⋆˙⟡ cockwarming with valko is a bad idea.
for the better part of an hour, he’d been not-so-subtly inching closer to you on the sofa, rubbing your thigh and playing with your hair — anything to get your attention off of the numbers on your computer screen (as if the little whimpers that occasionally slipped out weren’t obvious enough).
“val, you’re not helping…” you sighed.
“i’m sorry.” he didn’t sound it. “just give me five minutes, please. an orgasm’ll help with that headache I can tell you’re nursin’. or…do you not want me?”
he looked so genuinely distraught that you had to scratch him behind the ears. “of course I do, but I also want to be able to sleep for more than three hours tonight.”
finally, you give in (you always do) on the pretense that you’d both get some work done. between val’s newest research project in the experimental phase and your pile of unreviewed investigation reports, there hadn’t been much opportunity for quality time in the past week or so. admittedly, you could use a bit of stress relief, too.
so it was a decent compromise in your mind.
but you should have known better than to think valko, of all people, would be able to focus with his pants hanging around his ankles. from the moment you sank onto his cock, settling comfortably on those plush thighs, he was a distraction — nipping at your neck while his glasses caught in your hair, “adjusting” beneath you, sneaking his free hand between your legs before you swatted it away.
after about twenty minutes, you’ve had enough.
“okay, this is the opposite of productive,” you lift the laptop off your thighs and set it on the couch beside you. “we can try again after I get at least halfway through these.”
but when you try to stand, well…you can’t. a sharp tug on your insides sends a burning sting reverberating through your core, keeping you locked onto him.
“what — how? we weren’t even…moving!” incredulous, you twist around to glare daggers into your boyfriend’s golden eyes, which are far too glazed and self-satisfied for your liking behind his foggy lenses. glutton.
“pup, I’ve been tryin’ not to burst for a while. since I got inside you, even. surprised you didn’t notice.”
huh. guess all that training to take his knot had backfired.
you huff. “well, can you, like, relax? just sit still and think about car accidents or rabies vaccines or something?”
“yeah, no, doesn’t work that way for me.”
“val, I don’t have time for this! my reports are due tomorrow —“
“then,” the word vibrates against your shoulder, followed by wet kisses leaving a shining trail up your throat as he taps your hips like he’s spurring on a horse. “I suggest you get moving, pup. knot’s not gonna go down by itself.”
belatedly, you realize this might have been his plan all along.
