lu..."
His eyes are fixed on your pastel pink panties, adorned with a white bow in the centre. He bites his lip, and you watch his eyes roll into the back of his head at the mere sight. You look down to follow his line of vision, and sure enough, the fabric is completely soaked.
"Fuck," he mutters, and slips his hand between your panties and his sweatpants, to feel the wetness that would inevitably leak through to his own sweats if he were to leave it a moment longer. He moves his middle finger over the huge wet patch, and you suck in a careful breath.
"Mm..." you moan involuntarily.
"You weren't lying when you said you needed me," he chuckles, with a kiss to your neck. You smile, and then he pulls his hand away. "Now sit in between my legs—I'll get you ready for me."
You shift positions, and quickly your back is flush to Luigi's chest, his legs on the outside of yours, caging you in with his limbs. You blush and lean your cheek into his shoulder, much like a puppy might comfortably lean into the palm of a hand they feel safe with. He caresses your hips and kisses your neck.
"You're blushing," he accuses.
"I'm not," you lie through a light laugh. "Not really..." Your lips move into a teasing pout. Luigi squeezes your cheek playfully and you turn to look up at him to squeeze his own in return. "Stop it, Mangione."
He smirks and kisses your cheek. Then you turn back to face ahead, and his hands creep into your inner thighs again.
"Okay, let's get these off."
"Lu..." you giggle at his straightforwardness.
"What?" Another soft neck kiss. "Off, please."
You bring your knees up and pull your panties down your thighs and calves, down to your ankles where, with a flick of your foot, you kick the soaked fabric off the bed.
"Only bad thing about this position is I can't see all of you," Luigi says in your ear. "But I want to make you feel good like this, okay? Lean back into me—get comfortable, baby." Of course Luigi would take this much care, and you silently thank the universe he's yours.
Now you do as he says, leaning back against his chest. You crane your neck a little to look up at him looking down at you, and a wide smile spreads across both of your faces.
"Kiss me, handsome," you say.
And he does—he kisses you soft and slow, his right hand finding your wet folds, while his left finds your left fingers, intertwining them. Your kiss is lengthened and serene, and his lips break from yours to whisper against them.
"Look at that—you're so wet for me."
"Mm, all for you." You shift your weight a little to get completely comfortable against his chest. You squeeze his hand, and speak again. "Lu, your dick is pressing against my lower back. You sure you're not straining too hard?"
"I'm fine," he laughs. "And I'll be doing the talking now."
"Oh, you will, sir?" you mock.
"Shh," he chuckles, then smacks your clit lightly but emphatically. You laugh in shock and squeeze his hand harder.
"Fuck, Luigi—"
"Aren't you feeling hot in that hoodie?" he asks, while rubbing two fingers through your wetness. "Might wanna take that off too." And he's right—you realise the room is no longer as cold as it had been earlier. You have hormones and the heat of Luigi's chest to thank for that.
You smirk at his eagerness and tug the material over your head; now you're wearing nothing but a lace pink bra. The earlier cold could've definitely been helped with another layer, but now, the two of you are both glad of your decision to go without. Still though, you start to feel a little exposed suddenly, even though he's not actually facing you yet, and you place one arm across your stomach.
To your surprise, Luigi notices in his peripheral, even while his pupils are fixed on your soaked, swollen folds that he's still softly sliding his index and middle fingers through. "Hey, no, don't do that," he murmurs against your ear. "I'm your boyfriend. I need you to give me all of you."
His fingers finally move to your clit, done with the teasing, and your breath hitches at both his touch and his words.
"You're fucking beautiful, baby. I can't wait to have you underneath me while I love on every inch of your body."
"Luigi..."
"I want to make love to you so badly."
"I want you to take me, Lu... I don't think I've ever felt this way for anybody."
He makes out with your neck for a few moments, pressing harder—just perfect—over your clit. "Me too, baby. Just need to give you an orgasm like this first, to get you ready."
"Lu, um, you know, I've never..."
"Hm?" His fingers move slightly faster, and you find yourself unconsciously writhing your hips on the sheets. With every movement of your body, you feel the slight friction of his clothed cock pressing up against your spine. It only makes you even more insatiable.
"I mean—a guy has never... uh, made me come this way before."
"Not from clit stimulation?"
"Not from g-spot stimulation either. I've done it myself... oh, mm, that's so good—" You cut yourself off for a moment due to the pleasure—Luigi chuckles in your ear at that—and then you continue, through small gasps. "I've done it myself, but it took quite a while and, I don't know, maybe it'll always be like that for me, but—"
He raises his brows, but you can't see. "You should've met me earlier, then."
You laugh softly. "You gonna teach me everything you know, baby?"
"Mhm," he murmurs into your hair, and presses a kiss to your cheek. You moan, higher than before, as he rubs his fingers much faster now, and slips one of them down toward your entrance.
"Mm—inside, Lu, please, fuck..."
Luigi doesn't waste another moment before slipping his middle finger inside you, the intrusion making a filthy squelching sound that sends a molten heat through your body. Even the one finger is a stretch though, and your warmth tightens around it before consciously relaxing to accommodate.
He knows not to push too far, and over your clit he replaces his index with his thumb, rubbing small circles that make you want to bite his fucking shoulder. You're moaning probably a little too loud now, considering you're in a dorm complex—although you're not thinking about that at all in this moment—and finally, Luigi thrusts his finger, perfectly paced, to hit your g-spot at first try.
You're in shock, but logically, with those long fingers, it would've actually been difficult for him not to find your spot so quickly. And, you should've known a gamer would be this good with his hands.
"Mm, fuck—Lu, shit, how did you do—ohh, my God—"
You realise this should be the point where you stop trying to form complete or coherent sentences, because now, in equal pace to the thumb on your clit, his long digit is thrusting in and out of your pussy, covered in your juices, assaulting your g-spot with a somehow careful roughness. And you receive soft, sweet nothings in your ear.
"Yeah, does that feel good, baby?"
"That's the spot, hm?"
"You're so beautiful in my arms..."
"You sound like an angel. My baby girl... don't hold in a single moan, please."
And you can't hold them in even if you tried. Especially not when he's speaking to you like this, in a way you both hadn't approached together until tonight. The thought of being his girl has your heart aching in your chest, and you start to feel somewhat crazy for feeling this hard only three weeks in.
His next words break you out of your thoughts. "Gonna try another finger now, okay? Tell me if it's too much—you're so tight, I don't want to hurt you."
Luigi kisses your cheek several times quickly, and teases your entrance with his ring finger, but he doesn't push in yet. Instead, he whispers to you again, while his thumb keeps a steady rhythm on your clit, middle finger still thrusting, but much slower now.
"You know," he says in your ear, kissing the lobe. "I'm glad we've waited. Even though I've wanted you so badly this whole time... sex is a big thing for me."
Immediately after hearing those words, a rush spreads through your body and pulses through your clit. Your boyfriend is heaven-sent.
"I can't have it casually," he continues, "and I don't even like quickies or anything. I like to take my time, and make sure my girl feels as perfect as possible."
He presses two kisses to your cheek, and you tilt your head to look at him in complete awe. You don't know what to say. His fingers still pleasure your sensitivity, leaving your mouth agape in both emotion and bliss.
"And this girl right here in my arms..." he begins, tone both sincere, soft, and now slightly playful as he peppers your face in kisses and rocks you slightly; somehow never faulting pace down below. "Is so incredibly beautiful. I need her to know that, so..." he speaks low, finally pushing in his ring finger, to which you react with a sharp gasp, and squeeze his hand tighter, turning your head back to centre.
"Shh," he coos, beginning a rhythm of thrusts with his two digits. His thumb still flicks perfectly over your clit. "So... when we make love, this girl is going to know exactly just how she makes me feel. She'll know exactly how beautiful she is."
"Luigi..." you moan, and you're not sure whether it's his words or his fingers affecting your senses more.
"You close, baby?" His fingers are working impossibly faster now, curling up inside you at a rate that has you squeezing all of your muscles together.
"Mhm, oh my—fuck, baby, yeah, I'm close—"
"That's it..." he speaks muffled, his lips on your neck again. "Hey, baby, don't tense your muscles. Relax and let it happen. Want you to come for me, that's it..."
As if on cue with his words, your vision almost goes white and your toes curl, hips arching off the bed as your orgasm finally overtakes you, the hot pleasure piercing through your body. You're squeezing Luigi's hand with a strength that you want to apologise for, and he's kissing all over your neck and your shoulder, between whispers in your ear as his fingers fuck you through the waves of your release.
"Perfect, baby... you did so well for me... just breathe, keep holding my hand..."
You're in a daze almost, and at this stage you can't even imagine how good the sex is going to be. But you remember his size, and a shiver of apprehension exerts itself at the same time. He slips out his two fingers, and you whimper at the loss of contact.
Many moments pass and you're still dizzy, still reeling from the after-shocks, and you realise Luigi is still kissing your upper body, wherever he can reach. There probably isn't an inch of the skin available to him in this position that he hasn't touched with his lips. And then he's gesturing with your chin to make you face him again. His eyes look dazed, in their characteristically warm and cosy hazel, and as you're getting lost in the colour, he lets go of your hand and gently tilts your head back with one hand so that from his chest you're looking up at the bottom half of his face, his palm on your jaw, fingers on your chin to guide the movement. His thumb rubs your skin softly, and he kisses your nose once in admiration.
"You want me to take you now?"
"God, yes."
He laughs softly, and taps your back to initiate movement, guiding you to sit up. Then he wraps his arms securely around your waist, the sudden pressure making you laugh in surprise. He kisses your shoulder. "Lay back," he orders gently.
Luigi swings his legs around to the edge of the bed and stands up while you reposition yourself, because this unfortunately sized piece of furniture involves a lot of manoeuvring of bodies. Nevertheless, it doesn't take you long to get comfortable on the pillow set warmed thoroughly by Luigi's body weight, and in moments you're lying there, looking ahead at your boyfriend beside the bed who is about to take off his sweatpants—finally.
You're almost drooling with delight as you take in the size of his huge cock in his pants, and you have no idea how he managed to keep it at bay while pleasuring you. You bite your lip and watch him fiddle with the waistband, before he quickly tugs the sweats down and off. His hoodie comes off next, then the graphic t-shirt underneath, so that he's now left clad in only a pair of light grey Calvin Kleins, the material incredibly tight in its struggle to hold his swollen length. Precum beads on the cotton where his tip rests, and you blush at the sight.
Adorably enough, Luigi blushes too, the second he looks up and sees you staring at him. His mouth forms a crooked close-mouthed smile, and he blushes harder. "You're staring," he observes.
You raise your brows, resting further back into the pillows. "Yeah," you laugh softly, and then your voice goes to a quiet murmur. "Need you."
Luigi nods, as if in understanding, then smiles and takes off his boxers. Your breath catches in your throat when, beneath a prominent v-line and a mound of curly, dark pubic hair, his naked cock appears in your vision, heavy and leaking, the tip a gorgeous pink, and you immediately decide the length must be at or around eight inches.
You're just beginning to admire the two thick veins that run up the sides of his shaft, when he turns around to pull open his bedside drawer. The sight of his ass alone has you squeezing your thighs together. You feel like an insufferably horny teenage girl, and after tonight, you don't know how you're going to be able to tear yourself away from him.
You notice he's getting something out of the drawer. "Oh, Lu, it's fine, I told you I'm on the pill so we don't need anything. I'm clean so, as long as you are too?"
"Yeah, I'm clean. But I'm getting lube," he answers as he picks up the bottle and turns to face you. "This," his eyes gesture downward, "isn't gonna fit easily, especially being our first time together."
You giggle, and understand immediately. "Yeah, I've had my concerns."
Luigi smiles, half-amused and half-comforting, and then he smirks. "You want to put it on for me?"
"Yes." Your eyes light up, and then you sit up against the headboard, taking the bottle of lube in one hand and his cock in the other. He hisses at just the feel of your first touch. You stroke him a few times to tease, and the most beautiful low moan sounds from his throat. Then you lean forward to press a kiss to his leaking tip, and gladly taste the salty precum. Luigi bites his lip, wincing in pleasure even at such soft touch, and you can tell he's aching. You're both equally as desperate. So, you speed things up slightly. You squeeze a very over-secure amount of the liquid into your right hand, and then begin lathering it over the thickness of his member.
Something stands out for you instantly—Luigi doesn't hold in any of his moans. They're soft—low and masculine while slightly whiny and breathless, a small restraint to their production but mostly released without shame. He wants you to hear how he feels, just as he wants the same of your moans for him. You apply more pressure, squeezing, and he lets out a deeper sound, if animalistic could still sound heavenly. Admittedly, you're taking more time than you need to simply lather lubrication, but you love the feel of his huge, hard cock in your soft, dainty hands.
He brings you out of your daze eventually.
"You having fun down there?" Luigi teases. You look up at him quickly, eyes wide, to see him smirking at you again. You blush, slowing your hand movements. You realise you must have been touching his cock like a plaything, or the sweetest candy you're fighting the temptation to indulge in.
"No, don't stop on my account," he adds. "I just didn't plan on coming yet. Not until I'm inside you."
You blush harder, and take your hand away. The two of you exchange an eager, anticipatory glance, and Luigi still can't wipe the boyish smile off his face as he climbs back into bed, ready to position himself over you. You had sat up to apply the lube, and now you're getting cosy lying back against the pillows again, hair sprawling over the linen.
Luigi leans over you and kisses you slowly, hand on your jaw. And then you're staring at each other, for what feels like a beautiful lifetime, until he speaks again.
"You need to, uh... you're probably gonna need some lube, too—just in case. I'll do it for you."
"Okay, yeah, you're probably right," you respond with a smile, then take a deep breath. The words are almost clinical—you've never prepared so much for sex before—but every second of this is beautiful. Romantic and caring, as you expected from Luigi, but the reality is multiplied by one hundred. And oh, does he look so strikingly gorgeous above you. It's mostly dark, but the low light illuminates his features so perfectly.
He picks the bottle up and squeezes a fair amount into one hand. You get lost in admiring his biceps, the vein running along his forearm, and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes level, instead of sneaking peeks down to where you really want to stare. Lost in the sight that beholds, you blink hard when you feel two calloused fingers at your folds, cold with liquid. And Luigi is gazing down at your pussy, lip between his teeth, pupils dilated, as if taking in the eighth wonder of the world. He spreads your folds with his fingers, while you try not to moan at such basic and light touch, and ensures that your vulva is smothered in liquid, though most of it is your natural wetness. He rubs his thumb over your clit, and your hips jerk in reaction. You're so sensitive now after that first orgasm, and you grip his forearm in need.
"Lu." You give him a jokingly stern look.
"Hm?" He raises his brows faux-innocently, and too enticed by the sight of your puffy, glistening folds just visible under the light of the lamp.
"I need you to fuck me or I might go insane."
"Insane, huh?" He smirks as he adjusts his position, now directly over you. "I hope I live up to expectation."
"Oh, I'm sure you will," you smile bashfully, and he does too, those beautiful dimples so prominent on his cheeks.
"Wait, hold on just another second, baby—let me take off your bra."
You roll your eyes playfully, and in fact, you'd actually forgotten you were still wearing your bra. Understandably, you'd been distracted by several other elements of your situation.
Each thing Luigi does with you—every movement, every word, every look—is so romantically calculated, so devoted and careful. He's completely in awe of your entire body, and it shows in each gesture. Now, you adjust yourself just slightly to allow him access to your upper back, and with practiced care he unclasps the last piece of fabric. You let the straps fall down your shoulders, and again, like earlier when you removed your hoodie, you feel a similar wave of anxiety. It's only small, and you feel so safe and secure with your boyfriend that it isn't a real worry, but the feeling is there, naturally, and with it comes the urge to cover yourself, so you do, before you even realise. You place an arm instinctively over your breasts, and hope that to Luigi the action looks some form of casual, but casual or not, he wants to see all of you, and he's going to make sure you feel completely comfortable with him before making any further move.
Before saying anything, he gently takes your wrist covering your right breast, and looks directly into your eyes for permission. "I want to see all of you, baby. Let me?"
You take a deep breath and hold eye contact. Your heart is fluttering and dancing in your chest, and suddenly you're overcome with such a feeling that your insecurity becomes an afterthought. You look down at his hand, unmoving to let you work through everything at your own pace. You feel the warmth of his fingers caressing your wrist-bone, and start imagining the warmth of the rest of him, how utterly safe you'll feel when he's finally inside you. Slowly but assured, you move your arm from your chest to reveal your breasts to him. His gaze flicks to them instantly, and his eyes clamp shut in the pleasure of just being able to see the beauty in front of him.
Thinking about it now, you had expected him to be a boob guy—nerds usually are. He's already imagining how he'll take care of them while he fucks you, how he'll get to cover them in bruises while you moan in his ear.
"Fucking perfect... so pretty..." he whispers, and you assume he doesn't even notice he's thinking out loud, because he seems to be talking more to your breasts than to you.
To snap him out of his daze, you lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, crossing your ankles. You laugh when he blushes as he finally shifts his gaze from your chest to your eyes. Your fingers thread into his curls.
"You got a good look there, handsome?"
"I could look for longer." He smirks and takes his cock in one hand, placing his other hand on your hip. There's a silence as he moves the right amount closer and positions himself at your entrance. You keep your gaze on the hard muscles of his upper half, not wanting to make yourself tense with the sight of his swollen tip poking your sensitivity.
"Fuck, Lu..." you moan as he rubs up and down your folds with his member, and you grip his bicep tight, nails digging in so that he hisses with the pleasure of the light pain.
"I'm gonna push in now, okay? Hold my hand, baby, that's it..." He takes the hand not digging into his skin, and interlaces your fingers with him as before. "I need you to tell me exactly how you feel. I'll move at your pace."
"Okay," you breathe out, and try to relax all your muscles. Then you feel the head at your entrance again, and after a couple more strokes along your folds, Luigi finally pushes in with a low, gratified moan.
"Fuck, you're so tight, baby..."
At the feeling, you tense immediately—involuntarily no matter how much you'd tried to prepare your muscles to relax—and Luigi's free hand moves to the back of your neck to hold you secure. His thumb rubs the skin, but you can't feel the comfort, because even at the intrusion of just the tip, the stretch borders on excruciating. You bite your lip hard, squeeze his hand and his arm tighter, and try to ease yourself through the pain.
"Are you okay?" Luigi asks, a concerned expression over his face even though he knew this would definitely hurt you at first.
"Yeah, uh," you gasp and laugh a little. "It's the initial stretch—I'll be okay. Push in a little more, Lu, it's fine." So wholly and completely do you want to feel him, but it's a harrowing stretch, and your tight muscles are doing their best.
"Okay," he answers, chewing the inside of his cheek in concentration. He pushes another inch into you, and your breath hitches into a high, affected noise.
"Baby." He gazes at you, still holding your neck and your hand. "I'm gonna rub your clit to help ease it, alright?"
"Mhm, okay." You try to steady your breathing. And then he leans his head forward, pressing wet tongue kisses along your neck, earning himself the pleasure of soft moans from your throat. A moment later, his thumb finds your clit, and in time with his neck kisses, he circles the bud of nerves while easing slowly into you further.
"Oh shit, Lu..." you gasp, squeezing his hand so tight.
"That's it, baby, take me. You're doing so well, just a little more."
He continues his sweet assault of kisses from under your ear to your collarbone, and keeps the clit stimulation minimal, so as to not overwhelm your senses. Then, just as he pushes in almost the whole way, his lips drag down to your left breast and attach onto your erect nipple.
"Oh, fuck—" you whine, one hand grabbing at his curls. "Baby—"
Luigi swirls his tongue, sucking as he holds you through the pain. The distraction is working—your muscles are beginning to consciously relax as he's attending to other parts of your body, and your legs tighten around his waist in need. He pulls his face from your chest, and leans over to your ear, one hand moving to fondle your breast.
"That's it, sweetheart," he whispers, nose buried in the scent of your hair falling over your shoulder. "Hold on to me, I've got you."
"Lu... it, uh, it still hurts a little," you say, embarrassed, and a shy laugh slips out. "I've really never been with a guy anywhere close to your size."
He presses a kiss to your shoulder. "I'll stop whenever you want."
"No," you hum, moving one hand to grip his curls tight, clamping your eyes shut as the sting continues. "I'm okay, and you're going as slow as I need."
"Okay, just a couple inches more..." he mutters, continuing his kisses from your shoulder to your collarbone now, while his hand squeezes and massages one breast at a time. Your moans are high and beautiful, and you alternate between squeezing tight his hand and his hair, as he eases himself further and further into you.
"Still painful?" he asks.
"Just a little. It's good to feel you like this, though. The pressure's good—I can feel you everywhere."
"Yeah, me too—fuck, you feel perfect," he moans, and kisses from your jaw up to your cheekbone. You sigh another moan as he finally bottoms out and leans back a little, and you both take a very deep breath. In anticipation, you look up to meet his eyes to find they're already fixed on you. He's biting his lip, pupils dilated.
"Pretty," he murmurs, mostly to himself. "You okay, baby?"
You blush profusely, and instinctively look away. The pressure inside you is immense, and the way he's looking at you makes it impossibly more so.
Before either of you can say another word, Luigi leans forward again and begins to pepper kisses all over your face. You giggle, startled, and with a hand to the back of his head, your other still enveloped in his, you without even thinking pull him closer to you, humming and laughing at his warm attack on your skin.
"Beautiful girl—you're so fucking beautiful..."
"Baby..." you whisper as he slows his kisses, and you scratch the nape of his neck in content. He pulls his head up to make direct eye contact again, and you just look at each other for a moment. There's a small, adorable smile on both of your faces, and as you're staring so closely at him, you don't even think before laying a delicate kiss on the button of his nose. His sweet laugh in reaction sends butterflies through your chest. And then he's picking up your enveloped hands, bringing them to his lips to press a kiss on the knuckles, never losing eye contact.
You look down at where the two of you meet, where your tight pussy envelopes his thick length. Your eyes get lost in the sight, and suddenly Luigi snaps you out of it. You've broken each other out of a lot of dazes tonight. He tilts your chin up with two fingers so that you're looking at him again. You're both blushing and staring at each other, him pulsing deep inside of you, waiting for one of you to say something.
"Hi." Luigi smiles wide and gorgeous.
You squeeze his fingers. "Hi."
"How do you feel now, sweetheart?"
Your chest flutters, and the feeling goes straight to your core, too.
"Like I need you to start moving. I'm ready." You shift your hips to encourage him, the need steadily becoming animalistic. "God, I'm so ready—please fuck me, Luigi."
"Yeah?" He raises his brows, still not moving yet. He again places his hand firm on the back of your neck, the other holding your hand securely.
"Yes," you respond impatiently, gazing sincerely into his eyes.
"Oh yeah?" he teases, and at the last syllable, enacts the first slow thrust.
"Fuck—" You moan high and loud, the pressure and the heat feeling as though a slice of heaven has entered your body.
Luigi's eyebrows stay raised, lip still bitten in concentration, as he thrusts a second time, just as deep and intense. You feel like you want to scream so you try to restrain yourself, but between the gorgeous man above you and the pressure hitting inside, it's quite difficult to do so. He's holding the back of your neck, holding your hand tight at your hip, keeping eye contact. You can't look away from him—the moment is overwhelming, and following another thrust, his lips suddenly crash onto yours. Your hand pulls at his curls, and you moan passionately into his mouth, while his throat reciprocates a deeper sound into yours. Your tongues find each other's, and your moans harmonise together as he rocks into you. The pleasure is so intense, the fullness so safe and beautiful, that you forget you were even in any pain in the first place.
But of course Luigi still checks on you, because that's who he is. "Baby, you promise me you're okay, yeah? Nothing hurts now?"
"No, Lu, I promise—mm, fuck—the pain's gone. This feels amazing—"
"That's great, sweetheart. Now, is it okay if I touch you here?" As he thrusts deep, the hand on your neck moves carefully, while passionately, to your left breast.
"Yes, baby, please, squeeze my tits—"
"Yeah, like this?" He raises his brows, beginning to knead the tissue as he thrusts.
"Mhm, fuck, that feels so good—"
"And how about here, at the same time?" he asks, beginning to suck the spot under your ear in time now with everything else. He's checking your response like a doctor might perform an exam. After all, nerds like projects, and there's nothing like carrying out a study of female pleasure on the girl you're falling in love with. He's so attentive to each one of your sensations, and he's now worked up to a combination of hitting your g-spot, kneading your breast, while kissing and biting under your ear to affect three erogenous zones at once. Your past hook-ups couldn't even locate the clit on a diagram.
Over the top of all the sensations, Luigi also hardly stops moaning sweet words into your ear. He romances you in a way that feels the certain opposite of performative. He's falling in love with you and he wants you to know.
"You sound and feel like heaven, baby."
"Fuck, I want to be inside you forever."
"Always let me know how you're feeling—tell me if it gets too much."
It never does. Your legs feel as though they keep instinctively tightening and tightening around his waist, and you let go of his hand to allow both of yours to wander freely between his upper back and the crown of his head. Every hit of pleasure led by each precise snap of his hips has you writhing into him, rocking your hips to meet the thrusts. His hand stays kneading your aching breast, and you're sure now that you must be leaving scratch marks all over the skin of his back.
"Luigi," you breathe, pulling away from the kiss to look at him again.
He delivers another intense thrust, then slows, hitting your spot softly as he speaks. "Yeah, baby?"
"I've never felt this good in my whole life."
He smiles crookedly, then kisses your nose, still playing with your breast while caressing your thigh now. He maintains a serene pace, slow and not as deep, wanting to keep this going for as long as he can manage.
"Me too. You're perfect. You look so fucking beautiful like this and—fuck, come here—"
The last words accompany another deep thrust that almost renders you breathless, and he holds your jaw in his palm, resuming your make out where your lips crash together once again.
You begin to mumble profanities against each other's lips.
"Fuck, Luigi, right there—"
His groan vibrates against you. "That's the spot, I know, baby."
He stops kissing you to attach himself to your neck instead, and every thrust is punctuated with a bite. Your moans are wild, and you do nothing to stop them. You push Luigi's head further into your neck, fingers in his curls to hold him there, and his hand still squeezes your breast. You almost scream when he rolls your nipple between his fingers.
"Oh baby, that's amazing—you're so fucking deep—"
"It's that good, yeah?" He pulls back and cocks his tongue to the inside of his cheek. Now he's facing you again, hand in your hair, hips rolling into yours ever more intense, but you're not even looking at him anymore. You're in a daze, hair sprawled over the pillows, face to the side, thrusting your hips forward to meet his.
"Hey. Baby," he says, tapping your cheek lightly. But you hardly feel it—your body can only register so many sensations at once. Luigi can see how fucked out you are, so he grabs your chin gently and guides you to face him, thumb pressing into your cheek a little.
"Look at me," he orders softly, and you do, having not even realised you'd been looking away, your whole body full of him. Now you stare directly into his eyes, and when his hand moves to your jaw again, soft touch to balance out his hard thrusts, you press a sweet kiss to his palm, while your doe eyes look into his hazy ones.
You notice Luigi's breath hitch at how romantic the gesture, and then suddenly, as if overcome with an even more passionate need, he pulls out of you to change positions. You whine and pout at the confusing loss of contact. "Lu, I was close—"
"No, come here—I need to take you like this," he says lowly, while guiding you forward along the bed, so you're sat up straight, on your knees.
"Luigi, wha—?" you laugh, as he takes both of your wrists in his hands and positions himself on his knees behind you.
"Baby, I need you like this when I cum inside you. I love this position," he explains.
You roll your eyes playfully, amused at his eagerness but also intrigued. You've actually never indulged in this exact position before—you've done doggy of course, but this is different—and when Luigi slides back into you, it feels like nothing else. You moan high and sweet, harmonising with the low groan that pulls from his throat. He takes his time, slowly pushing in until he bottoms out, and it's much easier now with your muscles less tense and your body aching for orgasm, though it is still a tough stretch.
His hands go straight to your hips, pulling you back onto him as he begins to thrust slow and perfectly deep.
"Oh my God," you gasp. "Yes, that's perfect, oh, Lu—"
"Yeah, see, I told you?" He smirks, punctuating the line with another buried thrust.
"Mm, fuck—"
"Have you ever had a guy fuck you like this before?"
You forget to answer. Your eyes clamp shut and your mind goes numb at the feeling.
"No?" he questions, and moves one hand off your hip to move it forward and cover your pussy instead. Two fingers find your clit without him even looking, and your hand reaches back rapidly to grab his bicep. You make a noise close to a shriek.
"Fuck, Luigi, yes—faster, baby, I'm close—"
"I know, sweetheart, I can feel it. You're squeezing me," he whispers in your ear, kissing the erotic zone underneath. He's pounding into you now, and while it's fast and hot, there's a softness in the romance of the position. His free hand leaves your hip to find your left breast, and he kneads the tissue, all while flicking his fingers over your clit and keeping up the pace of his thrusts that almost hit your cervix. It's almost afflictive because of his size, but the bordering on pain is an erotic pleasure in its paradox.
Your head falls back, almost bumping with his, and the movement leaves space for him to manhandle your neck with his mouth. Most of the area is already covered with red marks and soon-to-be bruises, and Luigi doesn't hesitate to add more, in the endeavour to stimulate as many of your erogenous zones as he can at once. Your breasts, your clit, your neck, your ear, that spongy spot deep inside—he has you completely. And you're getting so close now. He's mumbling sweet nothings in your ear in between neck kisses, and you're reaching your hand back to tug on his curls, while you grind down onto his cock. Your other hand holds his wrist that rests on your pubic mound. This moment is the single most sensual and erotic time you've ever experienced, and as you approach climax, you almost don't want to, because you'd live a lifetime in this purgatory between pleasure and release if you could.
His words bring you back to earth. "You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Come all over my cock, baby, come on. Do it with me," he murmurs in your ear, and while you're whining, mouth agape in bliss, he removes a hand from your breast to tilt your chin, once again to have you facing him. He gives you a soft, dimpled smile, and you just stare at him, moans and profanities slipping from your lips as he thrusts into you over and over.
"Baby," you whisper, holding his bicep. "Hold me close while I come."
He nods, biting his lip. You turn to face forward again, neck straining a little from the previous movement, and he releases his hands from you for a moment, before repurposing them to wrap around your waist tight from behind. He presses kisses over your shoulder, and whispers in your ear again.
"Rub your clit for me, baby. I'm so close, I'm holding it until you come."
"Mhm—" You squeeze his hand and use your other to rub yourself, rocking your hips back even harder, grinding almost roughly down onto his cock. You're feverish, your bodily sensations all over the place.
And then suddenly you spasm, your body arching as the pleasure crests. A tremor rolls through you, and at that exact moment, you feel Luigi's thrusts weaken, hot ropes of his seed pulsing into you, as he groans unashamedly in your ear.
"Fuck, baby—you're so beautiful."
"Luigi, baby—" Your words are scattered, just mindless speech, so wrapped up in the all-consuming pleasure as you ride out your high. His thrusts slow to a gradual halt, arms still caging you in safety, and he peppers your shoulders and upper back with warm, soft kisses.
"That's it, beautiful, you did so good for me."
You struggle to catch your breath, planting your palms forward on the bed to bring yourself back to earth. You feel dizzy in the best way, and you're still full of Luigi's softening cock. He kisses a mole on your upper back and slowly pulls out. Being behind you, he manages to hide how much the sight of your pussy dripping with his release excites him, but oh, if you could only see his face. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth, pupils dilated at the sight before him—he'll have to clean his sheets, where the liquid is steadily leaking out of you as you rest on your knees, still trying to regulate your breathing—and then he blinks fast and refocuses. You hear him going over to his dresser to take something out, and then he comes back over to face you, with a wipe in hand. You blush at the sight of his soft cock swinging a little as he moves.
"You like staring at me," he smirks boyishly, and gently taps your thigh to coax you to sit up and spread your legs.
"You're nice to look at," you laugh, repositioning yourself for him.
"So are you."
You watch him lower the wipe to your intimacy, and your heart aches at how attentive he is. He pats over your entrance, jaw tight with concentration—mostly from hoping the sight of you doesn't make him hard again—and then he wipes your inner thighs where his seed had spilled.
"Thank you," you whisper when he's done. He shrugs as if the gesture is the most obvious thing in the world, and throws the wipe in the trash.
You're sitting there, half-lying on his bed, already trying to replay the evening's events in your mind. Your thoughts are slipping, and you shut your eyes in exhaustion. After throwing away the wipe, Luigi comes back to the side of the bed, and to your surprise, leans forward over you and picks you up by the back of your thighs.
"Come here," he laughs, kissing your forehead, and you giggle and squeal while he positions you into a bridal style carry.
"Luigi!" You wrap your arms around his neck and burrow your face into his shoulder to hide the blush he keeps drawing from you so easily. But he won't have that—he's standing up with you in his arms, and he moves your hair out of your face to poke your cheek, adjusting your body in his grip.
"You gonna get me into bed, handsome?"
He raises his brows and whispers in your ear. "Nope. Pee first."
You groan and roll your eyes. "I'm too tired, and I'm cold—I just wanna get back into bed."
He chuckles at the complaining he expected. "Doesn't matter that you're tired, because I'm carrying you to the toilet. You can't argue against that."
"No? I'm still gonna argue," you say, your words muffled into his shoulder as he takes you to the bathroom despite your persistence. And even with your irritation, silently you think to yourself about how much you can't believe that post-sex a man could think about a woman's health before anything else. The idea would've seemed pretty much inconceivable, if not for the fact that your boyfriend was living proof of it, here with you.
He sets you down in front of the toilet, and you both laugh at how silly the situation feels.
"Thank you for dropping me off. How much do I pay you?" you joke, sitting down on the seat. You can't believe you were anxious for him to see you naked less than an hour ago, and now you're both completely naked, where he's literally carrying you to his toilet. It feels like you jumped across a few bases of your relationship in just one night, and it all feels so natural.
"I'll take kisses as payment." Luigi gives you the most romantically cliche response ever, and a smile beams across your face. "Lots of them. You know, to make up for the journey from the bed."
“I’ll give you everything you ask, sir,” you respond breezily.
He chuckles, turning around to go and get back into bed. "I'll be waiting. It's so cold."
"I told you!" you call back.
When you're done washing your hands, you peek out and see Luigi under the comforter again. Your heart warms at how domestic it feels, because he's lying cosy in that tiny bed, waiting for you to come and join him, his messy curls standing adorably on his head. But as you're about to cross over from the bathroom to the bed, it hits you that you're still completely naked, and the feeling is both awkwardness and self-consciousness, because you realise he'll be watching you walk over to him nude from the other side of the room. While you're fairly certain he'll enjoy the view, you'd rather not. Still, there isn't any other way of crossing over, so you decide to quickly skip on your tiptoes over into his bed, and it's absolutely freezing cold, so that's another reason why you need to rush. Luigi is almost entirely covered by the comforter, just the upper half of his face poking out, and you can see the amused look in his eyes, hear the soft laugh. As you reach him, he pulls back the comforter and outstretches his arms, a wide smile on his face; yours too.
"Get in here." He pulls you into his arms, shuffling around to make room for you in the bed, and you're both giggling like children as you settle into the crook of his neck, legs intertwining with his. He pulls the comforter over you both, and wraps his arms around you, letting you snuggle into him.
"Mm, you're warm," you breathe into his skin, relishing in his natural scent that you can't place or define. There's a hint of cedarwood, but you know Luigi never sprays fragrance on his skin so aside from soap, you have him all natural. You burrow your face into him even further and he chuckles, peppering kisses on your forehead.
"You seem to like my neck a lot, huh?" he remarks.
"Mhm, I do," you murmur.
"Hey, look at me," he says into your hair. When you shift to look up at him he's already looking down at you, gazing, and this feels different than any cuddling prior to tonight. It feels like something has shifted—something deeper than the sexual. Because it was how you had sex tonight, not the having sex in itself. He made love to you, and you've never used that term in your life. That is how you know it's different.
You look at each other for what feels like an age, but in reality is just a few moments. He plays with your hair, and your hands rest on his chest. He kisses your nose, and you hum in content. And then he's shifting you so you're lying on your sides face to face, one arm around your shoulder, hand on your thigh. He draws absentminded circles as he speaks.
"How was it for you?" He raises his brows a little, eyes glistening under the lamplight, an expression that infers he's somehow anxious for your response.
"Amazing," you respond with certainty. "No one's ever paid attention to my body in that way before."
Luigi's eyes light up instantly, and he breathes a sigh of relief that he would've preferred to appear much more subtle.
"Why do you look so relieved? I don't think there's a girl on this planet who wouldn't tell you how great you are." He blushes at that, and you giggle. "You're cute, Lu."
"I guess I just overthink things."
"Yes, definitely," you agree with a laugh.
There's a pause, and then he speaks again. "I'm glad we did this tonight."
"Yeah, me too."
"I really like you. And I hope it shows."
Your breath hitches. "I really like you too. I'm really falling for you, Luigi."
He tries to bite back a smile. "I'm glad we're on the same page."
You hold the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss; a soft, slow, brush of lips, lasting for several seconds. Then you're back to gazing at each other again, and he has more to say.
"You were perfect. You felt so good, baby."
You don't know how to respond. You're too close in this tiny bed, nose to nose. He's playing with your hair and you can't stop blushing.
"Pretty girl," he smiles, poking your cheek. "You blushing for me?"
"Lu..." you sigh, burying your face in his neck again. "You flatter me."
He presses a kiss to your forehead and holds you to him. "Just telling the truth. Tonight was like having sex with an angel."
You laugh into his chest, definitely not expecting him to use those words, and interlace your fingers with his. "Now, you're really just trying to flatter me," you joke, but you know from the way he's been treating you all night, from the love in his eyes, that he's not kidding in the slightest.
"Shh, take the compliment, baby," he laughs softly. "I'm telling you how I feel."
You pull back to look at him again, and humorously roll your eyes. There's a break of silence, before you speak again. "You know, I'm surprised we made it fit."
He raises his brows with a chuckle, and starts lightly running his hand up and down your thigh. "You're stronger than you think."
"Yeah, I must be, because I really thought you were going to break me."
He kisses your forehead, and his tone shifts softer. "No, I'll always be careful with you."
All of a sudden you feel butterflies cluster in your chest and down your spine, and you can feel your cheeks heating up again. You decide to make another joke to distract him from your countenance.
"I might want it harder though, sometimes. What will you do about that, Mr. PhD?"
He looks confused. "PH—? I don't have a—"
"Pretty huge dick. That's worth more than any academic success, right?" you tease.
"Oh," he laughs. "Yeah, I've heard that one before."
"Not from another girl, I hope?" You bat your lashes.
"No." He kisses you quickly. "You're the first girl to award me that title."
You smile wide, and lean forward into his warm chest. "Yay."
A couple of silent minutes pass, where you're just touching each other softly, your head buried in his chest, fingers trailing up his bicep and the nape of his neck. His hand stays tracing circles on your thigh, his other in your hair.
You eventually break the silence, with words that come out of your mouth before you can even register their existence in your mind. "Lu, I wanna suck your dick," you mutter into his chest.
Luigi laughs and holds your cheek in his palm, brushing the skin with his thumb. "Tomorrow. You're tired."
You look up at him with doe eyes. "I'm not really that tired, actually," you lie, and you almost forget to hold in the yawn that threatens to betray you.
"Yes, you are," he chuckles. "And we have to get up early tomorrow. Let's go to sleep, baby."
You groan and wrap your arms around his neck in defeat. When you move your body slightly, the adjustment makes your thigh nudge Luigi's soft cock. He makes a low noise in his throat at the touch, and then coughs.
You smirk. "Sorry." It wasn't intentional, but you weren't exactly trying to avoid nudging him, either.
"Now we definitely need to go to sleep before you make me hard again," Luigi says, amused.
You sigh, head against one of his pectorals. "Whatever."
He responds with a light smack to your ass, which makes you grin. And then he murmurs, his chin resting on your head. "Let me spoon you."
You look up and lean back in confusion. "Then your dick is going to be pressed into my ass all night. How will that work for you, Mangione?"
Luigi smirks. "Fine. Like this, then."
You seem to have both wordlessly decided that putting your clothes back on isn't an option, no matter how cold you'll be when you wake up in the morning. And you decide to remain on your sides facing each other, both settling, closing your eyes.
But after a few minutes, you lift your leg over Luigi's thigh to get even closer, and you nudge your nose against his bicep. He opens his eyes, and within seconds you're back to making out—softly this time, humming contently into each other's mouths, tongues caressing, lips moving in lazy rhythm. Slow, unhurried kisses, your hands in his curls.
"We're never gonna get to sleep like this," he laughs softly against your lips, but you silence him with another kiss.
"We're fine. I don't wanna sleep, baby."
So you continue kissing—you don't know for how long—and it's so soft and warm that there's nothing horny about it. You're falling in love, and you can't get enough of this feeling. You wish this moment could last forever.
line dividers by @cafekitsune + sparkle dividers by @leilakittya
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