Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x plus size!ofc
Summary: After moving to a new city to start grad school, Tiffany Duke has a chance encounter with the handsome, charming Francisco Morales. Just when she's convinced her infatuation is completely one-sided, she finds out how wrong she was. Little does she know their relationship and the world will change in ways she never could have predicted.
Chapter 1: In my imagination there is no hesitation
Chapter 2: It's a crazy situation
Chapter 3: I dream about you all the time
Chapter 4: Thinking you could be mine
Chapter 5: We walk together hand in hand
Chapter 6: But dreaming's all I do EXPANDED ENDING added July 2025
Chapter 7: If only they'd come true-Coming July 2025!
Chapter 8: You always keep me waiting
Chapter 9: Because it's only make believe
Chapter 10: TBA
Chapter 11: TBA
Chapter 12: TBA
More to come!
Harry Castillo x F!Reader
Who said a transactional relationship had to be a boring one?
Diamond Heart (Benny Miller x sex worker!reader)
Dancin' in Circles (Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!reader)
Javi Peña fucking your missionary, holding your face close to his. You're whining and panting as he thrusts in. He goes to rub your clit, but you whimper, pushing his hand off.
"I know, baby, i know," he coos.
"I cant, javi please, it feels good, i cant cum, i--"
"We're gonna work on it. Together, okay cariño?" Ge grins. His fingers begin nudging your clit again.
You squeeze your eyes shut but nod. "O-okay."
"Thats it... we'll practice until we get it right."
"shhhh," peña whispered, kneading your hips as he rutted into you, broad hand covering the bottom half of your face. "you whine too much and too loud, baby. will you just shut up for once and listen?"
your needy sobs quieted down, just enough for the indecent squelching to fill your eardrums, to ricochet between the walls of the room. jackhammering into you so hard, your mouth shaped a perfect O as you buried your face into the pillow. ass up on display for him, on your fours like a whiny bitch in heat, just for him.
"your pussy is dripping wet, muñeca. sliding into you's never been easier. i'm making a fucking mess of this sweet cunt of yours," he panted behind you, his thrusts powerful and unforgiving. "it's like she's singing just for me."
Chapter Warnings: language, fluff, tw: mentions of prior miscarriage, smut (18+ MDNI), fingering, breeding kink, unprotected piv sex (duh, see prior tag), (a little?) rough sex, oral (f! and m!receiving), pussy pronouns, food and alcohol consumption, Joel can pick reader up, reader has hair, reader wears lingerie, light spanking
WC: 11.3K
A/N: Thank you to everyone who showed me so much enthusiasm and support for this story! I hope you enjoy their final chapter!
Series Masterlist
Congratulations, Mr. & Mrs. Miller!
It's the first thing you saw when you walked into the sprawling estate in Santorini. Joel was behind you, directing the driver on where to put your bags. You had the stupidest grin on your face when you stepped closer to the banner, your eyes drifting over each letter time and time again.
Joel thanked the driver and handed him a folded bill before lifting his sunglasses from the bridge of his nose and looking around.
"Pretty nice," he said, smiling as you twirled around the massive foyer surrounded by two staircases that hugged each wall.
"Pretty nice?" you echoed, stopping in your tracks to face him with a frown. "This place is incredible."
Joel shrugged, shoved his hands in his pockets, and gave the place another once over. "Got a great view," he finally said.
You spun around and looked through the kitchen, where a glass wall gave way to a spectacular view of the Mediterranean Sea.
"Oh, my god," you breathed before running across the house so you could press your face against the window. It was unlike anything you'd ever seen before: endless, gorgeous blue water, dotted with pristine white sails from boats bobbing in the waves. The steep red cliffs bordering the sea were filled with bright white buildings, built stacked on top of each other as the landscape allowed. Some buildings were accented with royal blue roofs, others were flat and square, just like sugar cubes.
It felt like you were visiting an entirely different world.
"I don't think ten days is enough," you breathed, gaze still bouncing around excitedly. Then Joel's arm wrapped around your waist. His fingers splayed wide over your stomach as he pulled you back against his chest. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in deep the scent of your skin before puckering his lips to gently suck a spot on your throat.
"No, it ain't," he replied softly. His lips slowly dragged across your shoulder and you heard the bag he had been carrying drop to the floor so he could circle both arms protectively around your waist.
Your eyes fluttered closed and you tipped your head back.
"I'm getting the feeling we have two very different reasons for wanting to stay longer," you whispered. You reached behind you, sifting your fingers through his mussed curls with a sigh.
"Yeah? How so?"
At the same time, his left hand dropped to tug on the skirt of your dress, inching it up until your entire leg was exposed. You giggled but before you could come up with a witty reply, two thick fingers pressed firmly against your clit through your underwear, making you gasp back the words.
"Hm?" he teased, adoring the way your body obediently melted against him.
You swallowed and tightened your hold on his hair.
"I'm talking aboutâ about seeing the city," you panted, hips rolling forward to match the slow pace of Joel's fingers over your panties. "Anâ And you're talking aboutâ oh!"
You cried out, unable to finish your sentence as he slipped his middle finger inside of you.
"I'm talkin' 'bout what?" he goaded in your ear. His finger curled every time he pushed back inside, making your knees weak and your eyes roll. "Talkin' 'bout fuckin' my wife? Baby, if you thought I wasn't gonna spend every wakin' moment tryin' to get you pregnant, y'don't know me at all."
A second finger joined the first â his ring finger. You could feel the cool metal of his wedding band tapping against your opening every time he snapped his wrist. Your nails roughly dug into his scalp, the tension in your lower belly growing too hot and fast for you to consider if you were hurting him. He hissed under his breath but kept going, pumping his fingers in and out of you with one hand and holding you up with the other.
You brokenly whimpered his name and arched your back, desperate for release. Your ass pushed against the front of his pants and he groaned into your neck.
"Fuck," you whined when you felt how hard he was. "Fuck, Joel, just â just fuck me," you begged, but your eyes were screwed shut and your jaw hung open in bliss.
"Come for me first," he said, slapping the heel of his hand firmly against your clit every time his fingers entered you. Your whole body practically jumped whenever he made contact â you were close. "Open those pretty eyes, honey. Look out there â yeah, there you go." He sounded pleased when your eyes cracked open and you looked back out into the water. "Get a good look, 'cause I ain't lettin' you outta this house for long. Gonna â shit, you're so â gonna make sure we make a baby this time. Gonna be so full of my cum, you ain't gonna be able to walk right."
You gasped and yanked on his hair. He felt your stomach tighten beneath his arm and he smirked against your skin.
"Yeah, don't worry, darlin'. Ain't gotta do nothin' the whole time we're here 'cept lemme take care of you. Okay?"
You nodded dumbly, body jolting in his grip every time the loud smack of his palm against your clit echoed through the room.
"O-Okay," you slurred softly.
He growled and scraped his teeth against the side of your throat. There were fewer things in life Joel loved more than hearing you be so compliant and eager for him.
"Come f'me, baby," he told you between little bites to your neck. "C'mon, make your husband proud 'n let go."
A broken moan fell from your lips as you did what you were told. Your body jerked in his hold and you held onto his hair and arm for dear life as you rode out your climax. All the while, he murmured praise in your ear so the only thing you could hear were his sweet words and the sound of your pussy gushing around his fingers.
"Joel," you breathed, gasping pathetically for air in his arms. But he didn't answer. Instead, he withdrew his fingers rather abruptly, making you wince, but you soon forgot all about it when he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the nearest piece of furniture he could fuck you on, which happened to be the dining room table.
"Spread 'em," he commanded after he laid you on top of the cherry tabletop. Afterwards, you would take note that the set looked extremely expensive and one of a kind â probably not something you should fuck on â but in the moment, neither of you cared. You widened your legs and hiked up your dress as Joel hastily tugged at his belt. His eyes were fixed on you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine â he looked crazed. His lips were parted, face flushed, eyes dark with need as his gaze flickered hungrily between your eyes and your glistening cunt.
"I ain't gonna be gentle," he warned when he finally pushed his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock. You wiggled your hips closer to the edge.
"Good."
Something flashed across his face for a second â a mix of adoration and animalistic need â before he grabbed your hip and lined himself up.
When he slammed into you, it stole every ounce of breath from your lungs. Your back arched off the table and your mouth hung open in a silent scream. Your fingers curled into tight fists at your sides but you fought through the sudden and rough intrusion so you could focus on Joel.
He was breathing heavily, like he had just ran a marathon. The veins in his neck bulged and his face looked hot â he blinked repeatedly as a strangled groan slithered up his throat and past his lips.
"So tight," he whined through clenched teeth. Then he withdrew his hips just to ram back into you with a grunt. You cursed and threw your head back, knocking it against the hard tabletop. He gave you a few more thrusts just like that â a slow withdraw followed by a deep plunge back inside your aching cunt â until he felt he gave you enough time to adjust. Then he started pounding into you at a steady clip so fast that he needed to press your hips down to keep your body from sliding up the table.
The discomfort was temporary and well worth it. It thrilled you to see him so desperate and filled with raw desire. He could tell, too. He could feel it in the way you fluttered around him, so warm and inviting, just fucking begging for him to fill you up.
You whimpered his name and spread your legs wider. It was almost too much to bear, watching him hunched over you like an animal, panting and sweating and cursing like his only purpose in life was to fuck you senseless. Heat coursed through your veins and made your face burn, or maybe it was the embarrassment you felt hearing the noises coming from your mouth with every violent jolt of his hips.
"God, look at you," he groaned. His grip on your waist tightened. "Takin' it so well, baby. Y'still with me?"
You could hear the smirk in his voice. You must have looked wrecked for him to sound so cocky, but you could hardly blame him. All you could offer up was a broken moan in response. Sweat had been collecting at your temples as your muscles began to seize up underneath him.
"Joelâ" you gasped, but every harsh drag of his cock in and out of you left you breathless. It knocked your world sideways and had your legs quivering uncontrollably around his waist.
"You're so perfect, darlin'," he panted, "perfect little wife. Gonna make a perfect little mama next."
Tears burned your eyes, and it wasn't just from the rough snap of his hips against yours.
"Please," you begged, "please, Joel. Iâ I want it."
"I know y'do, baby, I know. Almost there... justâ shitâ"
A ragged groan ripped from his throat as he drove into you harder. Your hands clawed at his arms, desperate for something to hold onto.
"âNeed you to come first," he growled. He watched the way your face twisted underneath him, fighting the flames burning inside you.
"Itâ it's so much, I... I can't," you cried with one tear trickling down to get lost in your hair. You forced your eyes open to plead with him, but his hand was already there, thumb rubbing firm circles over your clit without losing rhythm in his hips.
"You can," he rasped, but it wasn't until he saw that familiar look on your face â the one where your eyebrows raised up and your lips parted in a silent gasp â that he actually believed his own words.
You shattered around him a second later, your orgasm slamming into you just as hard as he had been. The blunt edge of your nails dug into his forearms, sending a sharp bolt of pain across his skin, but he didn't stop. He dutifully fucked you through it, watching your body convulse and fighting back his own release as you moaned his name so beautifully.
"So pretty," he muttered. You looked up at him, eyes heavy, unable to look away from the loose, sweaty curls bouncing against his forehead with every deep thrust. "S-So, so pretty when you come."
His chin dropped to watch the way his cock disappeared inside you, coated in your release. He bit his lower lip to stifle a groan at the sight, but then you whispered his name and his gaze snapped back up to you.
"You promised," you whimpered. He could hear the tension in your voice â you were too sensitive but you were trying to fight through it. "Give me what you promised, Joel," you added, eyebrows pinching together as his cock continued to split you open.
He nodded. "I will," he breathed, hips faltering their rhythm. He swallowed thickly and started to shift your tired body up and down on his cock. "I will. I'llâ I'll give yâ oh, fu-uckâ"
A choked noise fell from his lips and a moment later, his body stilled. You sighed and closed your eyes when you felt his tell-tale warmth flooding your pussy. Your legs trembled against his sides, exhausted from being spread open wide and fucked within an inch of your life. He released your hips so he could grab ahold of each of your ankles, then slowly ground against you with a deep moan. You gasped at his coarse hairs rubbing against your clit, but you were too weak to push him away.
His mouth was on yours a moment later, pressing soft and tender kisses to your lips, bringing you back to life.
"Do you think it worked this time?" you mumbled.
"Maybe," he sighed, resting his forehead against your shoulder. With a soft noise, he pulled out of you, then quickly closed your legs. "Keep it all in there f'me."
You nodded, then winced when you shifted your sweaty back to unstick yourself from the table.
"Please tell me the bedroom is downstairs," you said. Joel chuckled and pushed himself up to stand with a grunt.
"I'll carry you."
You shook your head and tucked your knees to your chest.
"I'll walk. Just... gimme a minute."
Of course, the bedroom was upstairs. But you waited ten minutes to give his swimmers a fighting chance until you stood with Joel's help. Once you made it to the master bed, you just collapsed on top, still clad in your now wrinkled dress.
"I might sleep the rest of the day," you mumbled into the comforter. Your eyes were closed, but you could hear Joel moving around the room.
"Good. That's all you gotta do is exactly what you're doin'. Lemme take care of the rest."
You grinned and rolled onto your side just as he slipped through the doorway to go retrieve your things. You knew what he was really doing â he had said it countless times before you arrived. You were unable to wait til your honeymoon to start, and your failed attempts at trying for a baby for the last couple months since your beach wedding bothered you more than it should, so he was making it his mission to keep you as relaxed as possible after he read that stress could cause complications with conception.
When he returned with your bags, you were already chewing on your lower lip while studying the fertility app on your phone.
"Quit it," he scolded gently after putting your things in the closet.
"I know, I know," you sighed, closing the app and tossing your phone into the bedding.
"It's only been two months," he reminded you, sliding into bed.
"I know," you repeated, suddenly growing extremely interested in your nails. "I'm just worried after what happened."
What happened, meaning the miscarriage you ended up having after you returned from your first trip to Fiji. You didn't even know you were pregnant. Hell, you weren't even technically dating Joel back then. At the time, it didn't bother you too much. But it still managed to leave its mark on you, especially now that you were actively trying to have a baby.
"That was ages ago," he said softly. "And your doc said everythin' looks good. You're puttin' too much stress on yourself."
He was right. When you got your birth control removed after you returned from Fiji, your doctor had assured you once again that plenty of women have miscarriages and go on to have healthy babies.
"But it happened so fast the first time," you pouted, curling into his side for comfort.
"Last few months have been so crazy," he murmured into your hair. His knuckles dragged slowly up and down your arm, soothing you. "It'll happen when it's right."
You sighed and closed your eyes, having no choice but to believe him.
Contrary to what Joel had said on the day you arrived, he did actually allow you to get out of the house and explore the city. Obviously, you had never been to Greece before, so you wanted to see everything. Joel had said he had been once before many years prior, but it was for business so he didn't get to enjoy the country very much. You liked the idea of experiencing something new together, so you picked a few tourist-y things.
Liam had rustled up some plans for you before you left, leaving everything up to you for when you arrived. On his list, he had suggested checking out a charming little area called Megalochori. It wasn't very far from the house you were renting. Once you got down to the village itself and looked up, you could see the perimeter was dotted with mansions nestled in the red cliffs. While exploring the narrow streets, you came to find out the mansions, including the one where you were staying, used to be owned by wealthy wine merchants hundreds of years ago, although obviously updated several times over.
Vinsanto wine was what the town was known for, so you made sure to stop at one of the wineries to try it.
"Mm!" you exclaimed when the sweet wine coated your tongue. You raised your eyebrows at Joel, who looked rather impressed, as well.
"Not bad," he admitted, setting down his glass on the table. "Remind me to buy a case 'n have it sent back home 'fore we go."
You had been ushered out to a spot on the patio, overlooking the breathtaking mountains and sea below. The sun was beginning to dip around that time, taking with it the heat that had sweat dotting the back of your neck all afternoon.
"What time is it?" you asked. Joel raised his left arm to glance at his watch, then cursed.
"Shit. Never changed it from L.A. time," he muttered before searching for his phone. You smiled to yourself, eyes still stuck on the rather out of place accessory on his wrist. It wasn't exactly a Rolex, what with the dark green fabric band and black face, but Sarah had gifted it to him as a wedding present and he hadn't taken it off since.
"Almost seven," he announced after fishing out his phone. He placed it gently on the table and leaned back with a relaxed sigh. He draped one arm around the back of your chair, gaze still glued to the horizon, looking completely at ease.
"Not checking work?" you asked, hiding your smile behind your glass of wine.
"Nope. I'm on my honeymoon, baby." He dragged his eyes off the sea to look at you with a glimmer of mischief. "You're the only thing I'm gonna be focused on for the next week."
"Lucky me," you mused with a playful smile. A delicious looking charcuterie board was placed between you before Joel had a chance to respond with something undoubtably filthy and you suddenly realized how hungry you were.
"So," he began while drizzling some honey over a wedge of brie. "What else are we doin' tonight?"
"I thought we could check out the bell tower before the sun sets," you said, covering your mouth while you chewed.
"What 'bout the Oia Castle?"
"I wanted to visit that around sundown," you told him, "we can go a different day. It's supposed to have the best sunset in the entire world."
"Means there'll be a lot of people there." Joel spread a bit of soft cheese over some fresh bread and then held it out to feed you. You took it between your lips, eyelids fluttering at the richness on your tongue while Joel casually crossed his arm over his lap to hide his reaction.
"Is that a problem?" you asked once you swallowed. Joel shrugged and popped a date into his mouth.
"Just like to have you all to myself."
"You've had me all to yourself several times since we got here," you said, wiggling your eyebrows, making him laugh.
"Still ain't enough," he grinned.
"Good thing we have the rest of our lives, then." Your eyes dropped to look at the gold band wrapped around his finger, a sight that still thrilled you.
By the time you left the winery, it was dusk. The streets were quiet except for the occasional faint hum of music and laughter coming from open windows above you. Joel's hand never left yours as you strolled in silence, breathing in the salty night air. It was so peaceful and serene, you just wanted to keep walking. So, you did. You let Joel lead you through the winding roads, past small businesses that were dark with crooked signs on the door stating their hours, and underneath quaint stone bridges until you paused in front of a brick wall overlooking the sea.
"Wow," you breathed, dropping his hand so you could lean forward onto the wall. The sun had just set. The sky was painted with deep purples, oranges and pinks, the stunning colors reflecting over the water as the moon began to show brighter and brighter above you.
"We gotta come back here again one day," you murmured when Joel positioned himself behind you. His arms bracketed yours and his chin hooked around your shoulder, like he was trying to see the landscape through your eyes.
"Maybe I'll open a hotel here," he replied with a tender kiss behind your ear. His beard tickled and sent a wave of goosebumps across your skin.
"You just can't help but mix business with pleasure," you giggled when his tongue traced the shell of your ear.
"Ain't let me down yet," he replied with one more playful nip to your neck. He pushed off the wall and took a step back, leaving you craving his body heat. When you turned around, a tipsy smile stretching across your face, he had an arm outstretched. His fingers wiggled impatiently, searching for your own. You laced them together and let him tug you forward.
"C'mon. I'm tired," he murmured into your hair. You sighed, lingering for a moment with your face and your free hand pressed against his chest, then forced your heavy feet to move through the darkened streets, back towards the main road that led to the house.
You awoke later than usual the next morning. The time change hadn't quite caught up with you yet, but Joel always seemed to rise with the sun, no matter where he was because when you reached an arm out, hunting for his warmth, his side of the bed was disappointingly empty.
You blinked lazily a few times and yawned before rolling over and looking at the time. A dull ache between your thighs when you moved reminded you of all the ways Joel had taken you over the last few days, the memories filling you with a mix of pain and arousal. Somewhere on the other side of your bedroom door, you could hear Joel's voice talking on the phone. Curious, you slipped out of bed, pulling on Joel's undershirt from the day before, then made you way to the steps.
The two-story foyer made it so you could hear him much clearer before you even descended the stairs.
"...run some numbers, see what it'll look like... yeah. Just keep it between us. No need to get Ross all worked up over nothin'."
You frowned as you followed his voice, wondering why Joel was talking about the CFO of his company. When you found him, he was in the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear and leaning one hip against the counter with his back to you. He didn't hear you enter the room. As you padded softly across the floor, you could hear another man's tinny voice through the phone, but it was hard to make out what he was saying.
"Ain't no rush. When we get back, I'll set up a meeâ"
You wrapped your arms around him from behind and his voice dropped before swirling around in surprise.
"Hey, I gotta go," he said suddenly into the phone. His dark eyes raked you up and down, ignoring the hard look you were giving him. "We'll talk when I'm back in the office."
He tore the phone from his ear like it burned him, then he placed it face down on the counter before circling his arms around you with a guilty smile.
"You promised no work," you scolded immediately.
"Sorry, darlin'. It was just one quick call 'n I thought you were sleepin'."
"I woke up all alone," you pouted. His brows pitched together, giving you a mock look of sympathy.
"Poor baby. You lookin' for some attention?"
His hands roamed down your sides to the hem of his shirt resting just beneath your ass.
"Need me to take care of you again?" he asked, only that time, his voice sounded deeper. It had warmth spreading between your legs, like your goddamn body was just hardwired to respond only to him. "You come out here wearin' only my shirt, knowin' how fuckin' hard that makes me?"
Your giggle was cut short when his big hands grabbed roughly at your ass.
"Joelâ" you gasped when his lips latched onto your throat and he pushed you up against the counter. For a second, your brain went fuzzy as he ground his hips against you, making it crystal clear that he hadn't been joking when you felt him through his gym shorts. "Joel, w-wait, seriously. I... I think I need a break."
He pulled away from you immediately, giving you a look of concern.
"What's wrong?"
The mood shifted in the blink of an eye. His greedy touch changed to one much softer as he examined you.
"Nothing! God, nothing, sorry," you laughed, feeling embarrassed when you admitted, "I'm just... I'm a little sore."
Your face burned at the confession, but Joel only looked at you with a tenderness that made your chest clench.
"Shit," he cursed, dragging a hand through his already sleep mussed hair. You could tell by the look on his face that he felt terrible.
"No, it's fine," you assured him, cupping his jaw with both hands. You gave him a crooked grin and shrugged. "I guess I underestimated your stamina, Mr. Miller."
Joel chuckled and leaned forward, resting your foreheads together. "I ain't messin' 'round when it comes to makin' a baby with you, sweetheart."
You scratched gently at his beard, smiling when he closed the gap between you and pressed your lips together.
"Tell you what," he said softly, only pulling back a few inches. "Why don't we stay here today. Let's relax by the pool, order some food from that place nearby, and rest. Maybe later, we can take a little walk. Want you to get your strength back up 'cause I ain't nowhere near done with you yet."
"I sure hope not," you laughed, "we're still here five more days."
"And I wanna keep you so full'a me in those five days that there ain't no way it don't stick."
As sore as you were, you still had wetness collecting between your legs. It didn't matter. Your body wanted him so badly, especially when he spoke like that, it seemed to go against all logic.
He must have noticed the way you pressed your thighs together because a mischievous smile stretched across his face.
A second later, Joel fell to his knees. He was pushing his shirt up your hips, exposing your panties, when you gasped and grabbed his hair.
"W-What are you doing?"
He glanced up at you like you were crazy for asking. "Kissin' it better."
You whispered his name with a laugh, about to insist he didn't need to, but your panties were tugged to the floor and your left leg was slung over his shoulder before you had a chance to formulate a thought.
The first wet lick through your pussy felt like balm on a wound and all your protests were quickly forgotten. Your head tipped back with a shudder and you succumbed to his unyielding adoration because he was right â it did feel better. You moaned and grabbed onto his hair a little tighter, relishing in the way his tongue slid through you, so effortless and smooth.
"She's hurtin', but she's so goddamn wet f'me," he grumbled against you. You whimpered and rocked your hips forward, searching for some relief. He gave you what you wanted without hesitation â mouth sucking messily against your cunt, spreading your arousal with each wet kiss. The sound had your face burning and your nipples tightening underneath his shirt.
"Fu-uck, Joel," you whined through clenched teeth. His tongue flicked sharply over your clit and you cried out, body jolting violently. You hissed at the bruise no doubt blooming on your spine from the edge of the counter, but Joel kept going, flattening his tongue with a moan and slowly licking up the entire length of your slit.
"Feel good?" he gasped, mouth slick and shoulders rising and falling in rhythm with his short breaths. Before you could answer, he was on you again, dragging his strong tongue through your swollen cunt. Your face twisted up, the pleasure too intense but too fucking good to resist.
"Yes," you panted. "Yes, p-please... don't stop."
He chuckled darkly at the pathetic whine to your voice and out of the corner of your eye, you spotted him drop an arm between his legs to palm his erection. He groaned and rolled his eyes, still lapping greedily at your center while rubbing the outside of his shorts.
The sight nearly sent you right over the edge.
With his free hand, Joel spread your legs a little wider. You were standing on one shaky leg, already on your tiptoes. He felt the tremble in your thighs and pressed his face harder against your core. It was to help brace you, but the harsh friction from his beard and the messy licks of his tongue had you shouting curses and rutting weakly against his face.
He muffled encouragement between your thighs then your gaze fell just in time to watch him slip his hand inside his gym shorts to pull at his cock. You couldn't look away â and the wrecked look on his soaked face while he furiously stroked himself did you in.
You nearly folded over from the force of your orgasm, but luckily you gripped the counter behind you for dear life. Through heavy lidded eyes, you rode out your climax while watching the way he jerked himself off on his knees with his lips still tightly suctioned to your cunt. It was hypnotic and powerful and you fucking prayed he would do it again just like that one day because once wasn't enough.
"Get up here," you panted, throat raw. He obeyed, abandoning his post to stand and seal his lips hungrily over yours. Between your bodies, you could feel his movements, still working himself over while plunging his tongue into your mouth, giving you a taste of your own release.
You tore yourself away, stomach clenching at the desperate noise that came from his throat, and hurriedly pushed down his shorts. When his cock sprung free, leaking and heavy over the elastic band, you began to lower yourself to your knees.
"N-No," he stammered, "up here, baby."
You didn't feel like arguing. So instead, you replaced his hand with your own and began to slide your fist up and down his smooth, hard cock while he groaned into your mouth.
"I'm gonna come," he whimpered, hips chasing the snap of your wrist. You nodded, breathing heavy, and began to gently squeeze the head of his cock every time your hand slid up. But just when you thought you would be cleaning up a mess all over your hand, he ripped your arm away and flipped you around so your palms smacked loudly against the marble countertops.
"Hips, c'mon," he urged, desperation dripping from his voice. You didn't even think, you just did as you were told â you lifted your hips and spread your legs. "I'm just gonna give you the tip, baby," he assured you breathlessly while one hand held your waist and the other lined himself up with your entrance. "Can't let â shitâ" He gasped when he slipped into your pussy, your wetness and warmth welcoming him despite the burn that still lingered deep inside. "Can't let it go to â go to waste," he managed to grit out while giving you very weak, shallow thrusts. It was just the head of his cock, but it still had your eyes watering and your forehead dropping to the cool counter between your hands.
A moment later, he grabbed your hips with both hands and let out a ragged groan, spilling his seed inside you while fighting the urge to slam his entire length into your wet heat.
"Fuckfuckfuck," he chanted behind you. You whimpered and tilted your head to the side, pressing your cheek to the marble as you waited for him to finish. With one final gasp, he fell forward and wrapped his arms around your middle. Your muscles relaxed and you closed your eyes, listening to the way your breaths synchronized in silence.
One of Joel's hands dipped below the shirt you were wearing and spread wide over your stomach, wordlessly saying what you were thinking: please work.
"Did good, baby," he finally said, voice cracking a bit. His fingers drifted gently over the skin below your belly button and lingered for a moment more before he sighed and forced himself to stand. "You ready?"
"Mhm," you hummed, then winced when he withdrew his cock from between your legs. With your eyes still closed, you felt him crouch to the ground and slip your panties back on, one leg at a time, before pressing a sweet kiss to your sweaty temple.
"Let's clean up, then spend the rest of the day by the pool."
You nodded and pushed yourself off the counter. Joel tucked you under his arm and led you slowly back to the stairs so you could shower and get ready for the day, with the promise of a hot breakfast and coffee when you were done.
You had to hand it to him â he really stuck to his promise of taking care of your every need while you were there.
"Where are we?" you asked, scrunching up your nose as you looked around after stepping out of the car.
"Still in Megalochori. Just further south," Joel told you. He took your hand, tipped the driver, and began to lead you down a street filled with vendors.
"Are we just going for a walk?"
Joel shrugged but he had a sly look on his face he was trying to hide. You raised an eyebrow and tugged on his hand, making him skid to a halt.
"Where are you taking me, Miller?"
He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Alright. Don't be pissed," he began, making you instantly narrow your eyes. "I just wanted to walk by this one property up for sale."
"Joel!" you scolded, dropping his hand to cross your arms tightly over your chest. The call he took earlier that morning suddenly made sense. "You said no working!"
"I â it's just â"
He groaned and tossed his arms in the air.
"I just wanna walk by it. That's it. I won't talk 'bout it the rest of the time we're here, I promise."
"Why do we need to walk by it?" you pressed, still feeling slightly dejected that he was thinking about work on your honeymoon. However, deep down, you knew the man you married. He loved his work. And the look he was giving you in the middle of the street in that moment looked so much like the way he looked when he told you about Fiji for the first time.
"I wanna just see if there's somethin' wrong with it," he told you innocently. "If the location is good, if it's accessible and has a nice view. Tryin' to figure out why it's been vacant for two years."
You tapped your foot and sighed dramatically. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but he held it back, waiting for your permission to break his promise.
"Fine," you huffed, dropping your arms to your sides. "But after this, we don't talk about it for the rest of the trip. No phone calls, no emails... nothing. Got it?"
"Yes ma'am," he grinned.
"And I want ice cream."
"Anythin' else?"
You thought about it for a moment, gaze drifting around the bustling street. Then you spotted a vendor in the distance selling what appeared to be wind chimes, but it was what they were made of that had you gasping and pointing.
"And one of those!"
Joel followed your finger, brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what you were looking at to no avail.
"What?" he asked, but you already snatched up his hand and dragged him halfway down the street. When you got a little closer and he saw the wind chimes made of colorful seashells, it clicked.
"Baby, those are fake," he murmured in your ear so the merchant couldn't overhear. You just grinned and continued to browse until you found one you liked and picked it up.
"But they're pink," you said with a pout, turning so he could look it over. He picked up one of the shells between two fingers and made a face.
"They painted 'em pink. It's tacky."
"Still cute," you insisted. He stared you down for a moment but couldn't resist the way you were bouncing excitedly from foot to foot.
"Fine," he grumbled, pulling out his wallet. You squealed and gave the wind chime to the older man behind the counter so he could wrap it up. While you were waiting, you spotted a gorgeous sapphire necklace on a thick black string that you decided at the last minute to get for Sarah.
"Where're you gonna put that thing?" Joel asked once you had paid and walked a safe distance down the street, out of earshot.
You shrugged. "I'll find a spot."
He tossed an arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head, unable to deny the way you always managed to make him smile, even if it was over some cheap plastic decoration that happened to remind you of something you shared together.
"C'mon. Hotel ain't that far, 'bout a ten minute walk."
"It's cute here," you admitted, mentally clocking the various designer stores lining the streets the more south you walked.
"Great view, too," Joel said right when you finally stepped out of the main cluster of town and into the open air. You gasped at the sudden sea breeze that hit you now that there weren't any buildings to block it, and turned to admire the sparkling water and beach below.
"Wow," you breathed, still taken aback by how stunning the entire country was.
"It's right up here," Joel told you, pointing to a bend in the road. When you rounded the corner, you were met with a dark, run-down building sitting amongst an unkept landscape. It sat all alone, no other businesses were built around it and it didn't seem to be a very busy road â there were hardly any cars that passed when you stopped to take a good look.
"So, this is what you were on the phone about this morning," you mused, looking around at the overgrown gardens and broken windows.
"Yep," Joel said, eyes scanning the building like he had sonar. "Roof's cavin' in. Gotta have extensive water damage in there. Been vacant for almost two years, guess it got hit by some bad storm and the owner didn't have the funds to repair it."
"It's small," you pointed out.
Joel nodded.
"It is."
"It would be a much smaller lot than any of your other hotels."
"It would."
You sighed and looked back towards the street, back where you had just came.
"It's a good area, though," you continued. Joel turned to look at you. "There's a bunch of really nice stores and restaurants within walking distance. Coffee, too. Probably more if we had walked the other way."
Joel smirked proudly. "You got a good eye."
"Well, I learned from the best." You gave him a teasing look and he laughed.
A beat of silence passed between you as you each considered all the factors that went into opening a new hotel.
"I got a vision," Joel said, cutting into your thoughts. Your gaze drifted from the dilapidated building to his sparkling brown eyes. He had that look he always got whenever he had a good idea. "It'll only be maybe three stories. Not too many rooms. Exclusive. Designed for extremely special occasions. Beyond five star service. White glove, black tie... every single person who steps through the door will have every need tended to 'fore they can even think it."
"So, it'll be a new brand," you supplied. Joel thought it over for half a second.
"Yeah. I like that. An off-shoot of the main hotel chain. It's got the potential to spread to other locations. A... romantic flair."
"Like a line of hotels and service catered exclusively to honeymooners?" you questioned, tilting your head playfully to the side. "Wherever did you get that idea?"
Joel grinned and pulled you closer. "What can I say? This trip's been inspiring."
You tipped your chin up so he could brush his lips delicately over yours.
"Alright," you whispered. His arm slinked around your middle, hand resting innocently enough on your ass.
"Alright, what?"
"Alright... it's a good idea," you conceded. Joel's smile grew so wide that you found yourself matching it. Then you held up a singular finger in warning. "But we'll talk about it when we get back. No more work talk for the next few days. It's been vacant for two years, it'll still be vacant in a week."
"Agreed," he said immediately, releasing you so he could take your hand and lead you back toward town. The sun was setting and the area was growing dark.
"You'll have to figure out how we can get street lights here," you told him, wagging a finger at the dark street behind you. "And proper signage for the intersection. No one's gonna know where this place is if it's hidden."
"Thought you said no more work talk?" Joel teased. You pinched him in the side and he gasped in pain, giving you a feigned look of distress that had you giggling.
"You inspired me. You tend to have that effect."
His expression softened a bit before he said, "So do you. You inspire me every single day."
And the way he was looking at you didn't have you doubting him for a second.
Downstairs, you could hear Joel pacing around the great room while he spoke on the phone with Sarah. It was the first time both of you had been out of town while Sarah was in school, and it had him a little concerned. You knew she was a good kid and wouldn't do anything stupid, but Joel was adjusting to being a father at his own pace, and sometimes that meant he worried about things he probably didn't need to worry about.
Still, you found it endearing. You liked that he cared so much. It was a good quality to have, especially considering Sarah's mother lacked that particular skill. It was good practice for him too, since you were trying exceptionally hard to have a baby of your own.
Which lead you to where you were hiding: in the massive walk-in closet, anxiously fiddling with the straps of the very intricate and very expensive bridal lingerie you had bought and snuck into your suitcase without Joel's knowledge. You saved it for your last day in Greece, because, why not?
At the time, the outfit seemed like a fun idea, but now that you were staring at your reflection in the floor length mirror, you were wondering if you could really pull it off. The pure white, thigh-high stockings were what pulled you in when you saw it displayed in the store, and you did really love them: the silk lace trim sat perfectly on your legs, right at the halfway point between your knees and hips. But the satin bodice that cinched your waist and pushed up your breasts until they looked like they were overflowing made you hesitate.
It was unlike anything you had ever worn before. You hardly recognized yourself as you did a slow turn, eyes widening when you caught a good glimpse at your backside â the matching white lace thong hardly covered anything at all. When you bent forward to slip on a pair of white heels, you winced. The corset was tight and impossible to do much in other than stand.
Maybe it was too much.
Just as you were considering changing entirely, you heard Joel wrapping up his conversation with Sarah on the floor below. We'll be home late tomorrow. Love you, stay outta trouble.
You panicked and shoved your feet blindly into your shoes with your heart thundering in your chest. The sudden rush made you dizzy and you tried to take a deep breath, but the goddamn corset was too constricting.
Joel called your name from the stairs, causing you to freeze like a deer in headlights.
"You gonna be ready to leave in an hour?" he asked from what you guessed was halfway up the steps.
You frowned. "Wh-what's in an hour?"
"That dinner reservation. Remember? The one up on the hill so we can watch the sun set over the city?"
Fuck. You forgot.
His voice was clearer. He was in the bedroom. You glanced down once more, making sure you didn't look completely ridiculous.
"Whereâ"
You looked up and your eyes locked with Joel, who was frozen in place at the mouth of the closet, just staring.
You swallowed tightly.
"I forgot about dinner," you whispered, fidgeting nervously with the edge of your bodice. But the way his gaze roamed so slowly over your body, taking in every inch of your skin like he was committing it to memory, like he was afraid to even blink, had all those nerves receding. His gaze was heavy. You felt its weight, like it was pulling you under. And the longer he stared, the darker his eyes became.
"Baby..."
His voice broke. His throat bobbed. One hand quickly came up to grasp the doorframe, like he was about to fall over.
"You like it?" you asked with a grin. That was when you noticed the redness creeping up past his collar.
His eyes flickered up to yours briefly before drifting back down and lingering on your chest. Then, his hand rose from his side. He lifted one finger in the air and he drew a little circle, wordlessly asking you to turn, so you did.
A deep groan rumbled in his chest and before you could make a full circle, his hands were on you. With a gasp followed by a giggle, you reached out to grab the mirror and steady yourself.
"Y'look so fuckin' good," he rasped, voice thick and rough behind your shoulder. But when you titled your chin to look at him, he was gone. A second later, his mouth was dragging fast, messy kisses up the back of your thigh until he reached the curve of your ass. His teeth sunk into your flesh with just the right amount of pressure to make your hips jump, but his hands were there to keep you firmly in place.
"Jesus Christ," he practically whined. You could see him in the mirror behind you, on his knees. His hands skirted down each leg, marveling at the softness of your sheer stockings before he focused back on the apex of your thighs, where your thong was just barely covering your pulsing cunt.
"I take it you like it?"
You watched his gaze dart up your back, jaw slack.
"Smart idea, keepin' this from me til now," he said darkly. Your skin began to prickle at the tone of his voice. "Never woulda let you step foot outta this house if I knew."
He stood quickly and spun you around. He went to pick you up, but you had to stop him with a firm hand to his chest.
"There's just one problem."
The face he gave you looked like he was in physical pain, but he slowed down and forced his hands back to his sides. You grinned sheepishly up at him and said, "I can't bend in this thing."
With a lopsided smirk, Joel cupped your face.
"Is that all?"
You nodded and he gave you a little sympathetic pout.
"Was plannin' on rippin' this off you, anyway," he mumbled right before his mouth crashed with yours in a heated kiss.
Instead of picking you up, he began to walk you backwards, towards the bedroom, with one hand on your cheek and the other on your lower back. When your thighs hit the edge of the bed, he tore himself away, leaving you breathless.
If you felt awkward for the way you stiffly flopped backwards onto the bed, it was only for a moment because the way Joel was looking at you while he began to tear off his shirt and pants had you feeling like a goddamn supermodel.
"I had a whole thing I was gonna do," you giggled when the last of his clothes fell to the floor with the exception of his boxers, which were doing absolutely nothing to hide his erection.
"Oh, baby," he breathed, palming himself once before resting both hands on your calves and slowly dragging them up, over your stockings and past your hips. "You're so fuckin' beautiful. I'm the luckiest son'a bitch alive."
Your face warmed from the compliment but he didn't notice because Joel lunged forward, resting all his weight on both his forearms, and began to mouth hungrily at your tits spilling over the top of your lingerie.
Your eyelids fluttered closed and your hands raised to grab onto his shoulders, soaking up the heat of his body and the love he was pouring over you with every passing second.
His mouth ghosted over every inch of skin he could find as you melted into the mattress. There were a thousand reasons why you knew Joel was the man you wanted to spend your life with, one of them being no other person on earth has ever made you feel so loved and cherished the way he had, and that day was no exception.
"I love this, but you mind if I take it off now?" His fingers toyed restlessly with the satin strings that laced up the back. "'Cause I really want you to ride me, baby, 'n I don't want you feelin' uncomfortable."
You nodded, still lost in the way he breathed you in while his hands grabbed and squeezed every part of you he could. It wasn't until the strings loosened up and the corset opened that you realized how tight it really was. You dragged in a deep breath and squirmed around a bit in relief, letting Joel remove the top part of your lingerie so you could finally move freely again.
"These stay on," he told you, gliding his hand down your silky stockings. He smirked and looked at your heels. "Those, too."
"Whatever you want," you said, grinning when his eyes flashed hungrily down at you.
"Whatever I want?" he repeated. His voice dropped so low it sounded like a growl. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and nodded. A heartbeat later, Joel scooped you up and rolled you both over so you were straddling his hips. You let out a breathless giggle and yelped when he swatted sharply at your ass.
"Go on, then," he said, tucking his arms behind his head with a cocky smile. "You want it so bad? Take it."
You didn't need to be told twice.
You got to work tugging his boxers down his legs while he watched you, bare breasts swaying as you moved. When you finished, you slowly crawled back up his body, smiling devilishly as you went. When you reached his hips, your eyes dropped to his cock, laying rock hard and leaking against his stomach. It was too irresistible â you leaned down and licked a broad stripe up the length of him, moaning softly when your tongue collected a bead of precum.
"Fuck," he whispered, dark eyes pinned to your every move. His arms still remained behind his head but you could see his biceps twitching, showing his restraint. The idea of him struggling to hold himself back had a jolt of arousal shooting through you, so you did it again, only that time you wrapped your lips around his tip and swirled your tongue around his girth.
You glanced up at him through your lashes, still sucking gently on the head of his cock. His jaw dropped and his eyes squeezed shut until finally one arm reached out and stopped you. His cock slid from your lips and you gasped.
"Quit fuckin' 'round 'fore I come down your throat."
You batted your lashes at him. "But you taste so good."
He groaned and yanked you up so he could plunge his tongue into your mouth for a taste. You didn't want to rush, but you were so wet that the pinch between your legs almost hurt. It seemed Joel needed it just as badly as you because a moment later, his hand snuck down to cup your ass and lift you up while his mouth continued to pry your jaw open wide. With one finger, he pulled the lace thong to the side, grunting his approval into your mouth when he swiped through the wet fabric.
"Joelâ" you whimpered when the blunt tip of his cock nudged at your opening. He bit at your lower lip and gave your ass another harsh smack.
"Sit on it."
You dropped your hips at his command, taking just a few inches inside you with a wet gasp. Your head rolled back with a low moan at the stretch. Joel's mouth dragged down your cheek, then his nose nudged at your jaw, forcing you to tilt your head so he could have full access to your throat. You bit down on your lip with a whine as you lowered yourself further, taking more and more of him inside your aching cunt until your hips grew flush.
You sighed with relief and let your body sag against his for a second: chest to chest, with his soft lips ghosting over your neck, then collarbone, then shoulder, like he couldn't decide where to kiss first.
His teeth grazed your skin when you began to move. Slowly, at first. Just shallow lifts of your hips. But then it felt too good, so you chased after the feeling with faster bounces until your arms were draped loosely around his neck and his face was buried between your tits.
He murmured how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, how â if he could â he would marry you all over again, only much sooner. His arms circled your waist and held you close while you continued to bounce on his lap, chasing your high with each exquisite drag of his cock. It was hard to remember a time when you felt as safe and loved and cherished as you did when you were with him. There were no walls, no safeguards, nothing. You both were just laid bare to one another. It was probably why you were able to come so quickly, with a sharp little moan and a stutter of your hips while Joel left love bites all across your chest. His big hands dropped to your ass, helping you move up and down while you rode out your climax and didn't let go until you slumped forward with a sigh.
He didn't let you rest for long. In the blink of an eye, he had you flipped onto your back, cock still buried deep inside you. Your eyes flew open just as he was tossing one leg over his shoulder. He spread out your other one across the comforter, widening your hips so he could start to fuck you harder, just the way he wanted.
"Oh, fu-uck baby, y'look so good like this," he stammered. His glassy eyes were glued to your bare chest, tits bouncing with every one of his thrusts, then his gaze dropped between your legs, where your now ruined white thong was still pushed off to the side as he railed into you, over and over. His palm drifted up the silken stocking covering your leg. He mouthed at the inside of your knee before he pushed your leg closer to your chest, then kissed your ankle. Your foot still dangled over his shoulder, white heel bouncing wildly just behind his head as he fucked you like his life depended on it.
"Need you to come f'me again," he told you before dropping your leg and falling forward, caging you in. You shook your head and writhed under him. You were so sensitive that it almost hurt, but then he nipped at your chin, forcing your attention back onto his face.
"You gotta come, baby. Gotta â shit â gotta come, o-okay? N-Need this pretty little pussy to s-suck me dry."
He was falling over his words. He was close, you knew that. He was minutes away from his own orgasm. He didn't need you to come to get there, but he liked it. He preferred it. And so did you. So you rocked your hips forward in rhythm with his, ground your clit against the coarse hairs at the base of his cock, and mumbled in his ear that you wanted his baby, that you wanted it to stick, that you wanted to be full of him so everyone would see how good he took care of you.
Everyone would see how much he loved you.
Your own words lit a fire inside you. Every groan and whispered fantasy had pressure building fast and hot between your legs until Joel stopped slamming into you and started rolling his hips, deep and hard so he could reach that spot that had your vision blurring with tears and your throat going raw.
Like clockwork, you fell apart for him, body spasming and voice breaking over his name intertwined with curses and whines. A few more rough thrusts later had him grabbing onto your hip and going still, spilling himself deep inside you with a ragged groan.
"Look how good you did," he panted while shallowly thrusting in and out of your soaked pussy. You tiredly looked down between your bodies, where his cum was leaking out around his cock and staining your panties. He laughed when you rolled your eyes and let your head fall backwards onto the bed, completely spent.
He eased out of you with a grunt, then helped close your trembling legs before flopping onto the bed beside you. He rolled onto his side and his eyes slid shut while you both quietly caught your breath, but then his hand came to wordlessly rest on your lower stomach, fingers spread wide and protective, and your throat tightened.
"What about dinner?" you asked sleepily. Joel inhaled slow and deep, then curled his body around yours with his hand still stretched across your stomach.
"We'll figure somethin' else out," was all he said.
You hummed and rolled to face him. Your leg slotted naturally between his and he tucked you under his chin, like your bodies have done countless times before. As you laid there in silence, you realized it was the first time you weren't thinking about whether or not it worked. You knew no matter what â whether you got pregnant one day or not â you would be happy, because you would always have Joel, and he was enough.
What started out as a hypothetical idea quickly turned into reality when you returned home from your honeymoon. Joel managed to purchase the abandoned hotel in Greece much faster than expected, and at an outrageously good price. With how quickly things were moving, a company wide meeting was called that morning to announce the new acquisition and the plans to expand into a new line of hotels, just like you had discussed. It had the whole place buzzing with excitement everywhere you turned. The Parador: Premier was the tentative name, just a way to refer to the new project in meetings, but it was beginning to really stick.
Needless to say, work was insane. For the past week you found yourself waiting for Joel outside his office for over an hour at the end of each day, and even when he finished up and you drove home, he tended to work in his study until well after you fell asleep.
It was hard to get any time alone with him, but you actually had a legitimate meeting on the books for once, so you knew you would finally have his undivided attention for an hour.
Well. Technically the meeting was between Joel and your boss, Caroline. But she ended up having a meeting go over and asked you to take her place, instead.
Something told you Joel wouldn't mind.
Even if it was an hour of work, you were still looking forward to spending some time with your very busy and very focused husband as you rode the elevator up to the top floor, where all the executive offices and biggest conference rooms were kept.
You felt a little rush of excitement as you walked across the floor, past the executive conference room, towards Joel's corner office. Chrissy, Joel's receptionist, and Liam, his personal assistant, sat at their respective desks on either side of his door looking bored. When Liam noticed you heading their way, he brightened up and stood to give you a hug.
"His schedule is stacked today," Liam warned you, stepping back to glance at his computer screen.
"I'm taking Caroline's place," you explained, leaning against the edge of his desk and giving Chrissy a friendly wave.
"Oh, thank god," she breathed, "I thought you were going to ask us to find time, and..." her eyes flickered to her own monitor and she scrolled down with a heavy exhale. "Yeah. You get it."
Liam nodded to the pile of folders in your arms. "Is that the ad feedback?"
"Yep," you said proudly, tapping the top folder. "He'll be happy, don't worry."
Just then, Joel's door swung open and Ross, the CFO, walked out mid-chuckle.
"Alright, Joel. We'll see you at four," he said, reaching just past the doorframe where Joel must have been standing to shake his hand. When Ross walked out and saw you, he gave you a wink. "How're you doing, sweetheart?"
"Good, Ross, thanks," you smiled as he walked by. Joel must have heard your voice because a moment later, he appeared in the door with a look of surprise.
"Hey, sorry..." He looked down at the watch Sarah gifted him and grimaced. "I got a meetingâ"
"With me," you finished for him. You pushed off Liam's desk and waltzed past him, into his office. "Caroline couldn't make it. I have the focus group feedback you wanted," you added over your shoulder as you made your way to the chair opposite his desk. You heard the door close as you fixed your skirt, then giggled when you felt the tickle of his beard against your neck when he gave you a kiss on the cheek from behind.
"What a nice surprise," he said softly before flattening his tie and rounding his desk. He crossed his legs and gave you a tired smile. "Can we rush the work shit so I can just admire my wife for the rest of the hour?"
"Deal," you said with a grin before handing him the first folder. He opened it up and scanned the pages while you gave him the bullet points of the first ad. By the time you got to the fifth and final one, there was a soft knock on the door.
"Yeah?" Joel called without looking up. Liam opened the door with a heavy looking box in his arms.
"Sorry to disturb you both," he said, walking towards the bar in the back of the room. "But I thought since you were both here it would be good timing â the case of wine you bought from Greece just arrived."
"Oh, I almost forgot about that," you murmured.
"That's great, you can leave it right there," he told Liam with a wave of his hand. "We'll take most of it home."
You pressed your lips together as Joel continued to review the final folder. Behind you, Liam excused himself and the door clicked shut.
"This is good," Joel finally said. Then he closed the folder and looked up at you. "What're you thinkin'?"
"I like the first and fourth ones the most," you shrugged. "One heartfelt, one funny. They both resonated with all age groups, too."
Joel nodded and pushed the pile of folders back in your direction. "I agree. Let's pull the trigger and start casting."
"Great," you said, glancing at the clock behind him. Now that work was done, you could feel the butterflies begin to stir up in your stomach.
"Should we open one of those later tonight? Celebrate?" he asked, chin jutting in the direction of the wine Liam left on top of the bar. You glanced behind you and bit your lip.
"Uh, maybe."
Joel heard the hesitance in your voice and when you didn't meet his eye, he sighed and stood up. "Listen. I'm sorry it's been crazy lately, but it'll quiet down soon, I promise."
"I know, it's okayâ" You began to assure him, but he cut you off, perching on the edge of his desk directly in front of you.
"No, it ain't. We've hardly spent any time together the past month since we've been home 'n I'm gonna make it up to you. Hell," he chuckled, crossing his ankles one over the other. "We'll probably end up spendin' alotta time in Greece over the next year. Y'know, to oversee Tommy and the crew while they knock down the old placeâ"
"Joelâ"
"And I know what you're gonna say," he said, not catching the way you had to hide your smirk behind your hand.
"I can almost promise you, you don't."
"âand I ain't gonna work the whole tiâ wait, what?"
He gave you a confused look, hand paused mid-air as he stared at you curiously. Slowly, you stood up and took both his hands.
"I finally figured out where we can put that pink seashell wind chime you hate."
His eyebrows furrowed and he blinked. "What?" he asked again. You squeezed his hands and swallowed the lump in your throat before reaching for the last folder you had kept hidden on your lap.
"Open it."
Joel took it from your hands, eyes flickering back and forth between the file and you before slowly opening it up. You watched his face morph from utter confusion to complete disbelief in a matter of seconds.
"Isâ Is this...?"
"Yeah," you nodded with tears in your eyes. With shaky hands, he lowered the folder so you could both look at the black and white ultrasound pictures. "I'm pregnant."
i'm super high right now, and all i can think about is getting fucked by Joel while Tess watches (1k)
tags/warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, smut smut smut, no outbreak, established relationship (tess x f!reader), cuck!Tess, exhibitionism, voyeurism, unprotected p in v, praise kink, overstimulation, Joel's goddamn mouth has its own warning, big dick!Joel is in the house, written in one sitting w/very little editing
Your body shudders as you finally regain your breath after absolutely drenching Joelâs cock for a third time this night. You're currently writhing underneath him softly, your dripping cunt wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock, riding out the final waves of aftershocks of your latest orgasm. Skin covered in sweat, your body desperately trying to cool down your heated skin.
"Fuck, there ya go baby. Doin' so well for me." Joelâs eyes are glued to your spent pussy, still eagerly sucking him in. He's on his knees, your legs spread wide over his thighs as he pounds himself into you, slow and hard. He's gripping your thighs, using them as anchors as he grinds his pelvis into your clit, the head of his cock blissfully massaging your g-spot over and over and over again.
You grasp the sheets underneath your hands, scrunching the fabric in your fingers as you screw your eyes shut and whine from your oversensitive and swollen clit being perfectly stimulated by the coarse hair settled around the base of his cock. Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes from the intense mixture of pain and pleasure, but you don't have it in you to utter your safeword. You can do this. You know you can. Because he told you so. Because he told you before you started that you were going to take his cock as many times as he wanted and that you would be grateful for it. Because Tess told you you could take it. Because Tess told you to be good and take what Joel was going to give you, promising you were ultimately in control of this situation.
And damn if it doesnât feel good to prove them right.
Joel drops your thighs and leans over you. Planting one arm by the side of your head, he brings his other palm to cup your chin, gripping it tightly as he thrusts his index and middle fingers into your mouth. Your lips tingle with the sensation, wondering how his fingers fucking your mouth can feel as good as his thick cock pounding your drenched pussy. You moan as your walls clench down around him, your pleasure slowly swirling and building from your core into something devastating.
"Tess, fuck, look at your girl." Joel uses his grasp on your chin to move your face to the side, forcing your gaze to land on your girlfriend sitting off to the side of the bedroom, her eyes glued to your face. Your eyes drop to see Tess' hand slowly moving under her jeans; the thought of her touching herself at the sight of you being fucked by her friend sends a fresh wave of pleasure through your body.
"This tight little pussy of hers takes cock. so. well," he grunts, punctuating the last few words with hard thrusts, knocking the wind out of you on each one.
You suck on his fingers harder, your whines muffled from the action. God, the way Tess is looking at you sends shivers down your spine. The sheer pleasure plastered across her face no doubt mirroring your own. And then there's Joel, hell bent on taking you apart and making you come undone around his cock until you physically can't take it anymore.
He tips his head down, the tip of his nose caressing your cheek as you continue to stare at Tess. His lips graze the shell of your ear as you feel his breath against your skin before he starts speaking again.
"Fuck, you like this baby girl? You like your pretty girlfriend watching you get absolutely wrecked by her best friend? Huh?" His taunting has you involuntarily clenching around him again, the fire in your belly quickly starting to spread from his words. He groans as he feels your pussy tighten around him, he lets out another loud moan as you clench even tighter after hearing him groan in your ear.
"Fuck yeah baby girl, fuck you really do like this. Fuckin' filthy girl, spreading her legs for a man she isn't dating, begging for his cock while your girlfriend watches you cum over and over and over again, not being able to touch you herself."
You see Tess' eyes screw shut as her hand works faster, her heaving chest signaling she was grower closer and closer. You whimper around Joelâs fingers, the sight of Tess coming undone from the sight of you being fucked by someone else is enough to catapult you higher and higher, your release threatening to overtake you.
Your toes curl as you grip Joelâs biceps tightly. His grip on your jaw still tight, forcing your head to stay to the side - Tess being the only thing you can see as Joel spews filth into your ear.
"Such a good fuckin' girl for us, takin' whatever I wanna give ya, huh? Doin' whatever she tells ya? Fuck! Y-your pussy is chokin' me so tight, baby girl, gonna make me lose it if you don't st-"
You don't hear anything beyond that. Your orgasm rips through you violently, deafening your ears as all your basic functions preserve enough energy to get you through the intense pleasure. You barely register hearing yourself scream Joel's name as you clutch at his back, drool dripping from the corners of your mouth, digging your nails into his muscles as you try to hold on to reality. Your eyes flutter open, albeit slightly from how heavy your eyelids are, to find Tess staring at you again. Your senses start coming back to you as you feel Joels fingers slip out of your mouth and start caressing your hair from your face, whispering praises.
"Atta girl."
You don't know when he stopped his thrusts, but youâre painfully aware that he's nowhere near finished with you - his cock still hard and throbbing within your spasming walls. You see Tess' hand slowing down, not fully stopping, but easing back enough to stave off her own release. She looks back into your eyes longingly, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes causes a shiver to run down your spine before she speaks.
pulling him closer by that cunty silver necklace of his, and asking him to whom he belongsâin the sweetest, faux sympathy voice possibleâwhile clenching my pussy around his throbbing cockâŠ
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Virginity loss. Creampie. Daddy kink. Girthy, unspecified age gap. Exhibitionism if you squint. Oral (m! and f! receiving). Breeding kink. Assplay. Intercrural sex. Soft dom!Joel. DD/lg dynamics and the use of anatomical terminology to describe various body partsâdonât like, donât read.
Note: âLovinâ, Touchinâ, Squeezinââ is a song by Journey đșđ»
Another note: All characters involved in this story are adults. Reader is described as having grown up in isolation, without access to formal education, and as such, her understanding of the human body and sexual reproduction is limited. This is not a reflection of her intelligence or her ability to learn the topics.
Word count: 18.0k
Surely, it hurt.
It had to.
Whatever was happening in the confines of the bedroom next to yours, the woman didnât sound like she was having fun. A sharp cry had startled you out of your sleep, only slightly muffled by the cabinâs walls, and when you were awake, you heard all of it. Everything.
âTommy.â The voice rose, pitchy and shrill. âPleeease!â
It sounded as if someone were begging for their life, frankly; the responding male groan was near-deafening. The quick, hollow thumps against the wall picked up, and before you could even begin to wonder at what that was from, you heard Tommy Millerâs voice rejoin in turn:
âYou fuckinâ love it, donât ya, baby?â
No, clearly, your wife is in pain.
You couldnât believe what you were hearing with your own two ears; you and Joel had come to visit for the weekend, since the two of you lived a little ways away from Jackson and the balmy summer weather was too good not to travel. It wasnât all that often you got to see Joelâs only living family, but whenever you did, it was fun. Tommy, his brother, and Maria really seemed to suit one another, and you relished any opportunity to be around other people. You didnât get very much of that with Joel.
He was technically your closest, and oldest, neighbor.
Since your grandmother had passed some years back, he had taken it upon himself to care for you. At first, itâd been just a matter of stopping by every now and then to make sure you were fed, safe, and content, but that had morphed slowly over time to you moving into his place. Taking up residence in his little two-bedroom abode out in the middle of nowhere, and becoming something like a friend to him. A pet, a plaything, a wardâyou werenât totally sure what to call your relationship to Joel, seeing as though youâd never been anything to any man before.
You rushed over to his bed now, no hesitation stalling your limbs as you tore off his sheets in a state of panic:
âJoel!â
The man lay there, motionless. His big, broad, black-and-silver speckled chest rose up and down, again and again.
Joel always slept heavy as shit. He wore boxers and nothing more, which you were used to seeing by now.
And you felt such a singular familiarity with him after all this time that you didnât think twice to climb into the bed, right on top of him. This was just Joel, after all.
Round, brown eyes flew open as soon as you did.
âFuckinâ shââ he started, voice thick with sleep.
âJoel, hurry!â you hissed. Straddling his hips, grabbing at his bare shoulders and shaking them as hard as you could. âT-Tommyâs hurtinâ Maria! We need to help.â
A low groan sounded in Joelâs throatânot entirely unlike the one that youâd heard from his brother through the wall, you thought for half a momentâand shortly, a set of hands landed on your waist. They squeezed you tight.
And, just as it seemed they were about to lift and nudge you sideways, you bore down. Insistent, and frowning.
âJust listen! Right now. Please, Joel, I-Iâm serious.â
You were pleading with him now, unable to contain the fear in your tone as you clamped a hand over his mouth.
Honestly, you probably didnât even need to do thatâthe room was dead quiet, save for the sounds of you and Joelâs breathing, the soft whistle of the wind, thenâ
âOhhhh, fuck me! Tommy, itâsâshit!â Maria whimpered.
âYou asked for it, baby. Wanted me poundinâ ya, huh?â
Tommyâs words seemed to bounce off of every surface in the room with a grating, nauseating turn. It made your eyes widen, and your palm press even tighter to Joel.
âSee?! HeâHeâs hittinâ her! We gotta gââ
Joel groaned again. Louder, and more pointed this time.
You hadnât realized it, but your thighs were holding pretty hard, too. Your groin was aligned perfectly with Joelâs, your weight was sinking down, and that touch was concentrated. If there had been any room to consider your current spot, you couldâve sworn you felt aâŠlump?
âFuck,â Joel gritted through his teeth. Finally lifting you off him, and wincing as he did, he sat up. He met your gaze with a sharp, stern, and bewildered sort of look.
âWhatââ he panted, ââare ya talkinâ about, darlinâ?â
âDonât you hear it?â
âYes. Yes, I do.â
You blinked.
âSoâŠgo!â
âWhat?â
âStop âem.â
âFrom what?â
âFightinâ, Joel!â
Now, it was his turn to blink.
He waited several seconds, then continued.
âBabygirl, Tommy and Maria ainâtâŠainât havinâ no fight.â
For a while, you had only to stare back at him, confused.
The ride home was awkward.
Joel could feel it in his bones, beneath his skin, itching from within the deepest recesses of his body: that morning had changed things. For you and for him.
What he had come to suspect for the longest timeâand what had only made sense, since the one, lone soul youâd known all your life until him had been your grandmotherâwas true. You didnât know what sex was, or what it did.
Joel swallowed thickly, pretending not to be conscious of the warmth on his back. Your arms snug around him. Your cheek resting gently against the cotton duck fabric of his jacket while the two of you rode on horseback to get home, and a pout the size of Texas no doubt marring your pretty face. Youâd been cross with him all that day.
âVenison and cornbread for supper. How âbout it?â He tried supplying his tone with some playful inflection, hoping to entice with the promise of your favorite meal.
Clearly, though, he would need to try harder.
You shrugged against him.
âFine by me.â
Joel knew that tone. Could probably pinpoint with surgical precision what you were feeling before the emotion even rose to your eyes. He couldnât see you now, but he could feel the frustration bleeding through your words. Being treated as if you were too young, too innocent, too dumb to be told this hurt, plain and simple.
He wrestled with this thought the whole way home, then trudging into the cabin that youâd been sharing for months. You strode ahead, steps brisk and decided, and you peeled off your long, light cardigan without a care in the world. You kicked off your boots and set them beside the rest of his in the mud room. Joel followed you, softly.
He set his hands on his hips after toeing off his own Luccheses, watching you and not knowing what to say.
Then you turned to face him.
The cough was both reflexive and immediate. Joel had never seenâhell, itâd been years since anybody, but thisâŠthis was even worse, more jarring than he everâŠ
He forced his gaze away in a blink. He coughed again.
âSweetie,â Joel started, low. âI think your, uhââ
âWill you just tell me?â you snapped. You threw your hands up, as if sick of having had to hold your tongue this long. âWhatever was going on. With Tommy and Maria. I know you think IâmâŠIâmâŠyoung, or whatever, but, Joel, I am a full grown adult!â Another pause just long enough for you to gnaw at your bottom lip and cross your arms. Bad, bad move for Joelâs resolve. âAinât like itâs my fault I was born after outbreak and never learned.â
You were right.
Joel shouldnât have been so narrow-minded.
Still, that didnât change the fact that you were wearing what looked to be the most slight, translucent fucking frock of all time. Something short and sweet and swept up in a sea of white tulle: you couldâve been modeling for a wedding night lingerie specialty line, bare as you were.
He mustâve missed it under your sweater. Not turned his head to meet your eyes or your ensemble that morning before you climbed up on the horse behind him and set out. Joel knew heâd never seen thisâŠthing once before.
Your tits practically spilled out of the top. Your arms remained crossed, and you eyed him with a wary look.
âWell?â you said.
âWell,â Joel repeated, still floundering for words. âWhâWell, yâknow, IâŠsee, IâveâIâve beenâŠâSâalways beenâŠâ
Shit.
He was tongue-tied.
More helpless than a fish trying to ride a bike.
And, like a teenager with an untimely boner growing in his jeansâeven though, at his age, Joel couldnât get bricked that quick if his life depended on itâhe shuffled away. Sidestepped you in the hallway and made a beeline for the kitchen, where he could feel an odd stir start to take root in his lower half. He cursed the half-cocked mass in his pants and sincerely hoped it wouldnât interfere with what he knew he needed to do now.
âIâllâŠIâll explain it, sweet pea. While we cook, OK?â
âAlright.â You started trailing behind him slowly.
You didnât sound convinced. Joel wasnât remotely disposed for the conversation awaiting him in the kitchen, or having to look you head-on while half your body was on display to him. You didnât seem to see it.
You were as innocent and clueless as the moment youâd bat your lashes at him in the half light of the bedroom that morning, straddling his hips, and replying to his last quip by saying, âIf they ainât fightinâ, what are they doinâ?â
âWho gave you that dress, anyway?â
Joel retrieved the meat from the ice box, setting it out to let it thaw while you and him prepped the rest of the meal. Across the room, you were already grabbing some of the ingredients youâd need: flour, cornmeal, sugar, salt
âMaria,â you answered, simply. âShe let me have whatever clothes of hers I wanted. âSânice, ainât it?â
âIt looks like something youâd wear on your honeymoon.â
After turning to preheat the oven, Joel sidled up beside you. His gaze affixed itself to the counter through pure force of will, though in his periphery, he caught sight of the outline of your breasts. He tore open a bag of sugar.
Then you turned to him, voice rising a little:
âWhatâs a honeymoon?â
Joel couldnât help it; he had to meet your eyes lifting to find his. Inside them, he saw genuine curiosity brimming.
Innocence, too.
âJust a, uhâŠtrip that folks would take right after their wedding,â he said, before clearing his throat. âVacation.â
âOh.â
For a brief space of time, silence settled into the grooves and bumps of that slightly uncomfortable realizationâwhat the world was like before it all splintered apartâand neither one of you tried to speak. You worked nimble fingers over the dry ingredients, Joel cracked eggs one by one, and together, you made relatively quick work of readying the cornbread mixture for baking. It was easy.
Stupidly, Joel thought that he might be off the hook in terms of not having to discuss the mechanics of marriage and sex to you then, when you piped up again.
âSo this is what Iâd be wearinâ after gettinâ hitched? LikeâŠlike Tommy and Maria did?â You licked sugar off your thumb before sliding the tray to him, and he took it.
âYeah. I meanâŠâ
Joel opened the oven door, and more carefully than he probably needed to do, pushed the baking dish inside it.
ââŠnot immediately.â
When he had, you were right back beside him.
âDoinâ whatever we heard this morning, you think?â
The curiosity in your tone was unmistakable. Perhaps emboldened by the plain look of discomfort that was twisting his every feature, you could say it more freely.
Having sex, of course.
Why the hell hadnât your grandma bothered to tell you?
âYes,â Joel replied, stiff as anything. âThatâsâŠpart of it.â
âHow much of it?â
âWellââ
âAnd whyâd it sound like Maria was in pain?â
âBaby, thatâthat ainât any real pain, I prââ
âShe was screaminâ, Joel! Really hollerinâ.â
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
He absolutely hated this.
With you pressed up beside him, eyes wide and glossy and shimmering with intrigue, his cock half-hard in his jeans and his mind thrumming with that constant, paralyzing thoughtââI promised I would keep her safe, not completely obliterate her innocence like thisââhe balked. He took a step away from you and shook his head, like something had just rocked him to his core.
Your brows pinched.
âSo then, what were theyââ
ââcanât do this right now, sweetheart. âMâsorry.â
Joelâs whole chest seemed to cave with his sigh: the kind that reminded him how old he was, how naĂŻve you were, and how wrong it would be if he gave you the wrong impression of sex. Make you afraid of it, or averse to it.
âWe can go back to Jackson. Have one of them teachers in the schools explain it to you much better than I ever could.â Joel was walking to the pantry now, resealed food items cradled haphazardly in his arms. He didnât slow.
And, before he had even gotten the chance to open the door, much to his shock and sheer, unmitigated dismay, he heard your voice again. Behind him, as defiant as ever.
âWhatever, Joel.â
Your voice was hard; he could feel the eye roll baked in. Then you stalked past him, straight for the living room.
Stomping ahead, and calling over your shoulder, you said: âIf you wonât tell me, Iâll just ask some other guy to explain. Maybe the boys my age wonât be such prudes!â
It was the closest youâd ever gotten to downright bratty in your life. Joel had only to stand there, arms full of various powdered fixings and his jaw gone partly lax. He stared at your back, gaze following you as you went over to the den. You flopped onto the old and weathered sofa.
He dropped whatever he was holding then.
With something red-hot and ugly beginning to pool in his gut, mind reeling from the words youâd just spoken to him, Joel acted without thinking. Footsteps echoed.
âDarlinâ.â
He wouldnât get angry.
âSweetheart. SwâHey. Look at me.â
That simply wasnât in his nature. He loved you too much.
You turned to face him in your seat, and this time, Joel didnât feign not to see you. Half-naked as you were, pert nipples poking through your dress and chest rising and falling in fast, shallow breaths, you looked like a dream.
So what if he couldnât be with you how he wanted?
He could teach you, and that would be enough.
Joel tugged you back up onto your feet.
âFine. You wanna learn about sex?â
As soon as he said it, your eyes went wider. A heat must have spread from your cheeks all the way down to your toes and strangled your tongue as it did, because all you could do was close and unclose your mouth, repeatedly.
How fast that brave, no-bullshit attitude was to disappear, Joel thought idly. He wanted to smile.
You didnât even know what sex was, and still, as if by instinct, you knew that that word meant something.
It made you shift on your feet, toes curling.
âI, umâŠâ
Huh.
âWhat?â
âItâs justâŠâ you went on, sounding uncertain.
âBaby, if you canât even stomach the word, Iâd say weâd be better off saving this conversation for another day.â
That made you tense up again.
As if heâd just shocked you with a live wire, muscles jumping and skull surely shaking a, no, Joel, I can stomach it fine, I promise, you cut right back in.
Eyes lifting to his, bottom lip no longer snagged between your teeth, and then with your body lowering, slow, back down to take a seat on the sofa, you finally forced it out.
âJoel, IâI want you to teach me how to fuck. Really, I do.â
Well, shit.
Joel reckoned that had âpretty pleaseâ beat all to hell.
Your words damn near knocked him sideways.
It was all the man could do to keep from keeling straight over and croaking on the spotâhe had to get away from you, if only by a couple extra feet. He shuffled back. Stood at the center of the living room with his feet planted firmly in place, then tilted his head to you.
âAnd just where did you learn that word, young lady?â
Paternal condescension came too easy to him.
Joel blinked hard to keep his face in check.
You shrugged before him. Hummed back.
âDunno. âSâwhat Maria said, right?â you replied, eyes locking with his. âMoaninâ, âFuck me, Tommy, pleeeâââ
âThatâs enough.â Joel held his hand up to stop you.
What was he going to do with you? Gaze glittering bright, lips parted, practically careening over the edge of your seat to hear the rest, while simultaneously looking terrified to learn for certain. You knew some words, but not other ones. You had an innocence and an obscenity bound up inside you at once. Joel was afraid to touch it.
âIf Iâm teachinâ you a thingâŠâ he resumed, slow, stance widening where he stood and arms folding. âI mean one thing, sugar, weâre only using the clinical terms, yâhear?â
Joel scarcely had the words to describe the depth of his own emotion and what he felt toward you; he knew heâd need to keep someâŠdistance when discussing this subject. Making his jargon dry, unappealing, and scientific seemed like the best way of doing that.
âAlright,â you said, tucking your legs underneath you.
Another beat of silence.
Another ripe, strangled breath slicing through his teeth.
âOKâŠâ Joel went on, trying his best not to grimace. âHas anyone talked to you about the, uhâŠbirds and the bees?â
âYou mean dicks and vaginas?â
âHey.â
Joel choked.
His hand scrubbed down his face in an almost vicious way, and he had to shield his stubbled mouth with his palm, for fear of another less-polite sound tumbling out.
Sat on the couch, you wore a faint, smug little smile.
âSorry. Penises and vaginas,â you corrected yourself.
Again, Joel was blinking furiously, but now his index finger was lifting, too, pointing at you: âThin ice, kid.â
You werenât going to make this easy on him, clearly. Whether you were aware of the reasons why, or knew just how to wield your power over him was a separate question. Either way, Joel would need to keep moving.
So, pretending to clear a cough from his throat again, he went on. Recovering the grit to his voice, and scowling:
âYes. Penises and vaginas. Pretty simple stuff, really.â
You raised your brows. Joel ignored it.
âPole goes in the hole, andââ
âHowâs it fit?â you cut in.
âWhat?â
Joelâs frown deepened. You sat straighter in your seat.
âI meanâŠevery time Iâve seen one, itâs, umâŠwormy.â
Wormy?
âWormy?â Joel returned immediately, in disbelief.
And he couldnât contain the next, which all but launched itself off his tongue: âYouâveâYouâve seen a dick before?â
âPenis, Joel.â
âPenis.â
He sucked in a breath to try and calm himself, but the effort, evidently, was for nothing. He was near-seething.
You peered up at him.
âJust yours,â you said. A little sheepish. âOnce or twice.â
Joel let the breath out. His mouth tightened.
âYouâveââ Then he stopped himself. The question was stupid; of course, youâd caught glimpses of him naked before. That was inevitable living in a house this small.
Before you could even try to apologize, he pressed on.
âOK, well, whatâsâŠwhat the hellâs âwormyâ mean?â
âI dunno. Just, like, squishy and pink, I guess.â
âThatâsââ Another brief pause. Joel had to steel himself right. âWell, hon, it doesnât stay like that. ItâŠIt gets hard, when a man feels good. Helps him fit inside the woman.â
Not terrible.
Not perfect, but not terrible.
You perked up where you sat, and it was in that moment that Joel realized that his joints ached. His legs burned. The forearms crossed over his chest had unconsciously constricted tighter to the point that it was getting a little tough to breathe, so he released his hold. His hands fell to his sides at the same time you stood up in front of him
Damn that smile of yours.
Damn those gleaming eyes.
âCan you show me how?â you asked softly.
Your gaze trailed to his crotch, and Joel could feel it like a real, bona fide weight sinking him. It was curious. Sweet.
âThat ainât right,â was Joelâs first instinct, which he said.
Even faced with the stern, stormy exterior of a man no less than several decades your senior, though, you didnât seem deterred by those words. If anything, it made the little tilt in your lips kick higher. You smiled lightly at him.
âHow come?â you asked. âItâs just teachinâ, Joel.â
Too easy.
Joel swallowed and shook his head.
âNo. Sweetheart, teachinâs a whole other beast fromâŠfrom me showinâ you what I mean. You gotta know that.â
Still, his eyes were glossing over, and a haze was settling over his mind like a mist in the sky just before the break of dawn. His limbs felt heavy, and his tongue went dry.
You were too fucking sly and sweet for your own good.
As if on cue, you drew closer to meet him where he stood. The hem of your dress shifted and swayed, barely long enough to scrape the tops of your thighs. Joel couldnât bear to look higher, so he just stared at your legs. Scrambling like hell to come up with an excuse as to why heâd need to leave the room in less than a second, he wasnât remotely prepared for what you ventured next.
You took the hem in your hands, and you lifted it.
Not just an inch or two but ten, easily, all the way until the fabric was touching your navel. The move exposed your entire lower half to him, and Joel found himself ogling a pair of bright, white, matching underwear.
Before he could move, you tilted your hips. As if showing him a new bump or bruiseâwhich you often liked to do whenever you were hurt and needed attentionâyou said:
âJoel, look.â
He did.
He almost had to.
Old and awful and ashamed as he was, he couldnât keep his eyes away. They were unblinking and ravenous, soaking in your form like a hunter surveying its next meal
Then you shifted on your delicate, socked feet.
âHow âbout me? Can you show it on me?â you whispered.
Joel didnât have the bandwidth to mince words right now
Teachinâ, touchinâ, lovinâ, squeezinââhe had that craving.
One look between your legs and the man wouldâve died on the spot if you told him. That was how needy he was.
Your fingers wavered a little when you didnât hear a response. Joel was too busy eyeing you and trying not to drool, but the sight of you starting to lower your skirt snapped him out of it. He placed his hands on your waist.
âWait.â Then, realizing how abrupt and sharp that sounded, he paused. He tried softening his tone a little. âSorry. I mean. YouâŠyou want me to show ya, sweetie?â
Finally, his gaze slid up to meet yours.
You were watching him closely.
âIf thatâsâŠOK,â you said.
Well, shit.
Nothing would make him happier.
Still, fighting his base instincts, and just narrowly managing to keep his hold steady, Joel reeled it in.
Every thick, callused finger splayed across your sides was practically humming with primal energy; all the same, his love outweighed the lust. He lowered his voice to only the gentlest of tones and asked you, point-blank:
âIs that OK with you? Do you want me to teach you?â
Waves of chill bumps seemed to answer first: your skin, your eyes, your smile, every breath betraying that eager, nervous need. Then your grip moving from your dress. One hand clasping around his wrist and nudging it in.
You nodded.
You let him brush one sweaty palm across your skin.
Joel lowered without thinking. Sinking to the floor, onto his knees, felt like exactly what he needed to do, and he didnât give a shit if it pulverized his joints beyond repair.
âRight here?â he breathed, now level with your heat.
Wooden floorboards creaked under his weight, and the air swelled thick and warm where he knelt. Sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing the space in a dreamlike sort of haze. Joel inhaled through his nose and almost pitched forward; you hummed your soft assent.
You didnât know what you were doing then.
By what remaining, fraying thread of resolve the man possessed, Joel stopped himself before he went too far.
He blinked fast and moved his hands to your hips, just below where you were holding your dressâs hem for him.
Clinical.
Educational.
Fucking academic was what this would be.
âAnyone ever teach you about her?â Joel asked gently.
A ringing in his ears succeeded that question, louder than anything heâd ever experienced, and he looked up at you. You stared down at him, and one bat of your eyes was all it took to remind him heâd have to take this slow.
âHer?â you murmured.
âYeah. Her.â
Joel wished his hands werenât so big, seeing how easy it was to move his thumb: his palm glided across the slope of your tender mound, and in no time at all, he had a thick, callused pad stroking you over your panties. It traced your seam carefullyâcautiously, like a single wrong move might wind up losing you to him foreverâand then he searched your face. He swallowed, watching the features contort the slightest, slightest bit in yours.
Your breath hitched, and you whimpered.
You spread your thighs a little more.
âPrivate parts haveâŠpronouns?â
That thumb swiped up. It grazed a tiny bud beneath cotton, and in under a second, your lips were twitching again. Your hips stirred, as if beyond your conscious control, and Joel eased off of you. He nodded his head.
ââSâcalled a âvulva,â baby.â Then his palm cupped it. Holding you in place, repeating: clinical, educational, academic like a broken refrain in his mind, over and over again. âThis whole thing. Pronouns make it a little more personal, yâknow? But can you repeat that word for me?â
âVulva.â
The word was foreign on your tongue. You didnât seem acquainted with the taste or the feel, and that forced a tiny line of worry between your eyebrows. Joel went on.
âJust like that, baby. Good. Reckon itâs best you learn about you before we take on any other stuff, for now.â Holding your heat like a weight in his hand, he crooked his fingers, and the pads grazed a smooth, clothed orifice. âNow whatâs this called? You already said it.â
âTheâŠum, vagina.â With a smidge more confidence, you still balked when his index and middle fingers prodded the fabric. That was all he needed for it: two tips poised above that tight, tender hole through the cotton of your underwear, and Joel could sense how acutely you felt it.
You shifted on your feet and let out a sharper noise. You clapped a hand to his shoulder and squeezed it, shortly.
Inundated as he was with desire, Joel kept a firm grip over his self-control. His touch retracted from your heat.
âY-Yeah. Iâm fine. I just feelâŠâ
A beat passed, and it seemed you were looking for words
âIs it normal? I feel a littleâŠweird, andâŠandâŠâ
Still searching. Joel was watching you closely, puzzled.
âYeah, darlinâ? What feels weird? Talk to me.â
At length, the internal foray ended, and you had only to clamp your other palm onto his shoulder, holding tight with both hands and letting your hem drop down again.
A sigh escaped you.
âJoel, IâmâŠIâm justâŠsticky down there.â
You said it, and at the same time, your thighs clenched.
Joel was no longer touching between your legs, but the gesture, along with your half-whispered, half-whimpered words nearly sucked him back in all over again. His head spun. His fingers were practically aching with need, wanting to tug your panties down and show you that this was a good thing, but, as before, restraint stopped him.
Instead, he nodded up at you.
With your palms pressing hard and your body positioned over himâtowering, compared to his obeisant kneelingâJoel could only be sweet. Understanding. Softly coaxing.
âYeah? Wanna show me, sweet pea?â
It took some more effort after that. Cajoling, for one thing, but also assuring you that the sticky, wet feeling you got between your thighs wasnât something to hide but a perfectly normal, natural bodily function of yours. That it helped facilitate the act of sex, as a matter of fact.
âMeans sheâs happy,â Joel said, watching as you peeled your panties downâvery nearly hearing the tacky sound.
Sure enough, the truth came to light. Quite literally, he was proven right with a pool of something thick and crystalline collected at the gusset of your undies; the stuff stretched in a half-dozen strings from the fabric to your drooling cunt, bared to him and pulsing with heat.
Clinical.
Educational.
Fucking academâ
âIt hurts, Joel,â you said.
âHurts?â Joel blinked once. âWhereâs itââ
Suddenly, you were rubbing two fingers between your folds in a crude sort of way. Your underwear was in a puddle at your feet, and your free hand was back at the hem of your dress, lifting it slightly. Joelâs eyes widened.
âRightâRight here. It aches. Make it go away, please.â
âBabyââ
âPlease, Joel. You said you would teach me, right?â
He did, of course.
He just never thought itâd include touching you half-nude
Leaning in on his knees, pretending he wasnât decades your senior, chock-full of grays, and a man who had sworn to your grandmother that he would keep you safe. Ensuring you would be taken care of. Surely, that promise encompassed the perils of men and their darkest intentions, yet, here he was. Basking in your glow, reveling in the heat, sleek, and that fucking scent.
His lips were the first to give way.
They seemed to act of their own volition as they sank in to press a kiss between your ownâlower, and wetter, but still your lips all the sameâand they didnât hesitate. They formed an âoâ directly over your throbbing clit and kissed.
Your stomach clenched in response. Your hips stuttered.
The hand that was clutching your dress jerked to Joelâs salt-and-pepper locks and made a fist, tight as anything.
âJoel,â you whined.
âJoel,â you pleaded.
âJoelâ became the quietest, most plaintive refrain in a matter of seconds, with that old, lined, and weathered mouth latching onto your little nub and suckling her in.
Joel pulled off with a wet pop. He didnât waste time.
âThatâs your clitoris, sweetheart.â Hooded, hazy brown eyes drifted up to meet yours, while your legs trembled around his head. âSensitive, ainât she? Say âclitâ for me.â
Your jaw was slack.
Short, shallow gasps were working their way in and out of your lungs while it seemed you were trying to recover some semblance of propriety, but all that came out was:
âJoelâŠohâŠohâŠâ
ââClit,â baby. Say it back.â
Maybe that was mean. Hell, it definitely was.
Here you were, fighting to make sense of the wild, shocky feeling spiraling up from that tiny bundle of nerves, and he was making you talk your way through it. The smallest grin twitched at the corners of his lips, though he worked hard not to let it show too obviously.
He squeezed one of your thighs and forged on, soft.
âHowâs about it? Got lots more ground to cover.â
You swallowed, finally blinking back at him.
âClâClit. Can you kiss it again, please?â
And Joel did: to reward you, but also to contain the laughter that was no doubt about to be bubbling to the surface if he didnât make use of that mouth of his, fast.
He kissed your clit like heâd done before, smiling against slick, sopping wet flesh and loving on it gently. He licked a ring around the hood and was about to use the tip to lift it upâto really hit your pleasure point and make you squirmâwhen another thought possessed him. Another step, another lesson, another far-too-tempting-to-resist spot where he might continue this campaign of erudition
âEver heard of a thing called a âg-spot,â baby?â Joel said.
You shook your head no.
With your hips tilted toward him and his head in the way, the fabric of your dress hadnât slid down much since youâd let go, but all the same, Joel lifted a hand to grip the hem of it. He coaxed your fingers down while he did.
âWatch as you do it. I want you to put those pretty fingers to use, try and find that place. Can you do that?â
âWhere?â
âInside you.â
âBut Iâwhy?â
âFeels good, trust me.â
Your brows knit in that familiar way; Joel could fall apart with just one look at it. He didnât press, even when your fingers fumbled down your tummy and made a pass through your legsâcompletely unaware of what those digits were meant to do and simply wanting to try. Perhaps youâd hoped to replicate the sensation heâd given you, too, or you wouldnât have moved so quickly.
Swiftly slicking up your fingertips and toying, but making a face when it seemed like you couldnât feel quite the same thing as you had before, you peered down at him.
âIn here?â Your index hovered over a wet, dripping hole.
âRight there, baby. Push it in fâme if you can, alright?â
When you did, Joel had a front row seat; physically, he was no more than five or six inches away while you slid your small, trembling finger through the soaked band of muscle, but it felt like he was in you for the whole thing. Ogling the spectacle of your tight and untouched virgin cunt stretching, then hugging that little digit, before you whimpered and keened his name, was unlike anything heâd ever felt. He knelt between your legs and observed with all the outward practiced detachment of a doctor, though inside, he felt like every inch of him was on fire.
âItâs tight,â you whimpered.
âI know, honey, I knââ
âI donât like it.â
Right as your wrist flicked back to remove that finger, pussy stuffed too full and not in a good way, youâd evidently decided, Joel leapt to act. He didnât even decide so much as he simply listened to your cries.
It hurts, youâd whined above him, Oh, Joel, please.
Suddenly, his thumb was rubbing your clit to dull the ache. Before your index could slide out, his own pushed in alongside it, coaxing that tight, wet ring to stretch with the heft and grit of his hand. Decades of experience preceded him, which made him confident in his words of assurance thenâeven when you grimaced and groaned.
âYouâre OK,â Joel mumbled, nodding when you winced. âYouâre alright, just stings a little beinâ stretched, huh?â
âY-You said it would feel good,â you keened, mournful.
Clearly trying to buck that uncomfortable feeling, you moved back. You stumbled, as your ankles were still trapped within your panties, and Joel had to catch you.
You were close to the sofa; he nudged you toward it, swift enough that he didnât need to move his hand and simply guided you onto the wide, cushioned armrest. Your feet kicked off the cotton, and in a second, you were sittingâstraddlingâthat spot. Joel stepped even closer.
His finger sank another inch, and you looked fit to be tied
âI said, I donâtââ you started, sharp.
ââknow where it is. Lemme help you.â
Joel had another half-minute, maybe. Laying sprawled out like you were, still impaled by his finger and yours, you clearly werenât a fan of this feeling and would be shoving him off at any second. Heâd have to be quick.
So, steeling himself and standing over you on the couch, he pushed in. To the knuckle. His pointer finger was big and warm and ribbed all over with little calluses, and it probably felt like a hot poker was forcing its way inside of your too-tight cunt beside your index, but Joel kept at it. Your muscles pulsed again, a tiny line or two of moisture crawling down his palm with the excess of your desire leaking out, and you grit your teeth. Your heels dug into the couch, and just when it appeared youâd had enough, he felt it. The tip of that probing digit brushed the place.
It was spongy and slick. Solid, but not without some give
Touching it made you squirm worse than anything.
Or, better might be a more accurate assessment.
âOh, baby,â Joel said, relief flooding his tone as he saw it. âThatâs the spot, ainât it? Thatâs that special spot, there.â
Your reply was a light grunt when he stroked it again.
It was like you werenât quite sure how to answer for itâyour body, however, gave its resounding approbation when your walls bore down again and squeezed him.
Clearly, this wasnât a pained hug. You wanted more.
âRemember what we call this spot, sweetheart?â
Syrup practically dripped from every syllable, and Joel didnât refrain from leaning in. Pressing his forehead to yours, bracing his free hand against the sofa cushion behind you, the old man worked his finger back and forth. He dragged your smaller one with it, and he grinned when a hoarse little cry leapt out of your throat.
That wasnât an answer, unfortunately.
Joel held the couch even harder and sawed his finger in and out, grazing that special place with every movement.
âCâmon, darlinâ, I know you ainât forgot it already.â
Your pussy was as full as it had ever been and making wet, squelching sounds each time that your finger and his moved through it. Clearly, your mind wasnât firing on all cylinders, simply soaking in the sensations as you whined, moaned, and rutted your hips. Just precious.
Joel wasnât letting you off that easy, though.
Still stroking, still petting that sensitive flesh, he went on:
âIs this what we call yourâŠclit, honey? Is that what it is?â
Without warning, he pushed a second finger inside, and you hissed. Your own index slid out instinctively, and as if knowing the rest of it by heart, you started rubbing that sweet, pulsing, needy nub like your life depended on it.
âN-N-No, thisâthis is it,â you stuttered. Overcome with the wishing and waitingâwanting to show him what youâd learned, as wellâyou were keen. âThis is my clit.â
Pleasure mustâve bloomed through your lower half when you said it, because your next words were swallowed up in a strangled moan. You tried lifting your hips instead, seeming to say to him: âSee? Iâm really learning, Joel.â
A grin sabotaged his face, and he couldnât contain the urge; Joel leaned in and kissed your forehead. He tilted his chin to steal a glance where you were touching yourself, seeing how urgent those little circles were getting to be, and he couldnât help but feel a sense of awe. Pride. He halted his ministrations just long enough to take a seat on the old couch and pull you into his lap.
Now cradling you, placing sporadic and comforting kisses along your hairline as he returned his fingers to your heat, Joel felt he couldâve melted between the cushions with just one whimper from your lipsâthat was how thoroughly youâd softened him already. He loved it.
âVery good, baby, thatâs your clit.â His thumb covered yours easily and helped it draw little lemniscates over the bud, which made you squirm on top of him. You bit down on your bottom lip when he scissored his fingers inside you. Then he curled them and brushed that place again. âAnd whatâs this, sweetie? Remember what we call her?â
Your brow furrowed.
Clearly, you were trying to think while the pleasure mounted and spiraled. You tilted your chin to him.
âItâsâŠItâs my g-spot, right?â you ventured softly.
âExactly right,â Joel cooed in your ear.
As if to reward you for it, he curled his fingers and tapped that sensitive, special spot over and over again, knowing just what kind of effect it would have on you then. Your breath hitched, and your reflexes sent you lurching toward his chest. You clawed at his t-shirt.
Joel was certain heâd never seen something so goddamn endearing in his life. His smile widened, and he hugged you to him even tighter, not wanting to lose sight of you for even a second. Your legs trembled around his hand.
He nuzzled your cheek.
âThatâs it. Good girl.â
Another clench.
âDaddyâs girl.â
And, as soon as he said the words, your chest heaved. Be it a breath, a whimper, a moan, your whole frame shook with the movement, and suddenly you were peering up at him through your lashes and staring, all glossy-eyed.
âWh-What?â you stammered.
One more plunge of his fingers, and you keened. You looked bewildered, beleaguered, practically bursting at the seams and having only to meet his gaze and squeeze
You were close.
Joel could hear it.
âDaddy?â you repeated, breaths ragged.
Of course, youâd never heard that one before. Joel just nodded his head and let you bask in itâthat feeling of wild curiosity. Perhaps not everything would compute.
He could teach you, but you might not get it just yet.
Seeing this look, and sensing how close you were to your climax, Joel leaned close and kissed your temple before murmuring, low: âYeah. âMânot your old man, but thatâs another word folks like to use sometimes. If you like it, then thatâs all itâs gotta be. Our own little special thing.â
Your fingers tightened at his collar, like a wave was overtaking your body and you couldnât control it.
âIâI donât know. It kindaâŠsorta feelsâŠâ
âWhat? You got a funny feelinâ, baby?â
You nodded.
His fingers had been stretching and pumping and pushing all kinds of fiery sensations inside that tiny space, feeling wet muscles contract around himâit didnât surprise him in the least that you needed some extra time to come. You didnât even know what it was.
âThatâs an orgasm, honey. âSâa good thing. Real good feelinâ, if you just let it build and build for a little bit loââ
âWanna stop,â you hiccuped. âFeels like Iâm gonna pee.â
Joel had to hide a grin behind a bevy of kisses. He kept cradling you, kept fingering your soaked pussy with all the soft, practiced resolve of a man much gentler than heâd ever known himself to be. You werenât pushing him away; he wouldnât force you toward it. He just wanted to guide you to a path that would give you replete pleasure.
Hell, maybe he could even get you to squirt.
âYouâre not gonna pee,â Joel assured you gently. âEven if you did, I wouldnât care. You know your pleasureâs the most important thing, right? âSâwhy Iâm here, baby.â
It seemed to strike you at almost the same moment it did him: this was not only for you, but about you. More than a step above simple pedagogy, Joel was trying to make sure you understood all the inner-workings of sex.
âThatâs makinâ love, yâknow? Takinâ somebodyâs pleasure into your hands and treatinâ them right. Makinâ itâŠgood.â
âMakinâ love,â you repeated, just like youâd done for every other term heâd taught you that day. You drew in a breath
And, at the same time that Joelâs movements slowed with his speechâfingers pumping slower, deeper, to make your insides all but strangle him with just how good it made you feelâsomething stirred in him, too. Hell, it was the first real movement heâd had in ages.
Decades, maybe.
Thank the stage of life that he was in, his lack of access to peri-geriatric care, or his blasted uncooperative cock, but the man hadnât had a real, bona fide erection in a long time. Heâd figured that that would help keep his urges at bay while he was teaching you these things.
Now he was almost fully hard in his jeans. You were about to finish all over his fingers, and then what?
âDaddy,â you whimpered. Your feet kicked and inadvertently brushed over the bulge in his pants. âFaster, please. IâI think that feels even better fâme.â
Joel couldnât have you see it, or feel it, or know exactly what you were doing to him and think that you were in some way responsible for helping out with the rest. No, he wouldnât allow that. This wasnât about him getting off.
He slid your body back. He slotted his own, head-first, between your legs and dove in. Out of sight, he started to grind his lower half into the sofa, but only after youâd taken hold of his hair and rocked your hips into his face.
Thatâs it.
This is for you.
âDaddyâs gonna take real good care of her,â Joel said, as if finishing the thoughts that were brewing in his head. âYou just lie back anâ close your eyes. Soak it all in, OK?â
And you did.
When he reared back and spit on your pussy, smeared it in with his fingers and panted again, just for good measure, âWhatâs the word for all this, baby? What do we call her?â, you raggedly answered. You told him that it was your vulva, and then you moaned so loudly that Joel thought it might blow his eardrums out. He rutted his denim-clad cock into the couch and kept going. Pleasure spiraled from some of the furthest recesses of his gut, and he dragged his warm, wet, silver-stubbled mouth up your slit, glistening with saliva and your own arousal.
âSmart girl,â Joel murmured appreciatively. Licking lines around your clit, before dropping a quick kiss over it. âAnd whatâs this little button called, baby? It feel good?â
You replied by digging your heels into the couch first, head lolling back on the armrest. Then, light as anything:
âMy clit. ItâIt feels so good when you do that, Daddy.â
âWhen Daddy kisses her and licks on her some?â
âGives me thatâŠfunny feelinâ all over again.â
Joel could say the same for himself. Something tightened in his balls, right as he humped the cushion with a little more force, and then he knew it, without a shadow of a doubtâthat old, worn, once-dysfunctional member of his was now engorged with blood and stiff. He could probably fuck his fist once and blow his load.
He tried to ignore it.
He pushed two fingers to the rim of your cunt, feeling tender, taut flesh bar his entry again, and he worked his way through it. Delicate as ever, your hole spread for him.
âAnd this?â he asked.
You told him.
He slid in deeper, and before he could even inquire after that ridged, sensitive wall of your insides, you stuttered:
âTh-That oneâs my g-spot, Daddy. ThatâsâThatâsââ
Joel sucked your throbbing clit between his lips and flicked the tip of his tongue, just as his fingers curved in.
âThat feels good, Daddy, please.â
Your pussy pulsed against him; it wet his silver beard in streaks and left him groaning between your legs, dry-humping the old couch like he was an animal in heat.
He was much, much too old for you.
This was just a learning experience.
One measly orgasm and then heâdâ
âFaster, faster, Daddy. P-P-Please.â
Joel pistoned his fingers and flicked his tongue and sucked mercilessly on that little nub until you squealed.
âLet it happen, baby. Come for Daddy,â he beckoned.
âCome? Where?â
âHere.â
And with that, Joel crooked his fingers one last time and made you finish on his tongue. You didnât squirt, but your whole body convulsed, and you kicked your feet and made those pretty little whiney sounds and pulled his hairâas if you were stunned by whatever was happening to your body, your thighs clenched around his head and damn near yanked out half the grays. Joel kept licking and fingering and mumbling sweet nothings all the while
Pretty girl.
Precious girl.
Daddyâs girlâyou were everything, everything to him.
Heat flooded his jeans, and he didnât even realize it.
It took him more than a couple seconds; heâd just finished lapping up the last of your release and was trying to catch his breath, panting and blinking and savoring your taste, when that recognition dawned.
The man had reached his peak entirely untouched.
Sticky and warm, trickling down his front, it went quietly.
Joel swallowed and propped himself up on an elbow, meeting your gaze with a hot and semi-hooded stare.
He needed to clean up. He needed to get out of there.
Suddenly, you reached for him, fingers outstretched.
âDaddy.â
It sounded so sweetâstill as innocent as ever.
You had no fucking idea how badly he wanted you now. How much he hated himself for even taking as much as he had. But he did, and nothing else would take it back.
He really, really needed to go.
âAre we gonna make love now?â Your smile was crooked.
Joel sat up. His mind was clear. Conscience was fucked.
He shook his head as he wiped his mouth of you.
âNo. We arenât,â he answered, pushing to stand.
He turned before you could see the spot in his jeans. Before you could protest, he hardened his voice out of necessity and, already striding from the couch, said:
âLessonâs over. Put on your underwear, sweetheart.â
The look you gave him then couldâve broken him in two. It was raw and soft and hurt, clearly. You blinked a little faster as you sat up, dress falling back down to cover your modesty and everything the two of you had done.
âButââ
âDonât talk back to me, neither,â Joel forged on, despising every syllable coming out of his mouth. He was already at the threshold of the room and turning away. âWhatever happened today was teachinâ, remember?â
You blinked again, eyes glossier than a moment before.
You rocked back on your heels and tried to stand, but Joel was already retreating. He pursed his lips together, throat clearing and the most flimsy, pathetic veneer of paternal concern working to stabilize his tone. It failed.
âB-But, Daddy, IâI thoughtââ
His voice audibly cracked when he curtailed your speech.
âAinât nothing, honey.â He shook his head against the lie. âThis was wrong. If you wanna pout and whine âbout it, best head into your room, âcause I donât wanna hear it.â
That made your lip curl in surprise. Soft, muted fury.
You made a fist at your side as he turned on his heel.
And, though he tried moving fastâpretending to shrug off the moment and trudge his way out through the door like nothing had happenedâhe evidently couldnât make it quick enough. Over his shoulder, he heard your voice.
Having just made it onto the porch and felt the warmth of the outdoors on his skin, it was as faint as anything. A slight breeze, along with the crushing weight of knowing how badly he was fucking this up, greeted him swiftly, but not before your words reached him. Joel swallowed.
That hurt just about as bad as anything heâd ever felt.
He knew he was wrong, especially hearing you sob:
âDaddy, please come back.â
Your body was abuzz from head to toe.
Anticipation was one thing, and hatred was anotherâboth feelings seemed to be at war within you constantly.
Though, really, you didnât hate Joel, and judging by the way things had panned out lately, you likely never could. A week had passed since your little âlessonâ with the man, and nothing had ever made you feel so shaken. Or lonely.
One moment being the most precious thing in a personâs eyes, only to fall from that staggering height to nothing. Joel had up and left and brushed you to the wayside, leaving you to clench your fists and kick and cry like a child throwing a fit. But you werenât. You were a full-grown adult trying to learn what sex meant, and damn if you didnât feel the sting of being abandoned so easily.
You wanted to hate him more than anything else.
You wished with every fiber in your being not to need a man like him, but you did. It confused you, particularly during moments like these when youâd sneak off to his bedroom in the early morning hoursâheâd offered to take you fishing that day, and youâd declined. Now you were in this cabin alone, sifting through all his jackets, flannels, and chambray shirts hanging in the closet and hoping youâd locate one that smelled the most like him.
One you could get off with, maybe.
âOw,â you murmured presently, having hit your knee on the little hickory nightstand before clambering into bed.
You slid the long-sleeve on. You shuffled forward for a pillow, then grabbed it. Following the same four or five steps youâd been replicating since That Dayâseeking identical pleasure and failing spectacularly each timeâyou stuffed the big, bulky, feather-filled cushion between your thighs and pressed on. You let your eyes droop shut.
Good girl.
Daddyâs girl.
âSâwhat you are, right? All miâ
You pivoted and gripped the footboard, bracing your knees even harder against the bed. So what if you needed to wear his shirts and reminisce on all the delicious, filthy words heâd spoken to you just days ago? It wasnât like you were wailing for the guyâs attention.
That would have been embarrassing. Sad, and all-too predictable for a girl who had been raised without the influence of a male all her lifeâweepy and needy wasnât what you hoped to emulate. You wanted to be tough and self-sufficient, just like it appeared Joel had always been.
You wanted to eat, sleep, read and write and cry yourself to sleep whenever you needed it, alone, so long as it meant you wouldnât have to feel what you had back then, rejected by someone else. That, more than anything, made you realize how dependent you truly were.
This wasnât working.
After five minutes humping at a pillow like your clit was on fire, you didnât feel a thing. Well, other than defeat.
âYouâve gotta be kidding me.â You tugged Joelâs shirt tighter around you, blew out a breath, and leaned back.
Your eyes scanned the roomâfor what, you werenât sure.
Youâd been in here plenty of times before, whether you were cleaning or doing Joelâs laundry or whatever the case may have been, so your surroundings were familiar: old, five-drawer dresser across the way, stacks of quilts that shouldâve been shelved ages ago, little trinkets here and there, a canteen hanging off the side of a ladder back chair, and then a desk, wide and shining and empty.
Finely ground specks of pine littered the surface of it.
This was where Joel did his woodworking. Off to the side, a partway-whittled bucking bronc stood, aloof.
You rose from the bed and walked to it.
Maybeâmost likelyâyou were stupid. Joel had all but told you this to your face. Your fingers were small and helpless, and they couldnât reach nearly close enough to where you needed them; they didnât know what to touch.
What if you justâŠ
Your brain didnât get the chance to finish that thought. Your body acted first, and time sped up as soon as it did.
Before you knew itâand damn, were you so, so stupidâyou had a hand on a tool. Vaguely recalling the name, some quarter-inch straight chisel or other, you held it up. Set it down. Shook your head, like this was the single dumbest idea youâd had in your life, then took it again.
You grabbed it and examined the handle briefly.
It was wooden and rounded, maybe three inches in diameter. Five inches long. You hadnât the faintest idea as to what the appropriate size for aâŠsubstitute should be, or what the real deal even looked like, for that matter. All you knew was that man parts were hard, and probably much longer than any one of your fingers. You sat up on the woodworking stool and slid the chisel between the tails of Joelâs worn, buttoned shirt.
You were wet. That was the byproduct of thinking of him and humping a pillow mercilessly, plus brushing your fingers through your folds a few times that morning.
But you were tight, too. As if trying to stick your finger through a concrete wall, your walls wouldnât budge an inch. If anything, the more you tried it, the more your body started clamming up and shutting anything out. You held the tool upright in your fist, tried sinking down, and, in a too-quick move, damn near slip-n-slided your silly, virginal rear end off the chair and onto the floor. You clamped your legs together and let out a wretched sigh.
âJustâŠgoâŠinside,â you pleaded helplessly. Missing Joelâs thick, callused fingers and wishing he wasnât such a dick, you tried thinking of him. Attempted imagining his voice.
âHey, sweetheart?â
Then the bedroom door flew open.
Your hand released, and immediately, you jumped in place. Out of habit, your palms slammed on the table, like, I have nothing to hide, and you made a pass for the half-finished horse figurine. You grabbed it thoughtlessly.
Right as you flipped the thing upside down, pretending to study the base and looking for anything to fix your gaze on, Joel walked in. His footfalls echoed behind you.
A light touch grazed the nape of your neck.
âHi, baby.â
âHi, Daddy.â
It slid out without you thinking, like that was natural.
You tried covering it up as quick as you could anyhow.
Turning to face him, chisel still trapped between your thighs, and wearing nothing but the shirt on your back which also happened to be his, you held your arms out.
For the first time in a week, you smiled at him.
Joel hugged you after you set his latest creation down, and you could feel how surprised he was in that embrace. You hadnât gone near him in days, and the last things youâd said to him, apart from, âNo, thanksâ when heâd asked you to tag along on his fishing trip that morning, had been, âWhateverâ and âLeave me alone.â
You were bratty and full of anger. Who could blame you?
Now you were back to being his pet, or at least behaving like it. Joel seemed to heave the smallest sigh of relief as he stroked your head, kissed the crown of it, and rubbed your back. Told you all about the trout that heâd caught and the bear tracks he found, the sights he wished youâd been there to see and the flowers that he picked for you.
âSittinâ in a jug in the kitchen if you wanna see âem,â Joel said, eyes glittering as he stroked your cheek. He really did seem to miss touching. âLupines, just like you like.â
You tilted your face away from his fingers, smile tight.
âThank you, Joel. I appreciate that.â
And, although the words, along with the slight movement away from his touch, were likely more than enough to clue him into the fact that you were still cageyâmaybe turn a weaker man away from you, discouragedâJoel just stood straighter. Hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and surveyed the table out in front of you.
âIâll clean the fish. You sit back, sniff them pretty flowers I picked ya, and afterward, Iâll show you how to whittle. Howâs that sound?â The man wore an easy look. Underneath several decades of wrinkles, you could make out an expression that was lighthearted and jovial still.
You had a wood chisel about one inch shy of your pussy.
With that in mind, you shook your head and pressed on:
âI wanna try learninâ on my own first. Thatâs what Iâve been doing, sittinâ here and admiring your handiwork.â
Lie.
âGet started in the kitchen, and Iâll be out in a little bit. Wanna try the, umâŠpush-cut technique I read about.â
Whatever that fucking means.
Youâd heard Joel mention it maybe once.
In reality, you simply needed an excuse to get him out of your hair so he wouldnât notice that you werenât wearing pants underneath that oversized long-sleeve shirt of his.
âWell, shoot, I can show you that right now, sweetie.â
Before you could protest his kindness, Joel bent over you, over the table, and reached for a coffee can full of loose materials. He took what seemed like a regular knife
If looks could kill, the man wouldâve dropped on the spot.
Your body sagged a little in your seat, and you crossed your thighs tighter to make sure that the tiny metal-and-wood gadget in between them wouldnât budge an inch.
Joel held his project up to the light.
âSeeâŠwhatever you do, you gotta keep a real tight grip on the base. Like this.â He demonstrated by holding the flared bottom of the woodblock. âWrist is always steady.â
Just shoot you in the head.
Wondering if tetanus might not be a legitimate concern in the event that the rusted chisel nicked your skin, you sat in stiffened silence. You listened to Joel wax poetic on finding the grain, saw how invested he was in sharing all the things he knew about his beloved hobby, and felt his palm fall next to yours on the table. He nudged you playfully, and the warmth of that touch made it hard not to remember. Just a week ago, the two of you together.
Then nothing.
âThis was wrong.â
âWanna try it out yourself?â
Joel was still standing over you, still smiling, and the look on his face as he held out that mini cottonwood figurine made you want to say yes. You lifted your hand to take it.
Then Joel glanced down, grin stretching wider still.
âGonna wanna use the quarter-inch straight chisel, hon. Why donât you take that out from in between your legs and hand it over to me?â he pressed. He didnât blink.
For a second, your world stood still.
Your breath hitched in your throat.
Meanwhile, Joelâs was flowing easy. He extended his free hand out to you, crooking his fingers in a âgive itâ motion.
You didnât thinkâprobably couldnât have done it anyway. Your eyes were glazed, and your heart was thrumming at at least a hundred beats per minute while you unstuck your legs from the seat. Numbly, you parted your thighs.
You pried the little chisel out of place and held it, shaky.
Joelâs expression above you was bafflingly calm. Like this was an everyday occurrence, he just took the tool that youâd retrieved for him, and then he turned it in his hands. Gave you a once-over that seemed curious.
Amused, even.
âIâm sorry,â you spit out. âItâsâŠItâs gross, I know. Iâmââ
âânot mad at you, darlinâ. Ainât a thing to be sorry for.â
Joel shook his head, and in that low, rasping drawl, you sensed more than just an effort to console. His words were slow, like he was spoon-feeding you honey, and affection bled through every note. He focused on you.
His expression softened even more, if that were possible.
âIâm sorry,â he said. âIâm sorry, darlinâ. This is my fault.â
You stood.
You didnât wait for him to tell you not to go, and you moved to leave. More than halfway across the room, you only stopped when he stepped in front of you, hands out.
Pleading with you gently.
âBabyââ
âStop calling me that!â you snapped, all rancor and heat. âQuit callinâ me sweetheart, and honey, and darlinâ, and whatever other name you thinkâll make this all OK again.â
You could barely think having him this close to you, but you went on anyway: âWouldnât hear one word of that when you left me alone last week. We did what we did, and then you made me feel like I did something wrong!â
Joelâs expression splintered on hearing that. Above you, it was clear that there was a pain behind itâhe wanted to reach out and touch youâbut he had to control himself. Instead, he swallowed the big lump and shook his head.
âWasnât nothinââŠnothinâ wrong that you did,â he croaked.
âWas it?â you said, voice cracking in the same way. âBecause you havenât been able to look at me all week, and every time it feels like we might talk, you just leave.â
ââCause I was in the wrong. I shouldnât have done any of those things andâŠand stolen your innocence from you.â
âBut I asked you to!â
âDonât make no difference. âMâtoo old, and I shouldnâtââ
ââleave me to feel like Iâm an idiot!â
âYouâre notââ
âLike Iâm broken and useless and stupid.â
You probably couldâve talked until you were blue in the face, and Joelâs expression only wouldâve grown more distraught. He ran a hand through curls of black and gray and seemed to be making a concerted effort not to let his fingers shake as he did. He faltered in front of you.
He felt for his breast pocket, brows bunching together.
âBaby, you gottaâŠâ He stopped himself shortly. Swallowed like something got stuck in his throat. âBelieve me, ainât none of that true. Wasnât nothinâ you didâand you shouldnât feel like you need to be usinâ my woodworking tools, neitherâŠShould be somethinââŠreal.â
You couldnât read his expression at the last.
Still, you knew what you hoped it meant.
âSo show me,â you said. âTeach me.â
Your voice was weak. His lowered.
âYou know why I canât do that.â
Every spot, scar, and wrinkle gracing those weathered, middle-aged features seemed to harden at once. He wore a stern look, like a fatherâs, and didnât budge when you reached out to touch. Just lifted a hand to his chest.
And, sliding something small out of his breast pocket:
âI stopped into town. Got you this.â
A little hand-held mirror.
You took it.
What for?
And you asked him that.
Watched Joel shift from foot to foot as you held it up.
The look in his eyes should have been answer enough. They told you, without prevarication, what this mirror was for. It was up to you to make sense of it yourself.
You took a seat on the bed.
Joelâs bed, big, broad, and soft as a cloud, made for the perfect space to do this. You didnât have to think about it.
âLike this?â you asked him.
Joel stiffened where he stood. The moment you leaned back and set your heels apart on the bedâfacing him directly, with nothing but his shirttails keeping you covered thenâhe scrubbed a hand down his beard.
He stared no lower than your collarbone.
You sat the mirror between your legs.
âNot here,â Joel said, jaw clenched.
The glass was rounded with a handle.
Perfect for holding it an inch away fromâ
âBaby,â Joel cut in, a little more choked. âI meant alone.â
âThen go.â
You were tired of feeling spinelessâsomething naĂŻve and meek and incapable of doing things on her own. Guilty as Joel may have felt, it didnât change the fact that you had needs, same as him. If he didnât want to see this, so be it.
You lifted the ends of your shirt to take a look at yourself.
The mirror was propped up on the comforter, affording you a near-perfect view of what had made you curious.
She was pretty. Plush. Simple.
Youâd never gotten a glimpse at her from an angle like this, but with one look, you realized why the female form had held so many captive for as long as the human race existed. You had powerâreal, tangible powerâinside it.
Joelâs mind seemed to mirror your every thought to a T.
His gaze had tripped from your neck to your shoulders, down your stomach and toward your center. Once it landed on open, dripping folds, it was like they froze him.
Rooting the stubborn, stern, frowning old man into place, your pussy worked like a spell. That knowledge alone was enough to send your muscles pulsing for him.
For yourself, you corrected.
Your pleasure came first.
âBabyâŠâ Joel trailed off.
He stared, and he sulked, right as your middle and ring fingers teased a line up your aching slit. You were so wet that the most featherlight of touches got them soaked.
Joel swallowed again, bracing both hands on his hips.
âDarlinâââ
âWhat did I say about names, Daddy?â you cut in. You teased him with the D-word at the same time you found your clit, and a ripple of pleasure pulsed through you. âDonât talk sweet if youâre not gonna treat me like it.â
You surprised yourself with just how steady you spoke. Similarly, Joel seemed to be stunned himself. He took a step forward so that heâd be stood at the foot of the bed.
ââMâalways sweet on you,â he mumbled. ââŠainât I?â
âMaybe when you feel like it,â you countered.
You made a messy circle with your fingers.
Then another, and another, and another. Sensations rose sharp and hot, further heightened by eyes on your body.
âWhen you need it,â Joel rebutted once more.
His voice was stern. Underneath it, though, a tortured man was trying to claw his way out. Fighting for control.
Losing the battle momentarily, he leaned in.
Hands still on his hips, eyes still glued between your legs, in an act that you wouldâve deemed crude were it done just about anywhere else, Joel bent forward and spit.
A glob of saliva landed squarely between your fingers, almost too perfect for you to believe after youâd seen it.
But then you felt it: warm moisture mixing with yours, motions circling faster and faster around that little bud, Joelâs gaze growing even more intent as he watched you.
There was a frown on his face, but he was crumbling.
âWant Daddy to be sweet on you, huh? Is that it?â
The answer he received came in the form of your fingers sliding between your desperate, clenching, needy walls.
One inch.
One measly inch, and then they stopped.
That was all you could fit inside. You whimpered, shrill.
âDaddy, âsâtoo tight. Canât go any deeper.â
âAnâ what did I teach you âbout squeezinâ? âBout keepinâ her nice anâ wet so the stretch ainât so painful goinâ in?â
That line of questioning was pointless, clearly.
You were drenched. Your legs were spread, revealing a wet, drooling pussy practically soaking straight through his comforter. The fingers youâd tried to push in wriggled
Joel grabbed the mirror.
âWhatâs this for?â
With your fingertips otherwise occupied, the man was free to thumb at your clit while holding the mirror to it. Your hips bucked instinctively, and it was like you could hear the arousal trickling out of you. Joelâs eyes slid up.
âWell?â
So this was a review, apparently.
You babbled, âMy clitâs forâfor makinâ me feel good.â
âAnâ where else can you do that?â
âHere.â
Again, your fingers tried to slide in to locate your g-spot, but the effort was fruitless. Your hole was as tight as anything, and you simply didnât have the grit to get it in.
âHere?â
So Joel did it for you.
With one thick, sure finger, he split your digits apart and entered your pussy pushing in between them. Languidly.
He held the mirror with more force, sawing the finger of his other hand back and forth to coax you open. To no oneâs surprise, it was an easier go. Though one of Joelâs was almost as thick as the two of your own, this stretch was good. The pleasure it elicited made your jaw slacken.
And, just as a gasp left your lips, Joel put the mirror down. He reached for the back of your neck and, angling your chin to your chest, made you watch your reflection.
With the mirror resting between your legs, you had a front row seat to see it all: Joelâs finger dragging in and out, a tiny, gaping âoâ in its wake, your arousal trailing it.
Heâd done this before, but it was your first time watching
You loved it.
You loved how lewd it looked with this big, coarse, liver-spotted hand flexing back and forth, making a finger disappear and reappear outside your pussy over and over again. You relished the sight of your juices trickling down his palm and wrist. You adored the grip at the nape of your neck, how Joel kneeled into the bed and lowered his mouth beside your ear, telling you the filthiest of things while he fingered you. âMissed her Daddy, didnât she?â and âThatâs it, open fâmeâ made you dizziest.
Then Joel told you to strip down.
Your fingers trembled with the buttons of your shirtâluckily, youâd only done three or fourâand you got it off. You shrugged the thing behind you while Joel added a second finger, and you spread your thighs even wider.
It was a tight fit without his tongue to help. Whimpering and whining and murmuring, âDaddy, please,â you made the sting evident, and that was when he started petting your g-spot. At the same time, to your surprise, Joel leaned down and took one of your nipples in his mouth.
The pleasure together was mind-numbing. Joel licked and sucked while his fingers drove in relentlessly; his tongue lapped over that hard, pebbled flesh and smeared the skin all over with saliva. He panted.
âThis isâŠanother spot,â he managed raggedly.
Another lick. Another loud, wet pop of his lips.
Your pussy clenched so tight around his fingers you feared you might cut off the circulation, and you moaned
Erogenous zones, Joel muttered against you.
And what a gift it was to be toldâshownâwhere to find your pleasure. To have the doors thrown open wide and nudged inside that special, private place with the help of someone else. Perhaps the act wasnât so much a loss of control on Joelâs part, but simply that: giving. You hoped he didnât feel guilty again, and could enjoy this with you.
A minute later, you were watching yourself come undone
Trembling, fluttering, pulsing around Joelâs fingers while he sucked your nipple between his teeth, like he was feasting on you, you were inundated with ecstasy.
A shrill, pleasured shriek starved you breathless. Spit leaked and dribbled down your chin. The sight of your pussy getting stuffed with Joelâs fingers, at the same time he practically tongue-bathed your chest within an inch of his life, drove you wild beyond all understanding.
You pawed at him the second that your orgasm receded.
âM-More, Daddy,â you whimpered, greedy. âPlease.â
No making sense of it then: you were desperate.
Beside you, Joel was sucking in deep, shuddering breaths and blinking furiously, as if trying to clear his field of vision or shake his head of some ugly thought.
You touched his chest, and he lurched backward.
He was doing it again.
âJoelââ you tried his name, gentle.
âIâI canât.â He shook his head. âWe gotta stop.â
âBut you donât wanna. Youâre just sayinâ that now.â
You were out of breath, panting on the bed, and you realized then with some embarrassment that you were completely naked. Joel was clothed. He started to stand.
The old man had a look on his strained, weathered face like heâd witnessed fifteen wars firsthand. He braced a hand against a bedpost, clenching his jaw, and when your hand reached out to touch him again, he balked.
Groaned.
You mustâve nicked him someplace painful, inadvertently
Glancing down, you saw your hand atop a denim mound.
That hadnât been your intention. Youâd meant to grab at his belt loops and pull him close, help him see that he wouldnât be doing you wrong, but your palm had landed on his crotch instead. You werenât sure what this meant, but you couldnât help but recall the noise heâd made when you straddled him early that morning at Tommyâs place. It sounded eerily familiarâand you really hoped you hadnât fucked things up and hurt Joel in some way.
âIâm sorry!â you squeaked, yanking your hand back. âIâmâ Iâ I didnât mean to, I promise. Did I hurt you, Daddy?â
âGoââ Joel swallowed. Turned. âGo to your room, baby.â
Your heart sank.
Youâd run him off again.
How many times would it take for this to be enough? When would you not be messing things up so pitifully?
You sniffled at the same time Joel took a step away.
His back was facing you, and his gait was unsteady.
Just as you started to slide off the bed, about to scamper off naked and humiliated, you stopped.
Joel halted where he stood, torso folding in slightly.
âDaddy!â you cried.
Before you knew it, you were in front of him. Hugging him. Trying to fit your arms around that thick, sturdy waist and babbling incoherently, something to the effect of, âAre you alright?â and, âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry!â
Something poked your stomach.
The reason that you werenât able to fit your wrists around his back, you swiftly realized, was that something was standing at a perpendicular angle from Joelâs lower half.
You pulled back. You stared.
Joel was already hastening to shove the appendage away, but you saw it, clear as day: all of that was him.
He mustâve tugged it out of his jeans in the split-second that heâd been turned, hissing through his teeth and saying some words you were half-certain you werenât allowed to repeat. Now Joel was fisting the thing, all thick and angry and pink, like it were something bad.
For some reason, the sight made your mouth water.
âDaddy?â And it was more a breath than a question.
Joelâs expression hardened, same as it had earlierâonly this time, there was a tinge of pain behind it. He grunted.
âDarlinâ,â he said, stern. âThis is a grown man problem. Donât want you havinâ to deal with none of it fâme, OK?â
âBut Iâm grown, too.â
You said it without thinking.
It was like a primal drive cut in, and your mind spun.
Your fingers trembled by your sides, and when you stole a look at Joel, you saw him eyeing you steadily. Chest rising and falling in shallow breaths and teeth grinding.
âSweetheartââ he started to warn.
âCan I touch him? JustâŠjust a little.â
Your voice was soft as you asked him.
Your movements were slow as you approachedâyou didnât touch until Joel had breathed a fierce sound through his nose and jerked his chin once. Assent.
It was as if he were actively trying to deter you.
And it wouldnât workâyou were reaching out.
Your fingers curled around flesh that was hard and warm, and intrigue blossomed from the tips of your toes to the lips that wanted to grin at the feeling. Your eyes peered down, and you saw it, plain as anything: thisâŠthing in your grip was dense. Long. Veiny. Flushed. And rigid.
It amazed you just how big the flesh could swell, and how hard it had gone underneath your touch. Holding him like you might a length of rope, you couldnât even reach your middle finger to your thumbâthat was how thick he was. You probably shouldâve been frightened by the size, but instead, you found yourself admiring him. Ogling one small, shiny pearl of moisture sitting atop the rounded end and feeling your mouth start to water again.
Joel let out another rumbling sound.
He pried you off by your wrist.
âThere. You touched âim.â
âDaddyâsâŠpenis, right?â
You knew that heâd taught you the word before already; you just liked the way his pupils dilated when you said it.
And, sure enough, Joelâs irises were swallowed up.
His throat bobbed. He put a hand on his zipper.
âYeah. Now Daddy needs to take care of âim.â
He took a load off in the easy chair behind him, collapsing with a sigh. You didnât follow at first.
You just watched, enrapt, while Joel planted his feet wide on the floor and fisted his length, eyeing you close.
A grown manâs problem.
Not yours. Not now.
âCanât even stay hard,â Joel said suddenly. Humorless. âTakes me moreân an hour on a good day. Thatâs why I say itâs a problem for me, not a little thing like yourself.â
That made you bristle.
You stepped closer. ââLittle thingâ?â
âYou know what I mean. Donât got nothinâ to do with your beinâ a full adultâwhich you areâbut your experience. Years you got under your belt.â And in a semi-ironic gesture, Joel hooked a thumb through a denim loop and tugged his jeans lower, exposing more of himself to you.
Spit burned in your throat going down. It was the most infuriating thing; knowing your body was just as good and ready as his, but because Joel deemed you littleâŠ
You walked to where he was and got on your knees. Kneeling, you saw the man tense and sit up taller.
âThat wasnât no invitation, sweetheartââ
âI want you to treat me like Iâm grown.â
And really, that was all you could say.
No amount of pleading eyes or pawing, needy hands, fingers curling into fists and demanding in a shrill voice, âTreat me as an equal, Joelâ would ever accomplish what you managed with the uttering of those nine little words.
For the first time, Joel looked like he understood.
Leaning forward, squeezing the base of his length in one hand and cupping your face with the other, he hummed.
âThat what you want?â Thumbing at your cheek.
You nodded. You softened under that touch.
âCâmere, baby.â
Câmere.
Come to daddy.
The next thing you felt was a set of lips on yours; Joel kissed you gently. His mouth was warm and soft and tender beyond all comprehension, drawing you to him and tasting you by turns. Heat fluttered low in your belly, and before the rest of your body could even fully respond to it, he was pulling back. His lips shone, red and swollen.
Smiling.
ââSâwhat I wanted to do this whole time,â he murmured, sounding a little bit sheepish as he said it. âShouldâve been the first thing I didâthatâs how real folks do it.â
Frankly, you were too light-headed to reply.
You nodded airily, jaw hanging slack.
âNow whereâs my sweet girl?â
That you could answer without words. So you did.
Letting Joel capture your lips again, setting your hands on either one of his denim-clad thighs and rising off your heels. Kissing him, and feeling the vibrations of a groan.
Hearing him stroke himself faster, then pulling from him.
Gaping.
âYâknow what made him so hard, baby?â Joel asked you, expression going a bit more lax while he rubbed himself. Evidently, whatever he was doing felt good. âTell Daddy.â
So he was still in teaching mode.
Your spit was practically leaking out in strings at either side of your mouth, but you managed to steel yourself.
âA-Arousal,â you stammered. Swallowing. âYour penis gets big whenever youâre aroused, uh, seeinâ something.â
âAnd what did Daddy see?â
Your face heated.
âWellâŠâ
Joel drew closer, eyes bright and glistening.
âYou can tell me, darlinâ.â
Another beat.
âMe?â
Very good, baby seemed to shine in every blink of that honeyed gaze, and Joel bent forward to kiss the tip of your nose, then your cheek. You preened under his touch.
âThatâs right. You made Daddy so hard,â he murmured.
Trapped between wanting to curl up on Joelâs lap and soak in all his praise and actually hoping to learn another lesson, you let him take the lead. You tilted your chin with the beckoning of his forefinger and thumb, and you squeezed his legs harder, toes curling underneath you.
In his fist, Joelâs length was ruddy-looking and flushed. The little bead of liquid at the tip had grown even bigger, but the sight was fleeting. At the next possible opening, Joel slid his palm up and over that end and stroked it rapidly. He smeared the moisture over his dick and, peering down at you with an almost curious look, widened the spread of his legs. He shifted closer.
âIâm an old man,â he said, a little deflated. Shaking his length near your face. âHe donâtâŠstay hard for very long.â
You swallowed.
You watched Joel continue to pump himself, but it was clear those motions were slowing. His member was beginning to soften in his hold, sagging at the tip.
âDaddyâŠâ you whined. You didnât like to see him sad.
âCouple kisses from your pretty lips might wake âim up, though. Could yaâŠCould ya do that fâme, hon? Kiss âim?â
You didnât think twiceâyou treated it just like you did with his mouth before. You bent down and kissed him right on the thick, glistening head, all round and pink.
Joel groaned.
He cursed again.
âThatâs it, baby,â he praised you, voice strained.
You were starting to get the sense that certain grunts of painâor what sounded like them to your earsâwere really more bound up in pleasure. Because of this, you went on, quietly, âThat feel OK, Daddy? ThatâŠbetter?â
âTen times better,â Joel hissed through his teeth. Releasing his hold on your face to grip the armrest. âThatâThatâs what Daddy likes. Little game of lollipop, huh?â
You cocked a brow at him.
Joel chuckled, ââSâwhat itâs like, right? Lickinâ a lollipop.â
Hearing that, you couldnât keep your lips from twitching.
Okay. Lollipop.
That made it more fun.
When Joel held his big, still partly flaccid length out to you again, you acted even quicker. You kissed his tip, and then, not needing to map it out, you pressed your lips to the side, the base, someplace near the thatch of black of gray hair by his tummy, peppering pecks. It was a game.
And your old man seemed to be enjoying it thoroughly, as his hips jerked with every other movement of your mouth. You stuck out your tongue and licked a stripe, and you heard a low, prolonged growl peel out of him.
âThatâs it, sweetheart. Thatâs a good fuckinâ girl.â
You licked the warm, gummy flesh again and relished the taste. That texture, frustrating as it may have been for Joel, was tantalizing all the same. You reached up and replaced Joelâs hand with yours, and strangely, you loved the feel of his dick all soft and wormy beneath your fist.
Your old man.
You peered up and met with scars, slightly sagging skin, silver-flecked hairs, a wide, bushy trail that spanned all the way to his navel over a heaping mound of muscle and fat. Joel was thick, and he showed his years through every inch of his body. Words couldnât begin to describe how much you loved that, and how feral it made you feel.
Parting your lips, about to stick out your tongue to give him another long, wet, and tender lick, Joel stopped you.
He twitched in your palm.
âBaby, how âbout you put Daddyâs penis in your mouth?â
He said it so softâso ragged and broken and wanting, by the sound of itâthat you almost froze on the spot. Spit smeared your lips and down your chin, falling in little droplets onto his jeans every now and then, and your mouth hovered over the head of him. Your eyes rounded.
âLikeâŠLike this?â you stammered. Lowering.
You took his tip between your lips; it started out with a kiss, just suckling the edge, but then, swiftly, your mouth opened up around him and stretched. Your jaw ached to accommodate his girth, and with just one inch, you felt the sting of what seemed like ten. You gagged, not used to that sensation, and your head jerked back by instinct.
You expected Joel to be put offâirritated, even.
But when you turned a coy look his way, you were surprised to find his eyes heavy-lidded and glazed. Expression as limp as everâhis member stirring stiffer near your lips and between your fingers, simultaneouslyâhe watched you. He nodded. He sucked in half a breath
And when he spoke again, it was like he really was in pain
âHoneyâŠâ Dick swelling nearly to full-size in your fist. Hand moving from the armrest to lay flat on the crown of your head, a little shaky. âDarlinâ, IâmâIâmâ I canât last.â
You were about to question that, confused as to how one little suck of your mouth could make him so squirmish all of a sudden, but then Joelâs other hand was moving, too.
This one reached lower.
It shoved his pants and boxers down, almost to the point of the fabric pushing past his thighs, and then you saw it.
More squishy stuff.
It wasnâtâŠpart of Joelâs dick per se but rather sat at the base. Hairy and round and plush in a funny-looking duo.
âYâknow whatâs in there, baby?â Joel murmured.
You had no idea. You said as much in a shrug.
That made Joel stiffen more, teeth flashing.
A soft chuckle, âGuess we never got to that part, huh?â
For a second, you were puzzled. In the next, you were being lifted to your feet. You mightâve stumbled, except Joel picked you up and carried you all the way to the bed.
You landed with a soft thud and saw Joel undressing before youâd even regained your bearings. As with most things he did, the man was relatively slow-moving and careful, but there was a grit and a resolve just the same.
He unbuttoned his flannel shirt and didnât unglue his gaze from you once. He kicked off his boots, toed off his socks, and when he got to his boxers and jeans, he put a hand on one of the closest bedposts and paused, briefly.
âBaby.â
You were lying sprawled out over the bedspread, naked, with Joel standing off to the side, eyes as ravenous and wild as you had ever seen them. At the same time, it looked like the man had just swallowed a cup of nails.
He leaned closer, and you did the same, crawling over.
âYeah? What is it, Daââ
âWe donât gotta do nothinâ you donât wanna do, OK?â Joel cut in over you. Cupping your cheek in one hand. âHell, we can stop this right now. Save yourâyour, uh, first time for somebody a little more suited to you inââ
Now it was your turn to interject, eyes rolling at him.
âIf you say âageâ one more goddamn time, JoelâŠâ
And it made you giggle, partly because you werenât often in the habit of cussing, but also because of the look that was suffusing Joelâs whole face as you said it: the guilt.
You could tell that it was still tearing him up, knowing how that wide, yawning chasm of decades wedged between you two wouldnât close no matter what he did. Fingers gripping the bedpost like a vise, eyes studying you by turns, and his underwear and pants all but bursting around the strain of his dick, he lookedâŠ
ââscared,â you finished presently. Tugging on his jeans. âIsnât it my job to be freaking out? This thingâs colossal.â
Youâd helped him strip completely nude, watching him kick off the fabric at his feet and climb into bed beside you, and there was a granule of truth to what you said.
What were you going to do with it? Would it even fit?
Then Joel was on top; fear dissolved into laughter.
âHey!â you hissed around short, gasping shrieks.
âThatâs a big word,â Joel mused, barely having to move a muscle against your writhing and squirming. ââColossal.ââ
âYouâve got a big dick.â
âBaby.â
âSorry. Penis, I mean.â
Above you, Joel had only to shake his head and scrunch his noseâwith his length hard and bobbing between your bodies, there was certainly no sense in denying it.
Still pinning you with his weight, he slid you both up the mattress. He nudged your head onto a pillow. Once comfortable, safe, and secure, and only then, did you feel him start to shift. You glanced between your legs.
His shaft was heavy. It stretched all the way from your pubic bone to your belly button and then well past it by an inch or three-and-a-half. Your presence was like a pebble beside a pillar; this walking, talking wall of fur and muscle couldnât be outstripped by anything, it seemed.
Joel stroked your cheek with his knuckles, at the same time watching moisture from that tip wet your tummy.
âYâknowâŠâ he trailed off, low. âYâknow how this goes?â
You did, sort of.
Your brain flashed back to the noises stifled behind cabin walls; Joelâs fingers plunging in and out of you; tongue dragging circles, telling you it was best to be wet and stretched, to make sure there was plenty of room for it.
Not a quarter-inch straight chisel, a finger, or a tongue.
Not even just the tip.
âAll of it goes in?â you asked him, gaze flickering up.
âAll of it.â
Joelâs hips canted once forward, then once going back.
Then again, in a sawing motion, as if to show you.
âDaddy goes inâŠâ Another undulation. ââŠanâ out.â
Over the course of all your time observing Joel, youâd come to realize that the man reverted to modes of teaching when he was worried; concealing his nerves became a game part-detachment, part-pragmatism.
You saw it now as he shifted his hips in demonstration, simulating sex with his length dragging back and forth across your belly. His brow knit, and he held your gaze.
ââFore he canâŠâfore he can move, or anything, Daddyâs gotta stretch your little hole out for him. Get her ready.â
âLike you did with your fingers?â you supplied helpfully.
Joel winced.
âWell, aâa little like that.â And he paused to consider his words. âExcept, uhâŠDaddyâs gonna stretch you a bit bigger. Tougher. When he goes in for the first time, he mightâŠwell, thereâs this stretch of skin he mightâŠrip.â
âRip?â You raised your head off of the pillow, voice taut.
Joel tried talking you down, both literally and figuratively.
âAinât that bad, I-I donât think. You might not even have it. Thereâs just this thing inside of some womenâa little tissue, I sâposeâcalled a hymen. Might break the first time you have sex, andâand with everything else⊠stretchinâ, yâknow, if it hurts, you just talk to me, OK?â
You nodded, âOK.â
Joel lined himself up.
He gripped his length and angled it. Shifted on his knees.
Swiped the head through your folds a couple of times and made you shiverâwas this supposed to be painful? You liked him there, and you tried relishing the feeling. Being wet, and sensitive, and spread with your legs wide open to Joel, you felt as vulnerable as youâd ever been.
You wanted to get the hurt over with.
âPut it in,â you urged, soft. âGo on.â
Joelâs lips twitched overhead. A light chuckle rumbled through him, and he continued the languorous strokes.
âAinât that simple,â he mumbled back. âIt ainâtâŠpolite.â
For what?
You were about to ask him as much, when Joel slid the flushed, leaking head of his dick from just grazing and bumping your slit to tapping directlyâpoking your clit. Smearing that pearlescent liquid from the little hole at the end to your throbbing bundle of nerves. You gasped.
Pleasure blossomed from that site. Joel tapped the head againâgentle, but insistentâand sparks ignited across your lower half. Your hips jerked, and you let out a whine.
âThatâs why, darlinâ,â Joel answered your wordless query. He smiled, sliding his dick back and forth between your thighs, over your trembling, glistening mound. âOnly polite to knock on the door before he comes inside.â
And if you werenât almost shaking in fear, you wouldnât have hesitated to roll your eyes. Told the old, beaming man with his length poised over your pussy he was corny and not funny at all, yâknow that? But instead, you just mirrored his grin, all crooked, soft, and indolent, and you leaned in to kiss him. You wrapped legs around his hips.
You trusted him.
Yet another confirmation of it came when Joel cradled the back of your head and kissed you deeper, sweetly, and then dragged his lips from your mouth to either one of your cheeks, your nose, your chin. Peppering kisses.
Trying to distract from what was forthcoming, maybe.
âJust look at me,â Joel murmured, drawing back and meeting your eyes. âLook at Daddy now, alright, baby?â
You did.
You nodded.
Joel pressed his hips forward, andâ
âFuck!â You swore under your breath.
It stung. No side-stepping the pain, the push of Joelâs length a mere quarter-inch inside stretched the rim of your pussy to what felt like maximum capacity. You dug your heels in his ass, and at the same time it felt like that thrust was going to halt where it was, you grit your teeth.
âKeep going. Please,â you begged him.
Joel groaned. His whole body shook.
âBaby, this pussyâs so fuckinâ tight.â
You mustâve felt like a fist to himâwhether that was a good thing or a bad thing was yet to be decided, as the manâs mouth fell open, and a string of curses flew out. His hips stuttered, like he couldnât bear the feeling, and then his hand lifted to stroke your cheek. His thumb trembled down the cusp of your jaw as his throat bobbed
âOhâŠoh, honey. Canât hurt ya, little one,â he said, choked
âYou wonât. I want it,â you murmured back.
As if to affirm that statement, your walls clenched around his tip and sucked him deeper. Maybe a half-inch.
Once sheathed almost past his throbbing, leaking head, Joel seemed to grow even more delirious. He opened and closed his mouth, gray stubble shining from the faint lamplight of his woodworking station across the room, and you thought heâd never looked sweeter. Or needier.
You snaked your arms around his neck just as you felt your body begin to leak more moisture down his length. One soft, minuscule squelch where Joelâs most intimate part and yours molded together, mixing juices, and you could almost taste him on your tongueâfeel him swelling bigger and harder pointing in toward your belly.
âRight here, Daddy,â you breathed, voice shrill from how badly you wanted him. âShowâShow me where it goes.â
You shouldâve known that tapping into Joelâs pedagogical side wouldâve stopped him on a dime.
And it did.
He blinked.
Eyes already clouded with lust and need, he swallowed.
âY-Yeah?â He leaned closer and blanketed your body.
You nodded at him sweetly, spreading your thighs.
âPlease, Daddy. Teach me how to be a big girl.â
Your words might as well have knocked him sideways. The man heaved the longest, lowest groan through his teeth, and muscles ticked on both sides of his mouth.
He liked that a lot.
Heâd give you exactly what you needed now.
And, in short order, that was what he didâlowering his head, capturing your lips, kissing you sweetly and savoring your taste, he relished you. Pleasured you. Braced his elbows on either side of your head on the pillow and sucked in a breath and then slid in, finally.
âOpen for Daddy,â he said, without pretense or pause.
No equivocation to his movements now, he drove deep. Your body followed as if by instinct, blooming around the intrusion and letting him in. It hurt; like you already knew, there was no sense in pretending as if it wouldnât sting, but Joel was there through every second of it. Caring for you, kissing you, sawing that big, slippery member of his in and telling you, gently, âThis is where Daddy belongs.â
âInâIn my tummy, Daddy. Can feel âim in my tummy.â
âYeah? Show me where.â
Joelâs hand moved under yours, swiftly guided to your stomach. His gaze shone with pride when you started drawing little circles over your belly button, all while his length was plunging in and out of your wet, needy hole.
You felt a bulge under the skin, and he felt it, too. Whatever hymen you had was probably split in half.
âSee Daddy there? All up in your guts?â
You did. You whimpered, âUh-huh.â
Then, somehow, the man sank even deeperâwhat once felt like it was teasing at your tummy touched your lungs.
Joel let out a strangled sound.
âFeelâFeel Daddy here?â
As soon as you answered yes, Joel rocked his hips forward to make sure he hit that spot again. It made stars fly before your eyes, not unlike the way youâd felt when he was knuckle-deep stroking your g-spot, but you could tell that this place was different, too. Your toes curled in anticipation, and your walls pulsed around him.
You liked it, not only for the feeling, but the meaning of it.
Something more significant lurked under the surface.
âYour cervix,â Joel said, voice thin and near hoarse.
Another stab of his pelvis, and your mind went dizzy with the pleasureâsilly as it was, it also scared you, so you hugged Joelâs neck and nodded your head, âCer-vix.â
âYou know whereâŠbabies come from, right, hon?â
That question stumped you for a second.
Slowly, you shook your head at him.
And, like the time not long ago when youâd told Joel you wanted to be a big girl, this admission seemed to leave a lasting impression, too. Above you, Joel continued to roll his hips in fast, shallow thrusts and stretch your pussy out with it, prodding at your cervix in every movement.
âWell, thisâthis is what I was gettinâ at, darlinâ.â
Another beat. Another thrust and a groan.
Joel had just managed to steel himself when he went on:
âThe birds and the bees, I mean. This isâŠit. This isâŠâ
Making love.
MakingâŠ
Joel didnât even need to finish his thought, but he reached down anyhow. Feeling for the soft, squishy globes attached to the base of himself, between his legs, he ghosted fingertips over them and stifled a grunt.
âIn here, âsâwhere a man stores semen. Thatâsââ
âThe stuff that makes babies, right, Daddy?â
The pieces fell into place without him having to say another thing. The jostling of your body underneath him, pussy taking him deep with every stroke, how Joel would grunt and groan and pant in keening desperation, âOh, sweetheart, thatâs just what Daddy likes. Keep goinâ,â it only surprised you how long it had taken for you to see it.
Instinct clouded your sense; you said it without thinking:
âWant it in me, Daddy.â
Joel choked.
Oh.
At the same moment, your walls reflexively clenched, and your fingers wound through the dark, sweat-dampened curls at the nape of his neck. Inhaling a whiff of his aftershave and his natural scent, you felt something stir within you. You couldnât name it.
You couldnât place that primal need or why you craved him in you, pulsing out however much of that seed his body could give. It was as simple and as insistent as breathing; your pussy enveloped his length from root to tip and gave it a squeeze like your walls were trying to milk him. Joelâs body responded in kind, and he groaned.
ââMâsorry, Daddy,â you squeaked. âI didnât mean to.â
âYou want Daddy to make a baby in your belly?â
Joelâs mouth was hovering less than an inch away from your own, and the look on his face was that of a man starved. His thrusts slowed. Hard, hot flesh twitched inside you and sank all the way in until you squirmed.
This gruff man, this tough man, this caretaker and wellspring of kindness and warmth. Protection since the day heâd entered your life. And now he was buried to the hilt, hips digging into yours, and he was smoothing a hand over your cheek. Seeming to be waging an internal war, he swallowed and held your hip with his other hand.
âDonâtâDonât answer that,â he rejoined, hoarse.
âPlease, Daddy. Please,â you whimpered back.
In an exploratory move, you reached to lick at his bottom lip. After that, his chin, down the plane of prickly silver stubble and then around his mouth, like you couldnât get enough of the man. It felt natural; you lifted your hips and raised your eyes to him at the same time, begging.
You didnât need to ask. Joel didnât need to speak again.
But after taking a look deep in your eyes and feeling you hug himâtug him in, both between your arms and your thighsâit became readily apparent his resolve was shot.
His hips drew back and rocked forward.
His tip nudged your special spot, and you both groaned.
No further teaching or talking was needed from that point forward; you and Joel seemed both to operate on instinct, with your bodies making all of the requisite decisions to keep moving. Joel slipped his arms under your body and held you tight, pressed himself as near as he could while he drilled you into the bed and pushed you closer and closer to your peak. His length swelled and throbbed, and the whole time through, he couldnât take his eyes off your face to watch what his movements were doing. Always âmy girl,â âmy darlinâ,â or âmy sweet, precious babyâ as his pubic bone bumped your clit and he cradled you to him. The bed creaked underneath the weight of each thrust, and before you knew it, your moans were increasing in pitch. Your body tightened.
Joelâs did the same, and with the tight, wet suction of your pussy all but cutting off the circulation to his dick, neither one of you had much say in what followed afterâropes of warmth coated your walls with every pulsation of his length, and euphoria seized you from head to toe.
How long it lasted, or how long Joel remained buried in your aching heat was anyoneâs guess. All you knew was that when you re-opened your eyes on recovering from your pleasure, Joel was watching you. Thick, sticky warmth stuffed you to the brim before starting to leak outâand, evidently, your old man loved that feeling, as he couldnât keep a grin from spreading across his face.
Cheeks glowing, eyes bright, and smile mirroring your own, it was clear he wasnât going anywhere this time. Joel held you closer, then pressed a kiss to your cheek.
La petite mort | Frankie Morales x f!reader | 4,4k
Summary: Meeting Frankie in a bar, you take him home for the night, and discover someone who is very patient with your needs.
CW: smut (oral f receiving, protected p in v, use of a sex toy, this is porn with very little plot), mention of cigarettes and alcohol, Frankie is a consent king, discussion of medication and side effects, mention of depression (slight description), Frankie is bi and that's that (in this house we ship FishBen), Frankie made me feel too many things as I wrote this fic and that deserves it's own warning.
Reader is abled body and almost no physical description, she has hair that can be tied up, and that's it, but if you notice anything please let me know.
A/N: Hey everyone, let me warn you before you read this, just in case. This is porn but with some realism. Sometimes, when you take medication, it affects your sex life resulting in sexual dysfunction: it lowers your desire, can result in anorgasmia (absent, delayed, infrequent or lacking intensity despite being aroused) etc... And that sometimes sucks. So, for once, I wanted to write a reader who experiences this but finds the perfect man to understand and help her. Yes this very self indulgent. Hope you enjoy it!
Edit: the title means « the little death » and itâs a metaphor for orgasm and more specifically to the post-orgasm sensation.
I'm always happy for comments and/or reblogs, so please don't be shy !
Main masterlist | Read on AO3
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
You met him in a bar, like you met most guys recently. Apps didn't really get you anywhere. Swiping, trying to hold a one-sided conversation, receiving barely written messages, like "WYD?" (What you doing?), while you tried to get to know them. Profile pictures of them holding fish, of them with friends at a party, but rarely good ones of them alone. Not that looks mattered the most, but damn, women took so much time to look pretty, choosing the right picture, coming up with the perfect bio, while guys barely took time to take a good picture or try to get to know you.
So bars it was, more often than not. That was your dating service. Even if it rarely lasted longer than the night. It was fine. Not that you didn't want more. But the spark never sparked. It felt more like scratching an itch. And since you slept on the first night, you were considered damaged goods. Not someone good enough to date. Just someone to pass the time with.
You could try harder, but what was the point, at your age, after everything? You didn't feel the energy, the will to look for more. Lately, life was⊠well, hard. Hard to get out of bed, hard to go to work, hard to see people. Life was just hard to live.
And sex was one of the only times you felt something: desired, sexy, a person. Even if it sometimes made you feel some shame, slightly disgusted in yourself, at least for a moment, you felt like more.
But this guy managed to spark your interest. He was handsome, nice, and he made you feel butterflies when he smiled at you. Everything in his looks made you tingle, from his broad shoulders, the curls of his brown hair under his hat, to that dimple when he smiled. He even made you laugh, something that happened less these days.
He talked to you, asked you questions about yourself, made you feel human, not because of your body, even if he seemed to like what he saw, but because of who you were.
When you asked him if he wanted to go back to your place, he looked deep into your eyes. You thought you saw a flash of disappointment, but it went away so quickly that you weren't sure. He paused, interrogation in his look, seeing if you meant it, before leading you to his car.
You must have imagined the disappointment, because the way he kissed you made you very well aware of the hunger he had for you. Pressed against the passenger side door, his heat radiated through his gray t-shirt stretched over his chest and shoulders, his mouth claiming yours, making you feel dizzy and weak in the knees. His hard length under the denim gave you a sense of the desire he had for you. When he pulled away, and you chased him with your mouth, he pressed his forehead to yours and asked you if you really wanted to take him home, eyes boring deep into you, like he wanted to hear your thoughts, like he almost could. The thoughtfulness of his words and actions made you falter a moment. Maybe you should take it slow, maybe take his number instead, maybe try something different. But you needed to feel something, anything, erase any other thoughts, so you pulled him in for another kiss, one to close those brown eyes, one so he wouldn't see your hesitation, one so he couldn't guess your thoughts, and see the emptiness you felt inside.
The drive was quick, and his hand never left your body. On your knee, on your leg, climbing up the inside of your thigh.
Now, on your couch, the touches and kisses are getting heated, the desire is pooling in your body, as his mouth slowly gravitates down your neck, with little bites that drive you crazy. He murmurs sweet nonsense, little praises, about how you make him feel, the effect you have on him. Your core is pulsing, your hands gripping him wherever you can, and your voice shakes when you plead, "Frankie, I need you, please." He lets out a growl, kissing his way down your body, pushing you gently down so you lie on the couch. His mouth is delicate and urgent at the same time, on your clavicle, between your breasts, on your still covered nipples, on your stomach.
"Let me taste you first, let me make you feel good with my mouth." His voice is strained, like it takes everything from him not to devour you right away. You want it, you want to feel him between your legs, but the thought of what might happen, what will inevitably be the outcome, makes you freeze, just for a moment, while your mind races to try to find an excuse. He feels it instantly.
"What is it?" His face levels with yours, eyes seeking yours.
You feel ashamed, but you try to brush it away, "Nothing, nothing." You start kissing him again, your hand going to his pants to unbuckle his belt. But he stops you, "What is it? Did I do something?" You can see the worry in his gaze, the way he tries to look into your soul.
It makes you feel vulnerable, seen, something you try to avoid, to hide from. But he won't let it go. Sitting back up, you pull yourself together, folding your legs up to your chest.
You can see he's keeping a respectful distance, trying to give you space and agency in the situation, and that he is afraid of crossing a line. You feel miserable, everything was going so well. The moment is gone, and the beautiful man standing in front of you is just going to leave now that what you have to offer seems off the table. Your own desire is slowly slipping away, leaving in its wake shame and distaste for yourself. You didn't expect him to offer to go down on you. They rarely do and never during a hook-up.
Your silence prompts him to ask you, "Do you want me to⊠go? Or stay? I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you or anythingâŠ"
Before he even finishes his sentence, you cut him off, "Can you hold me?" You barely have time to finish talking, that he is holding you in his arms, a hug that makes you feel safe. Gently caressing your shoulder and back, holding you tight, he whispers, "Can I kiss you?"
Even though you had been kissing merely seconds before, even if you were already in your bra and panties and he was just in his boxers, he still takes time to check everything. He makes you feel secure.
"Yes."
A few quiet moments, some light kisses on your temple, cheek, nose, and then mouth. It's tender, and you start relaxing. Pulling slightly away, he looks at you, asking, "What did I do wrong?"
He's so vulnerable, so respectful that you put your arms around his neck and kiss him with intent before answering.
"It's not you. It's me. And it's not even me. It's justâŠ" You sigh, stretching on the couch. He's looking at you expectantly. "You really want to know?" you ask him.
Frankie nods, still a little uneasy. You sigh again and start playing with a string on a cushion, avoiding his eyes.
"I'm taking antidepressants. I have been for a few months now, andâŠ" Your eyes go up, looking at him. His gaze doesn't falter, he just gives a slight nod of the head, and you continue.
"And I don't really have orgasms anymore."
There is a slight pause, he swallows, your eyes are drawn to his throat, to the freckles you see there and on his neck and shoulder. You can't help the small sigh as you wait for him to find an excuse to leave.
Instead, he just asks, "Never?"
"Well⊠almost never⊠but⊠never with anyone."
There is another silence, one where Frankie looks at you and then continues to ask you questions.
"And the guys before?"
"I just fake it⊠Orgasm isn't always an endgame. I mean, I take a lot of pleasure in sex, I just fake it after a while when I know it's not going to happen."
"But then why didn't you want me toâŠ"
"I've never had a guy want to go down on me in this kind of situation." You interrupt.
"You mean, a one-night stand?"
"Yes⊠I didn't think I could fake it. And I don't want you to feel forced orâŠ" You don't finish the sentence, still uneasy at the whole situation.
You see him relax somewhat. Now that he knows that he didn't cross a boundary, that he didn't hurt you, he closes the gap between you, eyes turning black again, making you hungry for his touch. The air shifts, and you can tell he's not going to leave. His hands go to your waist, and he starts kissing you deeply. His voice turns low and sultry.
"Let me be blunt. I love eating pussy, I get off on it. I can even come just from it. This is not something I would feel forced to do. I very much want to do that now, but only if you want to. I want to try to make you come with my mouth, make you feel good, even if it lasts hours. And we can stop whenever you want. Would you want that?"
The desire that had left you is back in a second. You can feel it in your cunt clenching around nothing, in your pulse quickening at his words, in the slick between your legs ruining your underwear. The hunger in his eyes makes you feel weak. You nod.
"I need your words. I want to make sure you want this."
"Yes," You wish your voice was stronger, but it's still a little meek.
"Then let's get you comfortable, show me your bedroom."
He never leaves your body, always touching you on the way to your bed, with his mouth and fingers. Both of you lying down, he starts kissing your body with reverence, taking off your bra and then your panties, licking, nipping everywhere. You're at a point where you could scream from heat and lust. You need him now, anywhere, anyway, you just want to feel him, your cunt feels heavy, almost painfully.
"You tell me whenever to stop." Frankie rasps, eyes looking up to you from between your legs. The sight makes you shiver.
He takes his time, kissing your hips, your thighs, and then slowly drags his tongue between your folds, uttering a sinful sound like you are the best meal he's ever had. His tongue then gives a few kitten licks on your clit, circling it before going back to your folds.
The sensation is bliss, you can tell he's enjoying this as much as you are, and he is trying to see what feels good for you. You watch him and his eyes look up, giving you a wink before circling your clit with his mouth and sucking, the action making you moan loudly and close your eyes, head rolling back. Your hands go to grab his arms that have you pinned to the mattress, his big hands gripping your thighs, holding them apart, and pulling your cunt closer to him. He lavishes you, all his previous restraint is gone as he hears you cry out from pleasure. Lapping and sucking, tongue fucking you, then swirling it back to your clit, alternating slow and fast motions, light and hard, making you see colors through your closed eyes. You feel it coming, the orgasm, something you didn't think possible, it's right there, you can almost reach it, if you hold out your hand, you could grab and bring it closer, but it recedes. Your voice falters, something like a whine comes out of you. Frankie pushes a finger inside you, slowly fucking you. Your pleasure starts climbing again as he adds a second one and starts curling them inside you, his mouth and tongue working in unison. It's almost there, almost on you, you screw your eyes shut in concentration, willing the orgasm to wash over you, but again it evades you. You feel like crying.
"Frankie, stop, stop." You tug on his hair, and he stops, raising his head and looking at you, eyes dazed in lust, but soon shifting to concern.
"You're all right?" He whispers. You try to catch your breath, your heart is beating fast, like you were running a race. One to reach climax, only you didn't run fast enough.
"Yes, it was⊠God! Frankie, you're good, very good, but I just⊠It's not working."
He comes up, kisses you. The taste of him mixed with your release is intoxicating. His kiss is messy and starved, making you dizzy, holding him close to you, feeling his hard cock on you. "That's OK. Let's take it slow." He finally murmurs.
"I think⊠let's just fuck." You're frustrated by your desire, you feel bad, the fact that he is so hard against you, and that he probably just needs to come, makes you want to do anything so that he doesn't leave you alone. And even though he has been sweet, you doubt he won't soon get tired of your shit, so he might as well fuck you and get it over with.
He looks at you, like he understands every thought that goes through your mind.
"No. Not like that."
"But⊠Aren't youâŠ"
"I'm fine, OK? We are not going to fuck just so I can come while you take no pleasure. We can stop here, I can stay, or leave, whatever you need." His tone is final. But it turns sinful when he adds, kissing your neck, "Or we can try something else."
"Something else?" You want anything he can offer, you don't want him to leave you.
"Earlier, you said you never orgasmed with someone. That means you can come while masturbating, right?" He nips your shoulder, making you gasp.
"Yeah."
"How? Fingers, toys?"
"Vibrator." Dazzed by the questions and what he is doing with his depraved mouth, you barely think of how unusual this conversation is with someone you met only a few hours ago. But it's easy, natural, with him. So you add, "On my clit."
Frankie hums, his lips circling one of your nipples, sucking before he lets go with a pop.
"What if I fucked you while using that vibrator on your clit? Would that work?" Instead of answering, you lean to your bedside table, pull out the vibrator, and condoms from the drawer.
Frankie grabs a condom, puts it on, and then lies down on his side next to you, turning you so that you have your back to him. Slowly continuing to unravel you, he touches, grabs, and pinches your body, sliding his cock between your legs, coating his tip in your release. Adjusting your leg, he slowly sinks inside you, both of you letting out a moan.
One of his arms goes under your body, hand splayed on your stomach, holding you pressed to him. The other hand is kneading your breast and pinching your nipple, as you cry out. He slowly starts to thrust, letting you feel him wholly, his mouth peppering kisses on your neck, right behind your ear, teeth grazing your earlobe, leaving you shaking in his arms.
Holding the vibrator, still off, you take time to enjoy the feel of him, the leisure drag of his cock inside of you, deep, until his hips snap hard, jerking you forward, his hands pressing you to him. He murmurs sweet words in your ear, how good you feel, how much he wants to be buried in you forever, how hot you are and how he couldn't take his eyes off you since he saw you in the bar, how he wants to do this again, how he wants to see you again, all these words that make you feel so much, feel things you can barely understand. He's working you until your pants and small gasps turn to moans, until you feel the pleasure rising and him getting worked up. His words are filthy now, asking you if you feel him, if you feel how hard you make him, how wet you are, the sound of him inside you proving his point. How good you take him, how much he wants to fuck you in every position, make you scream his name in pleasure, make you feel more than anyone ever has, how much he wants to eat you again, how good you taste.
His hands continue to work your body, gripping, kneading, as he kisses, licks, and bites. One hand is traveling between your legs, cupping your pussy. The heat of his body behind you is almost unbearable, the feeling of him inside and out of you. It's almost too much but also not enough. You feel limp in his arms, brain almost shut down as you take his thrusts that get deeper, faster, taking everything he gives you again and again and again.
His fingers circle your clit, making you sob until he pinches it. You cry out a sound so obscene and loud your neighbors probably hear it. You don't care, you're too into the moment. He appeals to all your senses, the feel of him inside, outside, your own hand gripping his arms, feeling the muscles of his strong forearms, the softness of his curls under your fingers, nails on his scalp, the sound of his deep, low voice when he talks and the growls he makes while grinding inside you, the sight of him between your legs, cock opening you up and fingers driving you insane. The smell of sweat, sex, and his cologne, the taste of beer and cigarettes when you kiss him, all of it exhilarating.
He was good with his tongue and mouth, and he is just as divine with the rest of his body.
You can feel it again, the rise of the orgasm, like a wave coming but leaving before it touches you, coming a little closer every time. Like a light you can barely reach, like a feeling close to explosion yet receding before the fireworks go off. You can't help but cry in frustration. You want him to have his own pleasure, to feel good, but it's borderline painful to be so close to your release and feel it escape you again. Before you get in your head, Frankie murmurs, "Turn it on, baby." With shaky hands, you turn on your vibrator. When it starts vibrating, he grabs it with one hand and puts it on your clit.
The pleasure spikes again, you can feel it, but it's not enough. The hand that was in his hair goes straight to the one holding the toy, giving it the pressure you want. Frankie is a fast learner and applies the exact amount of pressure you need and the exact friction you show him. Nails digging on his arms, you start climbing again, the peak so close, closer than it has ever been. You can feel it, it's finally here, the wave is touching you, the explosion is impending.
"Yes, Frankie here, like that! Don't stop, please, I think, I think⊠Fuck Frankie," the pleasure is so intense as it ripples through you, barely understanding what you are babbling, what he's saying. Until you shatter, a climax that seems to last forever, almost an out-of-body experience.
Senses coming back, you hear yourself whimper, and feel him behind you, losing his control, hips snapping fast, as he moans and groans in your ear. You quickly shove the vibrator away, grab his hair again, and talk him through it.
"Come for me, Frankie, come inside me, I want to feel you deep, baby. Let go for me."
His sounds are obscene in your ear, hips jerking, hands gripping you hard as he comes. The afterglow of the orgasm, coupled with the feel of him losing control, is the best you've felt in years.
You both lie for a few minutes, catching your breath, delicate touches on one another, while you shut off the vibrator with a trembling hand.
You feel relaxed, exhausted, and you want to stay in his arms forever, feeling the scruff of his beard and his mustache against your skin as he kisses you tenderly.
But you have to get up at some point, you untangle yourself slightly, and you feel Frankie's arms loosen. With a quick "I'll be right back," you slip into the adjoining bathroom to use the toilet. When you come out, it's to the sight of a very naked Frankie standing in the middle of your bedroom, looking for a trash can to throw away the tied-up used condom in his hand. You can't help but chuckle at the sight, endearing and also hot. He's confident with his nudity, but the sight of his tousled hair, the nail marks you can make out on his arms, and the hickey you gave him on his shoulder gives you a surge of electricity in your belly. You realize you don't want him to leave. You don't want him to be another one-night stand. You wonder if what he said about wanting to see you again is true. After the sex, after the time and energy he put into making you feel good, you wonder if he still wants it, what he said in the spur of the moment.
To test the waters, you ask, "Do you want to take a shower with me?" A huge smile illuminates his face, showing the dimple that made you take him home in the first place, and he follows you in the shower.
"Just don't wet my hair," you tell him as you tie it up in a high bun to avoid water on it.
You both spend a few wordless minutes washing each other. Hands discovering the other's body in another way, not heated but still with desire. And also curiosity and wonder, lightly touching marks and scars. Too soon to ask questions, but already an interrogation as to what the other one has lived before. His body tells more stories than yours, but he did mention serving in the army, so it fits with his previous occupation.
The intimacy of the moment is something you haven't felt in so long. Giving your body never felt like intimacy. Sex had been a means to feel lately, but even before that, it had always been something you never shied away from. But this, exposing yourself in this context, body and mind, the way you spoke before, makes you feel far more vulnerable. And yet he makes you feel safe and seen.
As he lightly rinses soap off your shoulder, pressing a light kiss after, your back to him, he breaks the silence.
"I also used to take antidepressants." He lets a silence settle, you don't move, so he continues 'They had an effect on my sex drive and also sometimes gave me erectile dysfunction." He speaks matter-of-factly. Not shying away. You understand it's a form of reciprocity, but he's also making you understand you aren't alone. It warms you, and you turn around to look him in the eyes as you ask, "Did it last long?"
"A while, yeah... I took medication for a couple of years. And when I started, I wasn't dating anyone anymore, so the first few times it happened wasn't with someone I really knew. It didn't feel good. And then I got in my head, and it was hard to tell if it was the medication or me sabotaging myself."
You swallow hard because that's exactly what you feel. The first few months, you knew it was because of the medication, but now it feels like you're expecting it to happen, so it does.
Frankie looks at you, like he's hearing your thoughts, "But eventually I found someone who helped me. Someone I trusted and was able to let go with." You want him to mean something else when he says this, like he could be the one you can trust, the one to help you if you want.
"How did she do it?" you ask him, instead of pursuing that thought.
You sense his hesitation, and like he's about to take a leap of faith, before he speaks again, "He⊠He was a friend, still is. We were in the army together, went through the same stuff, and I guess⊠knowing he understood, helped me." He is searching your face, gauging your reaction.
You know your eyes widened at first, but you do everything to show him it doesn't matter to you and that you are still here with him. So you put your hands on his waist, touching him and showing him instead, and ask, "Do you still see him like this?"
He smiles when you came closer, when you touch him, relief flooding through his features, and then he laughs at your question.
"No! No, I don't see Benny like this anymore. It was never more than friends with benefits, really. We needed to be with people we trusted. We are still very much friends and very open and clear on what has happened. And Benny is now happily married, and his wife knows everything." The way he explains it and the look he gives you, everything makes you feel like he's giving you these details so that you know he meant what he said earlier.
Smiling, you turn off the water and hand him a towel. Wordlessly, you give him a toothbrush, looking at him expectantly. He takes it with a smile, and while you both brush your teeth in silence, you can't help the grin on your face. No words are needed as you put on your pajamas and he puts on his boxers. Not a word when you slide under the covers and he joins you, holding you after you turn off the light.
In the dark, your back to him, his arm draped over you, you whisper "Are you free tomorrow morning?"
He pauses before answering and utters a yes, his breath tickling your neck.
"I know a very good breakfast place around the corner." You add and you can feel him smile on your shoulder as he kisses it.
"I would love to have breakfast with you tomorrow." He says before sleep overtakes you both.
Thank you for reading â€ïž
tagglist, also adding people who showed interest in the wip (please let me know if you want to be added/removed): @grogusmum @here-briefly @iknowisoundcrazyreads @javierpenaismyhusband @mani-pedro @lillaydee @littlemisspascal @harriedandharassed @sunnytuliptime @picketniffler @sawymredfox @cuteanimalmama @berryispunk @baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy @vindictivegranny @half-moon16
a/n: Clint is everything my ovulation riddled body needs. Thereâs really nothing else to explainâhope you enjoy this unhinged, caring, perfect specimen of a man. Shout out to @just-here-for-the-moment thanks for sharing in the madness đ ps. Not betaâd, all mistakes are mine!
Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, some dick taps on the kitty, body insecurities *period sex*, allusions to shitty exes, a tiny little bit of jealousy- Clint mentions past relationships, Clint being a little dommy, but very daddy, daddy kink *obvi*, reader is nondescript, only a small mention of hair being wet from shower, period piece - takes place in 1987, Clint being a hedonist, let me know if I missed any!
Pairing: Clint Flood x F!Reader
Ko-fi link đ„Čđ
word count: 3.6k
reblogs are appreciated
Masterlist series Masterlist
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He finds you in bed, despite having left you in the kitchen.Â
âSomeone looks cozy.â He smiles and you mirror the expression back to him despite your headache. You hum around a stretch, wincing through the general discomfort.Â
âWhatâs wrong baby?â His fingers make short work of his zipper, of the buttons on his shirtâa wave of relief crests when he pulls the covers back and slips into the bed with you. You scooch into his arms before the covers are back in place. He laughs low at the moan of relief you let out.Â
âI feel like shit.â You half groan, half whine into his neck. His palms skate under the loose shirt you wear, his shirt. The warmth of them on your lower back draws an involuntary sigh from somewhere in your belly, warm and humid against his throat.Â
âYou think you might be coming down with something? I can pick up some soup from the diner, have you taken anything?â
âI donât think so, I had a migraine when you left.â You clutch him tighter; crawling into his skin wouldnât be close enough. You mouth at his throat, tongue tasting the salt of him in the desperate desire to have him closer. He lets out a throaty laugh, and obliges your silent, yet exceedingly clear want.Â
âOh, am I the cure then?â He rolls you smoothly onto your back, âIs this all a ploy to have your way with me, baby?â The tip of your finger follows the silvery line of his scar, along his cheek, swipes at the plump of his lower lip. Just the warm weight of him makes you feel better.Â
âOh I doubt I would need any sort of ploy to have my way with you.â You smile, biting your lip at the look in his eye.Â
âYou arenât wrong, you could askââ He presses his lips to your neck, moving along the skin on display under the loose neck of his shirt, â-you could command, you could beg, you know I love it when you beg.â His tongue tastes the hollow of your throat. You hum around the feeling of it, savouring the low tone of his voice. When his hand slips under your shirt and finds your breast you sigh, then wince when he squeezes a bit too tight. His head perks up.Â
âDid I hurt you?âÂ
âNo no, just a little tender.â You hold his hand to your breast, reassuring him that you donât want it to end and he nods.Â
He lifts your shirt as best he can under the comforter. Even though youâve done all manner of things with him, even though heâs seen, touchedâtasted every inch of your body, your heart still flutters when he looks at you. With bated breath, with your lower lip trapped between your teeth you watch him dip to lick at the peak, watch him draw it into his mouth gently. He hums around it while you melt. The pleasure, the ache of it is so strong it makes you squirm under him.Â
âReally sensitive today.â He notes with a mischievous grin, dragging his teeth along the side of your breast with just the right amount of pressure. He leans to one side, his hand slipping down the slope of your belly, dipping under the band of your panties and laughs when he dips his fingers into the seam of you.Â
âMy poor baby, youâre so wet your panties are soakedââ You frown, youâre turned on, sure, but soaked? When he brings his hand back up to taste your arousal, as he always does because heâs a saint, your heart sinks.Â
âFuck!â You sit up fast enough that it hurts and what greets you is a nightmare. Your panties, the comforter, the sheets underneath you and most likely the mattressâhis fingers are stained bright red.
âHeyâhey itâs okayââ embarrassment floods your body and you ignore him as you practically sprint into the bathroom. Hot tears slip down your cheeks, shame burns clean through as you all but rip your panties down and toss them into the sink.Â
âBaby, this is nothing!â He calls out, moving around the bedroom but you cannot stop crying. You should have known, you scold yourself, scrubbing at the stain with scalding water. You cannot imagine what he must be thinking, how disgusted and disappointed he must be at the mess you made of the bed despite his gentle words on the other side of the door.Â
âBaby?â He still moves around, calling out and you can imagine him stripping the bed, tossing out the ruined sheets. The thought of him having to buy new ones makes you groan to yourself, youâll have to replace them, it's only fair.
âBaby there's peroxide under the sink, itâll help with the blood!â You hear him through the door, how he knows to use peroxide for blood stains is something you canât dwell on just now.Â
The stain comes out surprisingly well, with a proper run through the washer your panties should be good as new. The tears still stream as you toss them into the laundry basket he keeps in the bathroom, you can do a couple of loads while he works. The bedroom sounds quiet now, no footsteps, no quiet words. Heâs probably gone and for that youâre grateful. You can clean up, erase everything and try to fix things while heâs out. When you open the door, the bed is stripped, and thereâs a towel covering the stain.
You quickly grab a clean pair of panties, some old sweats, a new t-shirt and some warm socks but then he walks in and your heart falls. Every part of you wants to run back into the bathroom, lock the door, pray that he never looks at you with disgust.Â
âHeyâWait.â His hand grabs your arm, pulling you gently towards him.Â
âLet me shower, Iâm disgustingââ You try to keep your distance but he frowns, pulls you closer anyway.Â
âHey. You are not disgusting, nothing about you is disgusting. This is nothing.â He pulls you close but all you can think about is the fact that youâre not wearing a pad, that you arenât wearing underwear and you might leak onto the floor.Â
âI bled everywhere, I ruined the sheets, did you wash your hands?â Again you try to pull away but he holds you tighter.
âBaby, itâs nothing. Sheets are in the washer, and I sprayed the mattress with stain remover. This is normal, this is something your body does with or without me in the picture and I need you to know that I donât think itâs gross or disgusting or anything other than normal.âÂ
Your eyes clench tightly, your mind trying and failing to take in his words. âBut.. but I made a mess, itâs bloodâitâs grossââÂ
He tuts, squeezing you tighter.
âNo, no it isnât.â He presses a kiss to your forehead, âI donât want you crying over this, itâs nothing to be embarrassed or sad about. Just a little accident and Iâve already pulled out the darker sheets. I have some old towels too, we can lay them down before bed.âÂ
You groan into his chest. âWhy are you this sweet to me?âÂ
He laughs, pulling your face up to kiss you softly.Â
âSweet? You mean mature? You mean educated on what happens during a menstrual cycle?âÂ
âYes. Guys are usually grossed out, or insensitive.â You clench your thighs together, praying nothing will drip out.
âWell, Iâm a grown man and I genuinely like women so this is nothing but business as usual. Iâve also had other girlfriends and partners before you so this isnât my first rodeo.âÂ
âPlease donât talk about your other girlfriends.â You mumble into his neck and he laughs, goodnaturedly.Â
âPoint taken, so long as you donât talk about other shitheads youâve dated who didnât deserve you.â You nod into his chest. âWant me to shower with you?âÂ
Itâs tempting, but the thought of him seeing your blood swirling down the drain gives you pause.Â
âI could massage your back, rub your shouldersâŠI could make you comeââÂ
Your eyes shoot upâthis must be a dream. No guy youâve ever dated before was ever this practical about your period. The most you could hope for was that theyâd just ignore it until it was gone. And sex? That was always a no go, for you anyway. None of them ever turned down a period week blowjob.Â
âI know orgasms help, I could fuck you on the bed if you want, lay more towels down now and give it to you however you want it but I get the feeling youâd rather do it in the shower so you can wash it all away.â His thumb slides across your cheek and tears fall again, involuntary.Â
âOr not, sweetheart, I can just tuck you in on the couch, throw on a tape and get you some chocolate ice-cream. I just want to help make you feel better.â Itâs almost too much when he wipes the tears away.Â
âYou promise you arenât grossed out? You actually want toâŠdo stuff with me? The blood doesnât bother you?â You hate the pathetic, whiny tone of your voice. He frowns.
âListen, I always want to do stuff with you, a little blood won't stop me, definitely wonât gross me out. I need you to understand that your period doesnât bother me, in fact, can I be honest? I really enjoy it.â He smiles, hand slipping down to hold onto your ass.
âYou do?â You frown, squeezing your thighs tighter, you can feel the drip coming, âI donât want to make a messââ you pull away, stepping quickly into the bathroom. He follows you in.
âYes, I do.â He leans against the counter, smiling soft as you sit and wipe again.Â
âI can see why, this is definitely the height of sexy.â You scoff, half in agony at the cramping, half drowning in desire for him. You can almost feel it, that fucking amazing way he has of holding you down, of making you feel every single inch of his glorious dickâyou sigh.
âEverything about you is sexy to me.âÂ
You cannot help but smile. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, he looks good enough to fucking eat. His arms are crossed, highlighting the definition in his biceps. Your eyes rove over him, moving to his broad shoulders, to the long line of his neck.Â
âYouâre eating me alive with those eyes pretty baby, I could be balls fucking deep in you right now. I could be fucking you into that mattress as we speak.âÂ
You let out an involuntary moan, your cunt clenches and you can feel it, the filling stretch, that reassuring strength holding you where he wants you.Â
âYou like the thought of that hm? You want it so bad donât you Princess?â His arms uncross, one big hand slides down his belly, cups himself and you groan, heâs such a fucking tease. âJust say the word.â
âI do. I really do want it butââÂ
âNo buts.â He shakes his head, âfinish up and come to bed.â There is no room for argument, and so you donât even try. You sigh into the empty space he left behind, frowning at the whole situation.Â
On one hand, an orgasm or three would definitely help, but the thought of getting everything all messy with blood makes you squirm. The curiosity burns too brightly to deny him though, the thought of him not only being comfortable with period sex, but wanting it makes your blood sizzle in your veins.Â
Once finished with your business, you find him in the bedroom, straightening out some more towels to cover up a bigger patch on the bed. Fresh new sheets wait to be used on the dresser and heâs taken off his shirt.Â
âCome on over baby, come get comfortable.â He stands beside the bed, holds his hand out like a siren, an unavoidable pull you donât even try to fight.
âUp.â He murmurs against your temple, gripping the bottom of your shirt. You raise both arms above your head and he smiles, slipping his shirt up and off before you carefully get into place in the middle of the towel pad heâs laid down.Â
Heâs naked when he joins you, he kneels where your legs would usually be open. Itâs a little too real though, and so you have them closed, drawn up almost to your chest to make room for him. Thereâs something in his expression, an excitement you've only seen when youâre doing the filthiest things, when you have his cock in your mouth, or when heâs got you mewling under him.Â
Wordlessly he grips the top of your thighs, bringing your legs down and spreading them wide, his eyes zero in on your cunt and he licks his lips. It burns you up from the inside, a mix of hot shame and arousal, you can feel it collecting at the open mouth of your pussy, drooling out and you arenât sure if itâs arousal or blood. You cover your face. He tsks.Â
âWhy are you getting all shy on me? Weâve done everything there is to do, youâve swallowed my come, Iâve fucked you in every way I could think of and this makes you shy? A little bit of blood?â You groan into your arm, âlook at me princess.â
His head is tilted in almost mock confusion when you finally look at him.Â
âI thought you knew what I did, I thought you knew that blood means nothing to me.â He presses forward, adjusting himself so his cock is pressed against the lips of your sex, rubs himself against it. âSee? A little bit on my cock never hurt anyone, no one died.â He keeps rubbing himself in it, spreading it, coating himself. Itâs uncomfortable, itâs embarrassing, itâs the hottest thing any man has ever done.Â
His thumb joins the fray, spreads that mix of blood and slip up towards your clit. Itâs too good, and despite your mixed feelings, despite your lust and disgust, your hips cant up, chase the friction of his thumb.Â
âYouâre just a little girl arenât you? Just a little girl who needs her Daddy to hold her down and make her come.â He smiles, eyes sparkling in delight as you come under his hand. He waits until your eyes focus on him, and then he sticks his thumb into his mouth. He lets out a laugh at the way your mouth hangs open in shock.Â
âJust a little mess, nothing we canât handle.â He scoots a little closer, smiling in a way that makes you a little nervous, a little rabid.Â
âGive me your hand, I want you to spread it open for Daddy.â That warmth of shame, of pure hunger for him burns clean through you, makes you pant, makes you lick your lips. He brings your fingers down, positions them so youâre spreading your sex wider, so he can practically see inside you, the dark pink, now bloody red of your insides.Â
With a moan of his own, he grips the base of his cock and slaps the tip of himself against you. It sounds wet, it feels obscene.Â
âSuch a pretty little pussy, even all covered in blood. Prettiest little thing Iâve ever seen.â He smirks as the heavy weight of him comes down in quick succession until you squirm. Only then does he slip inside in one heavy thrust.Â
âWatch me pretty baby, watch me fuck this little cunt.â He groans out the words, holding your legs open, spread almost uncomfortably wide while his hips move. âFeel it, feel yourself spread around me.â You obey, because not obeying isnât an option. You crane your neck to watch, grimacing in both discomfort and pleasure at the way youâve marked him, his cock, his groin. He stops for a second, leaning forward to push a pillow under your neck.Â
âThatâs better, keep watching.â The caretaker in him is so embedded, so prevalent you almost swoon. His big hands move up, grip your waist so he can fuck you faster, harder.Â
You move your hand but he puts it back, guides it to rub your clit while he rocks himself inside. Nods in approval when you swirl your fingers in tune with his rhythm.Â
âThatâs it, keep doing that.â One hand still holds your waist, the other moves down, his thumb presses against the lip of your sex, spreads that mess up, helps to pull the hood back from your clit while you touch yourself. Itâs so filthy, so messy, so perverse. You come again, harder, longer than the first time.Â
âThatâs it Princess, come on this cock.â Heâs not out of breath, but you can hear the exertion in his voice. His thumb strums at your nipple, wet with blood and arousal.Â
âDaddy knows what this little cunt needs, and it needs my come doesnât it?â He speeds up, makes your breasts bounce, makes you whimper under his onslaught. âTell me you want my come, baby.âÂ
âI want itââ Your voice isnât your own, itâs higher, breathier. He shifts, and you gasp. âOh fuck right thereââ You practically beg.Â
âRight there? Whatâs gonna happen if I stay right there huh? Whatâs gonna happen if I keep hitting that spot?â His hair is in his face, his chest is flushed, his eyes are half lidded. He knows whatâll happen, he knows youâll come again and you want to tell him but you canât, you canât stop whimpering with every push of his cock. His thumb finds your clit again and it all shatters, you clench with a scream, a wet gush from somewhere deep inside.Â
âOh fuck yesââ He falls onto you, pistoning his hips harder, giving you no respite until you feel him groan into your ear, feel him empty him inside, the way he swells bigger with every spurt.Â
Your breath comes out in pants underneath him, your skin feels feverishly hot but the cramps are practically gone. He sighs, presses his lips to your neck, and then softly to your mouth, breathing deep through his nose.Â
âFeel a little better?â His hand comes up and wraps softly around your neck. You canât speak just yet, so you nod. âGood, come, let's shower.â You see his age when he gets up with a groan. The blood is everywhere now and you make a face. He tsks, guides you softly into the bathroom and turns the shower on.Â
He helps you rinse under the hot spray. Warm, callused hands lather up the soap and wash the blood from your breast, from where itâs spread up to your belly, gently slips between your thighs to clean the source. Your face presses against his neck when he slips those soapy hands down your back. A warmth that has nothing to do with the water fills you when he slides his fingers between your cheeks, when he rubs your pussy from the back, when he slides his fingers against your asshole.Â
âDo you want to come again?â He slides his fingers down, circles the rim of your opening, further still until he rubs your sensitive clit. âOr is it too much?â
âToo much.â You breathe into his ear, he presses his lips to your forehead with a nod.Â
Once heâs cleaned himself off, he urges you to finish up, and leaves you in the shower. Itâs nice to stand under the spray, to feel the heat of the water and the distinct lack of pain. You smile to yourself as you wash your hair; how silly to be embarrassed of a little blood given what he did for a living. How silly to doubt his words, or think that he might be cruel to you when heâs been nothing but loving.Â
Heâs waiting for you with a towel when you shut the water off, dressed and smiling. He envelops you in it, dries your back, and your arms, crouches down to dry your legs and feet.Â
âYouâre spoiling me.â You smile, placing your hands on his shoulders for balance.Â
âYes I am. And Iâll continue to do so.â He presses a kiss to your womb, to your inner thigh when he lifts your leg.Â
He dries your belly, your breasts, rubs the towel over your head like one would a little kid. You laugh, he kisses your nose.Â
The whole outfit you'd grabbed is laid out. The clean pair of panties, sweats, the shirt and the warm socks. A pad too, on the bathroom counter. He gently swats your hand away when you reach for it. Instead he takes your panties and slips them up your legs, reaches for the pad, peels away the backing and sticks it exactly where it needs to go. He presses his lips to your belly again when he slides them up your hips.Â
Hormones rage, and the tenderness, the care he takes makes you want to cry. He slides the sweats on next, puts the socks on your feet.Â
âUp.â You obey again, lifting your arms so he can put your shirt on. You bury your face into his neck once youâre dressed, needy for his love, for the care he gives so freely. A satisfied sigh leaves your mouth when he wraps his arms around you, holding you just as tightly as you need him to.Â
âI want you to curl up in bed and get cozy, and Iâll go grab us some food.â The soothing circuit of his palm at your back lulls you, makes you pliant, a drip of a girl within his grip.Â
âCan you get me some icecream?â Your fingers curl into the base of his neck, threading through the damp curls there.Â
âOf course pretty baby, Iâll get you whatever you want. Now go on, get in bed.â A soft kiss, and a light tap on your ass sends you on your way, smile firmly in place.Â
a/n: I missed him so much, so I had to write about him. Please send in your thots and feelings about them, I love hearing what you guys think- it feeds me lol. Hope you enjoy. xoxo (not beta'd, barely proofread, all typos and mistakes are my own)
Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, body insecurities, oral sex (f-receiving, waking up to the good stuff), allusions to the big fight, daddy kink, period piece - takes place in 1987, Clint being super supportive about your crush on Rob Lowe, let me know if I missed any!
Pairing: Clint Flood x F!Reader
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word count: 3.9k
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Itâs so quiet, so comfortable itâs easy to ignore everything thatâs transpired, easy to pretend as you brush your teeth in front of the new mirror. The big, reassuring shape of him moves in your periphery, draws your eye to his own comfort within this new dynamic.
Despite what you know heâs capable of, he feels like a walking zen garden, a beacon of calm and security that you tap into shamelessly. He catches your reflection in the mirror and winks, your stomach fills with butterflies.Â
It shouldnât feel so natural already, but maybe itâs another nail in the coffin, a period at the end of the sentence in that house that you now realize with brutal clarity, never really felt like home.Â
The covers on his bed are softer, his arms pulling you into his chest are warm and strong, and the smell of his skin fills you with love and terror alike. Love, because you feel wanted, and terror at the thought of losing this now that youâve finally tasted it.Â
-
A gentle tug, a slow pulling brings you into the morning and out of the already forgotten dream. A sigh, a yawn, and then a slow drip of realization. Your panties are being slid down and off, big hands grab and spread your thighs, a low hum of obvious appreciation fills the air. Itâs so early that the light filtering in is still mostly blue.
You hum back, smile at the expression on Clintâs face as he settles, gets comfortable, bites his lip at whatâs on display. The shyness, that deep-rooted insecurity that goes hand in hand with a life of neglect is still bigger than the desire for him, it makes your legs tense and stiffen, itch to close. His lips are soft though, and his hands firm; his grip is unavoidable, undeniable.Â
âI missed you pretty baby, I missed you so much.â Itâs a smoky, throaty moan and they loosen up your joints as well as your hold onto sanity.Â
âThis is all I thought aboutââ He adjusts himself, shifts up higher so he can lean onto one elbow. One thigh rests on his shoulder, that tensed arm curling underneath it to grip tightly, a crisp white bandage against your skin. The other hand spreads you open like a book, thumb slipping down to where your slick trickles out. He dips into it, spreads it like a balm, stares open-mouthed at the cunt that blooms and gapes for him and him alone.Â
You gasp when he pulls the hood back from your clit, when he dips and licks at it, moaning in harmony with you like heâs been craving it all his life. The lick turns into a steady taste, and then a full suck, his lips suctioned around the whole of it, tongue stroking, hands gripping. Itâs so much, so fast, so intense you canât even watch him. Your head falls back, your arm drapes over your eyes but it only makes you focus on the feeling even more.Â
Thick fingers circle the sensitive ring of your opening, a voice-stealing circuit, divining water, beckoning, torturing, until they slip inside and crack your voice with the fullness of them. He moans as he tastes you, unashamed and perfect while his tongue keeps its rhythm.Â
Itâs a slow-motion crash, muscles twitching in your thighs and in your belly, a full body clench like a human sized bow-string.Â
All of the apprehension about him being that close, about him seeing so much of you so clearly in the morning light has shifted into a need to be closer, you need more, just a little more. With a blind grasp your fingers thread through his soft waves and grip, your hips cant up into his mouth, capitalizing on that lick, chasing that delicious, wet stroke. He lets out a breathy laugh against you, pulling back for a moment to press a kiss to your mound.Â
âThatâs it, Princess, show Daddy how you like it.â Another wide lick from where his fingers pet at your inner wall up to your clit. âCome on Daddy's tongue.â He dives back in, hungry and determined and you cannot hold in the sounds youâre making. Eyes still closed, your other hand moves down and now youâre holding his head to your cunt, pressing him closer, begging for him to move faster, to push his fingers in deeper.Â
The sounds are only fuel for the fire burning in your veins, wet fingers plunging, harsh pants against your skin, incoherent moans and whimpers cresting, swelling until the damn breaks and your nerves explode. A supernova, hot and violent, a new star forming named in honour of him.Â
His fingers keep petting, stretching the pleasure out until youâre a raw nerve. Your hands push against him but he takes his time, softens the suction, licks just to taste, and not to pull you apart.Â
âJesus Christââ You laugh, giddy and utterly boneless all at once.Â
âGood?â He smiles, crawling up towards your mouth, gorgeous and masculine, intimidating in his appeal. That little sliver of shyness creeps back in, only now itâs from sheer attraction to him.Â
âToo good.â Your hands pull him in, wrap around him tighter than you maybe should but the need to be surrounded and cared for by him, for love and affection is too much to measure your grip.Â
âToo good? No such thing.â His lips press to yours, he hums into the kiss, licks the inside of your mouth the same way he licked between your legs and you can taste it. Your grip tightens and so does his, bare hand slipping from the sensitive skin of your belly, around your side and then low to squeeze the meat of your ass. Your leg wraps around him and a fresh thrill makes your stomach jump at the hardness of him pressed against you.Â
âThat for me?â You bite his lip, slip your palm down to feel the heft of him in those barely there pyjama bottoms he wears. Something inside you swoons, that primitive part of your brain that was activated at puberty, that grown-up thrill of touching this part of a man, of knowing heâs this hard just for you.Â
âAll yours pretty baby, you want it?â He grinds into your palm and the smile hurts your cheeks so bad you can only nod.Â
âHow do you want me to give it to you?â His lips brush against your neck, pulling sighs as well as more liquid arousal. Different positions flood your mind. You could just pull him out, get fucked on your back, or you could turn around and have him give it to you from behind.Â
âHow about you ride me?â He speaks before you decide, and he sounds excited, sounds eager and despite the momentary hesitation, you agree. He moves fast, pulling his shirt and pants off in record time while you both move into position. The sight of him, hard, cock resting up towards his belly makes your mouth water.Â
With as much grace as you can muster, you position yourself over him, guide him inside and lower yourself until youâre fully seated.Â
He lets out a filthy moan, while you breathe through the filling stretch.Â
âI wanna see all of you.â He leans up, pulls your shirt up and off and the apprehension comes back full force. His eyes are glazed in what can only be described as lust and desire but all you can focus on is the angle heâs seeing you at. The way your body folds, the way your skin bunches. His hands slide up your thighs, the white of the bandage such a contrast to his skin.Â
It comes to a head when he touches your hips, when they slide up and hold onto your sides.Â
You take a deep breath, focus on the feel of him, still very hard, still tense with the same want you feel. You rock onto him and he groans, eyes darting from your eyes to your tits, down to where youâre spread around him. Maybe if you make him come quickly, you can lay back down and put your shirt back on. So you bounce. Once, then twice, then in a steady rhythm, moaning every time you land.Â
He frowns and you think he might be close, so you speed up, moan louder, try your best to fake it like youâre one of those pornstars youâve seen in the movies at the store. The girl that looks like you comes to mind, you try to channel her bubbly, confident expressions.Â
âBabyââ His hand tightens and you think youâve got him.Â
âYeah Daddy?â You bite your lip, make it good but he sits up quickly, shocking you with his speed and strength despite knowing heâs fast, that heâs strong.
âWait, slow down.â He hugs you tightly, stops you from bouncing. You frown.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â Doubts swirl, that fear swells like a balloon in your chest.Â
âYou tell me.â He kisses your shoulder, rubs at your back. âSomething feels off, are you okay?â His hand cups your cheek, his thumb rubs at your lower lip and you feel almost too seen.Â
âNo, I donât knowââ You frown, let out a breath, bury your face into his neck.Â
âOkay, let's take a breath. Does it not feel good like this? Am I too deep?âÂ
âNo, it feels great Iâm justâŠâ you sigh, curiously defeated, âI donât know Iâm just in my head.â You go to move but he holds you to him, presses his mouth to yours soft and slow.Â
âLetâs start again.â He kisses you again, slower before laying back down. âI want you to do something for me, I want you to close your eyes.â A soothing sweep of his hands up and down your thighs lulls you in compliance, despite the request. You oblige.
âThere we go, keep them closed. Take a deep breath with me, inââ you feel him underneath you, filling his lungs and you do the same.Â
âGood, let it all out. I want you to focus on what you feel, me underneath you, inside you, my hands on you.â A light squeeze of your thighs highlights his point.
âI want you to use me to make yourself feel good.â He doesnât move, only speaks in that low, calm voice. You open your eyes but he shakes his head. âClose them.âÂ
You sigh, bite your lip and obey.Â
Tentatively, you rock onto him, focus on the fullness, on the way your body makes space for him. With a little extra push forward, the pressure at your clit is perfect. You capitalize on that by leaning forward, palms pressing against his chest to hold yourself at just the right angle. His heart races under your palm. An unflattering image of yourself fills your mind but he groans in obvious enjoyment, grips your hips and helps you move and the thought melts along with your cunt.
It feels so much more intense with your eyes closed, the small hairs all over your body stand on end, all of you one big, exposed nerve. Your breath speeds up, your cunt leaks onto him, makes everything so wet, so slippery. Instincts take over, and where you know heâd usually talk you through things, where heâd open that filthy mouth and make your blood sizzle, he stays quiet. Part of you likes this gentle guidance, itâs another facet of that caretaker urge in him that makes you swoon.
The pressure works its magic and you speed up, grind harder, chase that delicious friction. A filthy moan escapes when his thumbs find your nipples.Â
âKeep doing thatââ Itâs a desperate plea when his hands move away but he obeys, holds the weight of your breasts and strums while you whimper, they move away again and you want to yell at him youâre so close, but instantly theyâre back, and wet and you know he dipped his thumbs into his mouth. The wet smear against the peaks push you over the edge, make you scream and tighten around him.Â
He shifts up as you come, wraps his arms around you tight enough to make you gulp in breaths. You can feel him twitching inside you, the warmth of his come painting your insides while you both clutch onto one another.Â
His face is flushed when you finally open your eyes. A sleepy smile, an oversaturation of affection, soft, loving kisses finish off the best wake up call youâve ever gotten.Â
You both fall back into bed, you fall back into his arms and the lull of his warmth, his gentle, soothing caress helps you slip back into sleep.Â
-
That little space between dreams and full wakefulness loses its grip. Brighter light than before pours in through the massive windows behind the bed, a perfect natural alarm clock. You can almost see the way heâd worked it out when deciding where to put the bed, a small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth until the mental cogs start to turn smoother and his absence glares.
Your old room never felt like this, the memory of your not so subtle exit from the house youâd lived in practically your whole life replays in high definition at the thought. It repeats in your mind like a tape being rewound and replayed, so completely ordinary compared to the fallout.Â
The time on his bedside clock tells you itâs almost time to go to work, a sigh, part frustrated, part utterly defeated fills the air.
The smell of coffee perfumes the short hallway between the bedroom and the sun drenched kitchen. Itâs bright there too, his outline blocks some of the light coming in through the massive window lining the far wall. The toaster pops up, pulling his attention away from the plants he has lined up on a little bench set up to catch the most sun.Â
Heâs shirtless, those well-worn pyjama pants sit low on his hips but itâs all secondary to the way the smile lights up his whole face upon finding you standing there. His soft t-shirt touches your thighs, you cannot even imagine how disheveled you must look, youâd never guess it with the way he takes you in.
âGood morning, again, how did you sleep?â Your eyes travel the expanse of him, just as he does to you. Your feet carry you to him, his skin and yours are magnets, your cheek aches to feel the thump of his heartbeat under it. You oblige it.
âSo good, your bed is really comfortable, much more than mine. Well, my old one.â The words are a breathy thing spoken into his chest when you finally reach him. Strong arms wrap around you, big palms stroke softly under the hem of his own shirt, skating from the small of your back up to your shoulder blades. Soft lips press against your temple, the clean, masculine scent of his body wash fills your nose, putting back together something inside you that had cracked into pieces.Â
âHmm, thatâs good, itâs yours now too. Hungry? I made some toast and coffee. Weâre going to have to get groceries at some point today. The fridge isnât as stocked as it should be.â He holds you tight, the warmth of his skin at odds with the cold linoleum under your feet.
âI would love some coffee, please and thank you.â You press your own kisses to his neck, to that little spot just under his ear that makes him groan, to his Adamâs apple, his chin. You could cry from how much you missed this, missed him.
âSo polite.â He pulls your chin up with the tips of his fingers and then his mouth is on yours, soft, careful, loving. He lingers, kissing just because, never pushing it further, never deepening it, without the promise of anything but the gentle coming together of your mouths until he pulls away, and presses one onto the tip of your nose.
The coffee is strong, and he drinks it black but doesnât give you grief over the spoonfuls of sugar you stir into your own. The soft expression on his face softens another calcified spot in your soul, youâre almost certain youâve never seen him look at anyone with such tenderness.Â
âWhat?â You ask him, a little shy despite his openness.Â
âWhat?â He smiles back.Â
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â Your fingers pick at the placemat on his table, your nail worrying at it.Â
âIâm just happy.â He shrugs, eyes taking in the state of you, your thighs under his shirt, the peek of your underwear.
âAre you?â Everything thatâs happened between you sits at the forefront. The wrapping on his hand glares, all the vitriol your dad threw at you, the crushing silence and in contrast, the slow trickle of his come pooling in your panties. You donât want to dwell on any of it but itâs there all the same.Â
âYes. I am. Iâm happy youâre here with me and that weâre better. Especially happy that I donât have to deal with your shit-head dad just to be close to you.â he reaches over and takes your hand in his, holding your gaze, staring into the depths of your soul.Â
âLetâs get dressed, get you to work. Iâll be there when you finish and we can pick up the rest of your things.â You nod.Â
-
Your shift goes by in a blur. Thereâs a definite difference in how your coworkers speak to you, soft and sensitive. You roll your eyes at the thought of them all gossiping behind your back. You ignore it and get on with the day.Â
Itâs more helpful than you thought itâd be, the mindless, repetitive tasks, the brainless slog of the day.Â
As the clock ticks by, a tiny bit of doubt creeps in, a fear that Clint might not be there when you clock out burrows deeper. Itâs a splinter in your mind and it grows, terror that you might have to go crawling back to your dad, it makes your hands shake. It all evaporates when you see his car a good twenty minutes before your shift is up. The smile hurts your cheeks as you rush to grab your things, call out a half-hearted goodbye to everyone and no one.Â
âHi Princess.â He smiles, pulling you in for a kiss.Â
âHi.â Your fingers scratch at the scruff on his face, kissing his cheek before sitting back.Â
âBrought you a little something.â He pulls another pastry from his pocket, the smile grows even bigger.Â
âThanks babe.â He bites his lip, looking at you from top to bottom as though heâs never seen you before. It makes you heat up from the inside.Â
âOkay, let's go get some groceries.â He puts the car in gear and drives.
-
People look at you differently, when they meet your eye at all. Before him, you had that anonymous net everyone has, the optionâfor the most partâto keep your head down and get where you need to go. Now, with his big hand engulfing yours, with your hand holding onto his bicep there is a distinct avoidance from most people. The very select few who know him well enough to speak to him in passing make it a point to not make eye-contact with you. Youâre not really sure how to feel about it.
He guides you firmly, confidently through the grocery store. He asks what you like, what you want and ignores protests when you try to reassure him you donât need anything. He picks up coffee beans, and the sweet creamer you usually keep in your fridge at homeâwell, your dads home. He fills the cart with more food than youâve ever been able to afford in a single trip. Gently swats your hand away from your purse when you try to give him something to help.Â
âDonât ever try that again,â itâs a grumpy, exceedingly sweet huff against your temple as the teenage cashier does her thing.
âClint, I work, I should helpââ He shakes his head no, eyebrows pulled together in annoyance.Â
âNo. I got this.â You sigh, but swoon all the same, biting your lip as he loads the full bags back into the cart. The teen is unphased by your conversation, she takes his cash, and hands him his change with a bored, uninterested expression on her face.Â
He doesnât let you load things in the trunk either, just guides you to the front seat, opens the door and presses a kiss to your forehead before you sit. Your eyes track his movements in the mirror, the effortless way he loads everything in way less time it would take you, the way he walks the shopping cart back to its place. Hearts swirl around your head as he slides into the front seat and instantly takes your hand in his.Â
Itâs a short trip back to what is now your home, and a combined effort to put the food away. Louis winds through your feet, chirping happily as you fill his bowl with fresh food.Â
âWe should pick up the rest of your things.â His voice is low, a softened blow. Despite the careful tone it still feels like a shot to the gut. âI know baby, best to get it out of the way, tomorrow we can grab a dresser and some shelves.â He presses a kiss to your cheek and you nod, agreeing because you know heâs right.
âLetâs get it over with.â Itâs a tired, defeated sigh. âSee you later Louis.â Big green eyes blink slowly, a feline blessing.
-
The house is blessedly empty, and luckily your key still works.Â
âPut me to work baby, what do we need to grab?â He follows you up the dingy stairs, lugging boxes and supplies.Â
âI have clothes left in my closet, and then I have my books and tapes. I donât think thereâs much more than that, Iâm not taking anything that he bought.â Your room is in the same state you left it in. Thereâs a bone deep melancholy that courses through you at the sight of it, your bed made up, missing your favourite pillow and your teddybear. The posters from your teenage years donât inspire any sort of nostalgia, more of a depressing attempt to bring joy into a joyless house.Â
âDo you want me to take them down?â He follows your line of sight, old movies and heartthrobs, pictures of your friends, of you as a baby. You smile, grateful.Â
âIâll just take the pictures, I wonât put up posters of Rob Lowe in your apartment.â You hug his side.Â
âOur apartment.â He presses his lips to your temple. Warmth that has nothing to do with that ever present lust for him, spreads through your limbs.
âI donât need anything from here except the essentials.â You sigh, and pull away to get it over with.Â
By the time you load the last few things into the backseat of his car, night has well and truly fallen. The wind whips around your form as you lock your door for the last time. Tossing your key into the mail slot is just the spiritual exorcism you needed.Â
âReady?â He watches you survey the house that was your home since before you can remember for the last time.Â
Pairing: Frankie âCatfishâ Morales x Fem!Reader
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Chapter Summary: Just suffering.
Word Count: 4K
Rating: Mature
Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex and assault. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.
A/N: I'm not even gonna say anything, there's nothing I haven't said before about why this is so past due. I got nothing to say lmao. I think it sucks but you've waited long enough xo.
Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers
Despite your determination not to, you fell asleep quickly and deeply that first night. You hadnât wanted to, you had no idea if you would be safe, if someone would attempt to touch or harm you while you were asleep, but that didnât change the fact that your body and mind had been through so much it simply couldnât be awake anymore. You donât even remember falling asleep. The only thing you do remember is hearing the sounds of Angelâs boots padding around the room as you drifted away.
When you awoke, Angel was gone. In his place was an old plump woman who was kicking your mattress to wake you. You blinked at her confused before she thrust a plate of runny eggs and slightly burnt puffy tortillas at you.Â
You wrinkled your nose and pulled your face away from her, then quickly realized she also had a rusty cup of water. You shot your hands out so fast you forgot you were tied to the radiator and were rewarded with a sharp friction burn on your skin as punishment. Humiliated, you looked back down at the grimy cement floor, willing yourself not to have to ask for it. But you were so dehydrated you felt you might vomit, so you ate your pride, met the old womanâs eyes, and slowly lifted your hands up towards her in a posture to receive the cup. The old woman did not react at all other than to slide the cup into your awaiting hands, toss the food tray on your mattress, then turn and leave with a disdainful sniff. You couldnât even wait until she left the room before youâd chugged the entire cup of water.Â
Even though it wasnât enough, you were able to slip back into sleep.
When you woke up again, Angel was back, lounging on the couch smoking a cigar and watching TV. No one spoke to you. The old woman came back midday and evening with similar offerings. You continued to ignore the food and inhale the water.Â
This remained your routine for the next two days. You were mostly ignored and it threw you off, like they were in no rush to get their money and were perfectly content just letting you waste away here. You wondered what they were waiting for, tried not to think about how no one had noticed you were gone yet. Or they had, and they didnât care.
You spent every waking moment pulling your wrists apart to stretch out the rope, but it felt like you were getting nowhere. Your wrist bones were sore and you had raw, sticky marks across your skin from the friction of the rope. It was impossible to keep clean and you worried about infection, but you couldnât bring attention to it. You kept the ropes directly on top of the rashes whenever anyone was around and it itched and burned so bad sometimes you could almost cry.Â
You did everything you had to to keep in Angelâs good graces. Heâd meant what he said the first day, he would keep you reasonably safe (if you could call it that) as he could, and it soon became clear to you that he held some kind of rank, as everyone deferred to him and the man with the sideburns in a way that denoted both respect and fear. But it was only time before you;d gotten caught.
You had accidentally pulled against the radiator too hard and it loosened from the wall with a loud clang. Angel left the room while you stared at his back in panic, having no idea if he would return and shoot you point blank in the head like he did that other girl.Â
He returned only five minutes later, stalking into the room calm and collected with a hint of amused annoyance on his face followed closely by Sideburns guy with a contrasting silent and unreadable expression. You leaned into what it looked like, protectively hiding the small gap in your bindings so it looked like you were simply trying to pull the radiator out of the wall for your escape. You couldnât let them know your actual goal.
Angelâs creepy smirk could be unnerving enough but with Sideburns guy it felt like you were standing naked being stared at by a bunch of lawless men who hadnât seen a woman in years, and it felt worse when Sideburns guy simply laughed at you like you were an idiot girl.Â
Angel promptly punched you in the face as hard as possible, your nose split upon impact and blood immediately gushed out and down to your lips. It had knocked you off your ass backwards and youâd fallen on your side, face to the dirty pavement. Sideburns had pulled you back up to him by the hair and threw you to Angel, letting him grope you during the time it took him to re-secure the radiator to the wall with a screwdriver.Â
So yea, you much prefer to be ignored.Â
Yet despite that, you knew that you were safest when Angel was around, and that small sense of safety in an otherwise extremely safe situation did make everything extremely emotionally confusing.
You were so scared and so lonely that you talked with him. Heâd joke with you, questioning you like someone would on a date (even if you shared nothing). At first it made you sick when he actually said something funny and you giggled before you could stop yourself. It was easy to form a bond. To feel protection from him. You had to. It was survival.
You werenât delusional. You knew he was dangerous, but you also knew deep in the most unemotional and logical part of your brain, you were safest with him in the same fucking room as you. The others feared him; you saw it, you felt it. And you felt more scared when he wasnât in your eyesight.Â
But you never lowered your guard completely. He would often just leeringly stare at you. Heâd ask you invasive sexual questions, usually regarding Frankie and the guys. He wanted to know if youâd fucked them all. If theyâd gang fucked you. You could tell the thought aroused him. Heâd adjust himself in your view. One time heâd put on a porno and watched you try to ignore it while adjusting and groping himself with that shit eating grin on his face. When you continued to try to ignore him he put his cigarette out on your arm.
Once he got up and pulled you up by your hair and forced you into wild, wet, bruising kisses. His tongue was sharp and tasted like copper and cigarettes. Heâd slapped you when you pulled away. Another time heâd grabbed one of your breasts and hissed in your ear how eager he was to fuck you.Â
That fourth night, you cry yourself to sleep. You had been so scared of so many things when you first came here, but you had come to realize that the scariest thing was the waiting. The unknowing. How long would they keep you chained here? How long before you were finally raped? Why were they waiting so long? What was happening????Â
And the guysâŠdid they even know? Did they notice? Did theyâŠeven care? Or maybe they knew it was pointless, it was futile, there was no way to extricate you safely and they knew they were outnumbered so they justâŠ.werenât coming. So soon they would kill you.Â
Maybe the money was just more important.
You couldnât help but let out a whimpering sob, and as you raise your head slightly to gasp for hair you feel the warmth of Angelâs hand stroking your head, softly petting the damp tear soaked errant hairs back alongside your temples.Â
âBebita, do not cryâ He coos and hushes you, you squeeze your eyes shut to block him out and continue to weep. You were unsure how long, but when you came back to yourself, you could feel the warmth of his thigh pressed against the top of your head, your fingers gripping his jeans like a lifeline as your face hid in the crook of your arm. And he was still petting your hair, hushing you, whispering to you. You hated it.
âWhy are you keeping me here?â Your voice was crackled with disuse but you just had to know. The waiting was torture. You pull your head out of your arm and look up at Angel. He looks soft and concerned, and it disgusts you.Â
âFor your protection.â
You shake your head minutely. âNo. I meanâŠwhy has no one come? Have you not contacted them? Or are theyâŠnot coming?â
âWe have not contacted them yet.â
You sit up abruptly. âWhat do you mean? Why not?â
Angel stares at you unblinking with his deep, tilted dark eyes. âBecause it is easier to trick a dog that is rabid with anger, than a dog that is rational. Do you agree?â
It was so calculated. So thought out. LikeâŠlike theyâd been planning this for a while.Â
Then it hit you. Something about the way his head was tilted, the smirk on his face, the way his small onyx eyes seemed to stare into you. An almost uncontrollable amount of nausea overwhelms you and you suddenly remember, the memories snapping back to you so hard you feel like you were punched in the gut.
You had seen Angel before. And the Sideburns guy. Several times.Â
âYou.â You spit out, tears forming in your eyes with rage. âYou were at the bar. And the beachâŠand IâI spoke to you. I told youâ-youâve been watching me. Oh my god you've been watching me for months!â
You push yourself away from him as if he could burn you, scooting as far off the mattress as possible until your wrists scream in pain and the rope tightens with your effort of making distance. You felt revolted, violated, these people had been following all of you, watching you for months trying to find out the schedules, the routines, the weaknesses. And you told them what that weakness was. You made this happen that night in the club.Â
âI told them you are all my boyfriends.âÂ
They took you because they wanted something important enough to the boys that it would make them lose everything. That was you.
But it almost could have been Gabi.
You glare upward through your tears. Angel is standing now, completely expressionless. When you meet his eyes, his lip twitches. âI did my job.â
âGo away.â
He wouldnât. He stands there and stares at you with his stupid expressionless face, so you curl up as far away as you can, your back turned from him, half on and half off the mattress. You did everything you could to control your body so he couldnât tell you were silently sobbing. You eventually hear him move away to collapse on the couch and turn the television on. You try to calm yourself with the sounds of whatever heâs watching, but you donât look up.Â
Eventually, you feel yourself dissociating, which is quickly becoming your superpower here. Your eyes slide along the facade of the wall in front of you. You take in every crack, hole, and break in the foundation to the floor you lie on, finally centering in on a hole where the wall meets the floor youâve stared at several times before. Itâs big enough you could fit your arm through. You shift forward with your shoulders on your side, extending your arm out through the hole. The ridge of the building foundation presses into your forearm as your fingers sink into the damp grass. You gasp at the sensation.Â
It was like you had been trapped in this stone and cement prison for so long you had forgotten there was an outside, that there was freedom, and it was bright and lush and waiting. You couldnât give up. It was right there. Tears form in your eyes as you retract your hand, rubbing your fingers together at the wetness left on them from the evening jungle dew.Â
You fall asleep wondering how long it could take to chip away at that hole until it was big enough to squeeze through. Too long.
The sliver of dark greyish blue through the hole in the wall and the tiny bits of light showing through the window on the opposite wall from you are the only indications of how early it is when you wake. You groan, your body sore from sleeping in such shitty positions for so many days in a row and move to roll over, but a muffled crying grabs your attention.
OrâŠa meowing.Â
You sit up abruptly but quietly, letting your eyes adjust to the dim light as they scan frantically around the room. Youâve heard what they do to some of the stray cats wandering around the camp when theyâre bored.Â
The cat meows again and itâs coming from next to you, not further into the room. You peer into the hole in the wall.
âHello?â You whisper and Pspspsps into nothingness.
For several moments, no response, but then..a tiny fluffy head pops around the corner of the wall, tucked inside a hollow little nook that formed when the wall crumbled.Â
âOh my goodness!â You coo, moving slowly so as not to scare it. You set your hand down next to the hole to try to coax the little thing out. âHow long have you been in there?â
The kitten is clearly in distress, you can see that, as it stumbles out of the hole and into your waiting hands. Itâs shivering and slightly wet. And somehow once itâs in your hands itâs like it knows, and it quiets down as you curl back up on the mattress, cupping the kitten against your chest. As you pet it you note that it doesnât feel emaciated, nor is it a newborn from its size. You feel like you were meant to find him. It was meant to find you.
âDid you need someone? Were you lonely? Is that it?â You whisper. âI need someone too.â
The kitten purrs.
â----------
When you wake up again the kitten is still there and you hadnât been disturbed. Youâd made sure your arm and the curve of your body blocked it from view. You didnât want it to get caught. You werenât sure what they would do.Â
In the light you could tell the kitten was a couple months old, not young enough that it should be on its own, but obviously could be on its own. No mother came for it throughout the day, and you found no siblings hidden in the wall.
And for some reason his presence rejuvenated you, renewed your hope and desperation that had been crushed and dying inside your numbing mind. You cannot give up on the ropes. You need to keep pushing. Loosening them and getting out is your only chance. The situation is impossible, yes, youâre in the middle of the jungle, surrounded by sicarios with automatic rifles, you have no idea where you are or if youâll even get very far but you have to try. Youâd rather both you and the kitten die trying to escape and live than waste away here and let them do just whatever.Â
You unhook the kitten from where it was clutching at your top and plop him deep in your lap as you shift upwards into a position with crossed legs. He looks temporarily miffed, but the kitten tiredness quickly overtakes him and he slips back into sleep quickly.Â
In the light of the morning you see him better. Your drive to escape surges as you looked at his face, he clearly needed to see a vet at some point, one of his eyes is weepy and he has crusty boogers coming out of his nose, but otherwise he is, what looked to be, an absolutely adorable medium-haired orange tabby cat.Â
But god he still was just so cute! You wanted to pinch his cheeks and you were pissed you were in this situation because you just wanted to fill your phone with hundreds and hundreds of pictures of him!Â
Fuck! But you did have your phone. You fumble your bound hands at your chest trying to find where youâd tucked your phone in your bra what must have been days ago, but it wasnât there.Â
You just knew. Your body feels like someone threw ice cold water over you. They took it.
Unless it fell out somewhere on the plane or in the jungle, one of these men had touched you when you werenât aware and taken your phone out of your literal breasts.Â
You want to fucking vomit.Â
Your mind races. Do they still have it? Surely it would be dead at this point, but someone could still check its location if they had the technology, which the guys could totally do, right? But why would the sicarios keep that if it would lead the guys right to where you were? NoâŠthey definitely must have gotten rid of it.Â
You hear footsteps and realize the lady with the food is coming, so you quickly re arrange your body to obstruct the view of the kitten, but you needn't have bothered. The lady barely looks at you as she hands you your food. You eat sparingly, opting to save the egg for the kitten. You figure heâd need his strength.Â
And so you waited for Angel. You had to know. You were desperate for any knowledge, the ambiguity was tearing you apart, and you felt like maybe if you at least knew whether they had your phone or not it would give you a clue as to what the fuck was going on and how long youâd be here.Â
Angel had barely even fully entered the room before you almost shouted at him.
âDo you have my phone?â
He stops in his tracks in the doorway, tilting his head to the side and peers at you with those black as night, heavy lidded eyes. He doesnât answer.
You sigh. âI donât want it, obviously I know you wouldnât just give it to me. I justâŠwant to know if you trashed it or still have it.â
âYes, we have it.â
You blink, you werenât even certain he would have answered you when youâd asked.Â
âWell, arenât you afraid of them tracking where I am?â
He smiles and chuckles. You feel sick again.Â
âOh we are counting on it. And they will soon. They wonât stop texting you. Itâs very annoying.â
â---------
Frankie woke abruptly on the fifth day to his phone blaring its ringtone in his ear. Thatâs what he gets he supposes for falling asleep in his bed looking at photos of you on his phone, he supposes. He huffs and puffs but groggily looks at the phone, wiping his eyes when he sees the name. It was your dad.Â
He remembers you putting the number in his phone just in case, but why would your dad be calling him now? Was he about to get yelled at? Chastised? Threatened for hurting you?Â
Part of him didnât even want to answer, but he knew he deserved it anyways, so he did.
âHello?â
âHi. Is thisâŠMrâŠMorales?â
Well this is fucking awkward.Â
âYea, um hi, it is. What can I do for you?â
Damn, he didnât even know your dadâs first name.
âI was just wondering if my daughter was with you or if youâd heard from her lately, I canât seem to get a hold of her.â
Frankie closes his eyes, swallowing the giant lump in his throat. âYeaâŠSir, unfortunately I think that might be my fault. WeâŠbroke up. She was pretty upset about it. Sheâs been ignoring all of our calls.â
There was a pause that felt like years.Â
âOh, I see. IâmâŠsorry to bother you then, I didnât know. Well, if you hear from her can you just ask her to call me so I donât worry?â
âOf course Sir, no problem. When was the last time you heard from her?â
âWe havenât spoken for about 2 weeks but the last time she texted me was 5 days ago. Itâs just not like her to not even send a text or something.â
âThatâs about when we broke up. Iâm sorry if this is my fault..â
âDid you hurt her?â
It feels like he just swallowed a bowling ball. âYes. I did.â
Your dad sighs. âLook, I know youâre a grown man but this is my daughter and I just want to know sheâs okay.â
âNo I understand. I broke her heart. I did. But I havenât touched her or anything. I would never. I didnâ mean to hurt her, I just wanât honest about some things from my past. I know you donât believe me, thatâs your place as a father. I just donât know what the right thing to do here is. I want to call her but I also want to respect her space, if she doesnât want to speak to me. I love her, we all do. My friends all miss her. But I really think she just blocked us all.â He bites his lips, willing himself to stop rambling. Thereâs no way he can make any of this better.
âMy daughter tends to block others out when sheâs upset. I know that well enough. I appreciate what youâve said to me. At this point all I want is to hear from her. Please let me know if she reaches out, or if you can get in touch with her.â
âI will. Iâm really sorry.â
âThank you Mr. Morales, I appreciate it.â The call ends abruptly, and itâs all over..
He leans back against his headboard, chewing on his lip. You and your dad didnât speak often, you werenât one of those âcall each other every other dayâ families, youâd told him that. But for some reason in his gut all of this felt just off.Â
Did he hurt you so bad that youâd ghost on everyone? Including your family? He just didnât know. You were ignoring him, the guys, even Maidali. Maybe youâd just turned your phone off and didnât want to talk to anyone. Maybe he was just being paranoid.Â
Heâs definitely being paranoid. You were suffering a breakup, heâs definitely done worse during one. He slides back down in his bed and tries to go back to bed. He had to pick up Gabi later this morning and try to get his routine back in order. Go back to work, be functional, try to move on. Everything would be fine.
But that deep ball of dread low in his tummy would not go away.
-------
*I'll put the headers and all that in later, you've been waiting long enough...
Youâre still flying high from your orgasm as he kisses and licks his way down your torso and over your belly. You hadnât really absorbed his words, âbet thereâs other places youâre delicious too, and Iâm gona sample them all.â
It isnât until he starts kissing over your mound and hikes your leg over his shoulder that you realise with a jolt what he intends.
Your hips jerk back but youâre still pressed into the wall and Joelâs big, strong hands are holding you in place. Thereâs no escape.
You push at his head to try and stop his kisses but he places a sharp slap against your thigh that makes you gasp and grabs both your wrists in one giant hand and growls at you, âsârude to interrupt a man when heâs feastinâ baby, now quit your wrigglinâ.â He gives the flesh of your mound a playful nip with his teeth and you give a sharp cry as your pussy clenches.
âJoel stop, what are you doing. Itâs dirty, stop!â
You continue to wriggle and try and free yourself from his grip and he canât ignore it anymore, youâre in danger of falling with how youâre squirming and he canât have you hurting yourself.
He looks up at you, his annoyance splashed all over his face but it dissipates when he sees how genuinely panicked you are.
His cock finally twitches back to life as he remembers just how inexperienced you are. That youâve never had a tongue in your pussy before. That you probably didnât know that female oral was even a thing. God it turns him on so much.
He could just fuck you but it wonât do to set the precedent that you can say no to him. And heâs desperate to taste you properly so thatâs whatâs going to happen. But he can slow down. Coax you into it like he has with everything else.
With a groan he gets up off his knees and gives you a quick kiss. Without saying anything he turns off the water of the shower and guides you out, wrapping you in a big towel and putting another one round his waist. His silence is unsettling as he guides you into the bedroom and sits on the edge of his bed, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you.
âNow baby, care to tell me what happened in there?â
Youâre a little surprised by his question, in your eyes itâs obvious. He was going to put his mouth on your most unsanitary place. Why on earth would he do that? Your mind flits back to an image of him sucking his fingers after fucking you with them against your front door. You thought itâd just been desperation to hide the evidence of your tryst from your husband.
He cups your cheek and makes you look at him.
âUse your words baby, what happened?â
The intensity of his gaze and the implication that you did something odd, something that needs an explanation has you confused, your mind reeling. You can see sadness in his eyes and you start questioning yourself. Maybe you had misinterpreted what he was intending to do. Maybe he was just kissing you and then you got all squirmy and pushed him away for no reason. Your heart breaks at the thought of it, that you might have made him think you donât want him.
âIâm sorry Joel, Iâm so sorry. I just got confused and I thoughtâŠI thought you were going to put your mouthâŠdown there,â you babbled, waving your hand over the apex of your thighs to indicate where you meant.
He stifles a smirk. You canât even say it. Pussy, cunt, vagina. He bet you had some sickly sweet name for when you absolutely had to refer to it, flower, or fairy maybe. Heâll change that. Youâll be spewing profanities with ease before long.
He kisses your shoulder to hide his amusement.
âI was.â
âOh,â youâre stumped now. âWhy would you do that Joel? Itâs dirty.â
You wriggle in his lap, youâre not sure whether youâre trying to get away or provide some much needed friction to your aching core. You feel how wet you are, how youâre literally dripping, even after your shower. And you know thereâs probably still traces of his cum mixed with it. Not to mention thatâs where your pee comes from. And he wants to put his mouth there? You shudder at the thought.
âIt ainât dirty baby. I want to experience every part of you. Want to make you feel good, I promise itâll feel so, so good.â
âButâŠâ
âBut what baby? Tell me.â
His head has dropped to your neck and heâs planting soft little kisses on that sensitive spot that makes your brain go mushy.
âAh, Joel,â you gasp, so unbelievably turned on for him you almost forget what you had been discussing. And when he reaches to pull down your towel and wraps his beefy hand around your boob once more, your clit throbs with want.
âPlease Joel, I need you.â
He pulls you down into a needy kiss, his tongue desperately plundering your mouth. You shift in his lap, trying to find something to rub your clit against but his hands hold your hips firm, keeping you in place.
You whine into his mouth. Youâre so horny it hurts. You need him to take the ache away.
âI know baby, I know. Iâll take care of you I promise. Just let me taste you baby, please.â
âJoel!â you wail.
âPlease baby. Itâll feel so good. Better even than when I sucked on your tits, and I know you liked that.â To prove his point he ducks his head and wraps his lips around your still hard nipple and gives it a big suck before grazing the pebbled bud with his teeth. Your whole body shudders with desire.
Youâre losing the battle. With every passing second your body is pumping out more and more of your arousal. Youâre absolutely soaked. Youâre needy and desperate and you have to have him. You barely recognise yourself.
You try one more time to forestall him.
âBut Joel, Iâm allâŠsticky, itâs yucky.â
You feel his dick twitch beneath you and the groan that rumbles from his chest doesnât help the situation between your legs. Youâre so embarrassed. It canât be normal, you think, to be leaking this much. Heâs going to be disgusted and then what? You canât bear the thought of this ending.
He pinches your chin and forces you to look at him.
âIt ainât âyuckyâ you hear me? Youâre so good baby, such a good girl gettinâ all wet for me. I just want to taste it and give that beautiful pussy some kisses. Itâll make me so happy baby, donât you want to make me happy?â
Of course you want to make him happy. He looks at you with the biggest, saddest puppy eyes and you feel awful for making him doubt it. Youâd do anything for him.
âI do. I want to make you happy. Iâm just worried youâll think itâs disgusting when you see how much there is, and thenâŠthen you wonât want me anymore.â
Joelâs heart is set to beat right out of his chest. Thatâs what youâre worried about? Youâre so adorably clueless.
He holds your face in his palms and makes you look at him again.
âOh baby youâre the sweetest little thing.â He peppers kisses all over your face before standing with you still in his arms and laying you down on the bed.
He hovers over you and kisses you on the lips before looking deep into your eyes.
âNow letâs get one thing straight ok. Ainât nothing your body can do that is ever gona make me not want you baby, yâhear me? You get a little cold and that cute little nose of yours starts running, boogers everywhere? Iâll still think youâre the most beautiful woman I ever met. You get sick and start pukinâ and poopinâ everywhere? Iâll take care oâyou and clean you and nurse you through it, and when youâre recovered Iâll make love to you just the same.â
Your ears go red with embarrassment at the crass things heâs saying but the sentiment is so beautiful it makes you want to cry. No one has ever wanted to take care of you like that. Youâve always been the one doing that for others. Your heart swells. You love him so much.
Heâs started kissing his way down your body, still talking and your hand has found its way into his hair again.
âAnd when you get wet for me baby, fuck! It turns me on so much. And the wetter you get the more turned on it makes me.â
Heâs kissing his way over your belly and the ache at your centre has reached fever pitch now. His hands are back on your tits and you moan lowly as he kneads them.
As his lips land on your mound his hands slide down your body, gripping your thighs and pushing them up and out, exposing you fully to his greedy eyes.
You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see him properly as he stares at you. At that sacred space that should only be for your husband but you know now fully belongs to Joel.
You see his tongue dart out and lick over his lower lip. Fuck that pouty lip drives you insane with lust. Youâre panting. Overwrought and over-stimulated and so fucking horny.
âLet me taste her baby please,â he whines, needy and desperate, âitâll feel good, I promise, you trust me donât you?â
And after everything that heâs just said thereâs no way you can deny him. You lock eyes and nod.
Itâs all he needs. His face turns hungry and he dives straight in, licking a broad stripe from your hole to your clit, moaning in delight the whole way.
Your back arches and your hips buck, he was right. It feels incredible. And when he growls out, so fuckinâ delicious,â and gives you another long lick your arms give out beneath you and your head tips back, all your fears melted away.
He uses his tongue to circle your engorged clit but itâs so sensitive now after being left wanting for so long your hips try to retreat of their own accord. His hands are there immediately, pulling you back into the torturous circuits of his tongue.
After a few moments you get used to it and you start grinding down into him, desperate for more as throaty moans pour from your mouth and the hand in his hair grabs and pulls, trying to get him even closer.
He fucking loves it, he growls his approval into your pussy, âthatâs it baby, fuckinâ use me, pull on my hair, show me how much you want it.â
His cock is painfully hard and heâs leaking all over himself and dripping onto the floor, his towel lying forgotten over the backs of his calfâs. Youâre so fucking perfect for him.
He slurps and sucks at your folds, making sure to collect every bit of your arousal he can and yet more just keeps pumping out of you. He pulls back for a moment to watch your pretty hole clench around nothing and he almost comes untouched.
He dives straight back in when you whine at the loss of contact. Licking you whole a few more times before he wraps his lips around your bud and sucks, hard.
You break immediately. Your cunt whacks him in the face as your hips buck wildly with the force of your orgasm.
Heâs in awe as you scream his name, âJOOOOOOEEEEEELLL!!!â and your body convulses harder than heâs ever seen it. Youâre gripping his hair so hard he thinks he might have a bald spot. Heâs never been so fucking proud of himself. His cock pulses and hot ropes of cum explode out of the tip onto his abdomen and chest.
You groan with every exhale as you come down. Your body flops onto the bed, all your strength gone.
Joel wastes no time in diving back in, noisily slurping up your cum and circling his tongue around your entrance. He waits until he can see the awareness come back into your eyes before pushing the hot wet muscle into you as deep as it will go.
You wail and your thighs try to close round his head but his hands are there, keeping you spread. Thereâs no escape from his hunger. He wants to spend the rest of his life at this little slice of heaven right here between your legs.
You briefly lift your head to see him looking at you as he fucks his tongue into you over and over. You donât have the strength to hold your head up for long and it flops down onto the mattress as you continue to moan and whimper for him.
Despite your exhaustion you can feel that coil tightening in you once again. You donât try to fight it, just lay there and let Joel have his way with you, listening to the obscene squelching coming from your body.
You reach down towards him wrapping your fingers round his wrist, just to feel him. He immediately lets go of your thigh and wraps his hand around yours, threading your fingers together. The sweet gesture of tender intimacy sends another gush of arousal right onto his waiting tongue and he groans in approval.
He brings your joined hands down over your mound and guides your interlaced fingers over your clit, rubbing circles into it as he continues his relentless tongue thrusts.
Within moments youâre coming apart again, but where the last one was a bolt of lightening, electrifying and violent this one is waves of warmth and tingles, not gentle but less energetic.
Joel continues his ministrations until your body finally stills. He climbs up over you, resting his body prone over yours. Your slick is spread all over his face, beard and neck and his cum smears over your body as he cradles you to him.
âDid so fuckinâ good for me angel, so fuckinâ perfect. Made me cum all over myself like a fuckinâ teenager.â
âJoel,â you mewl into his neck, wrapping your arms around him and clinging on for dear life. You feel strangely raw and vulnerable. You bury your face in his chest, ignoring the sticky remnants of his cum and listen to the beat of his heart, letting it soothe you.
âI got you baby, I got you.â He pulls you in tighter and kisses your head, rubbing a hand up and down your spine.
When he moves to pull away you whine and whimper.
âJust gona go and get a cloth to clean us up angel, I wonât be long. Got to get you some water too, canât have my lady gettinâ dehydrated.â
You shake your head and cling to him harder. He relents and sinks back into you, nuzzling his nose against the side of your face. He takes a minute to appreciate you. How beautiful you are, how good it feels to have you in his arms. And he knows that heâs cooked.
He knows if any other woman acted this needy and clingy after sex heâd have thrown them out without remorse. But with you itâs sweet. Endearing. Youâve made him go soft. And he doesnât mind at all.
