imagine making love to price.
price who’s got you under him in the dim light of the bedroom, the heat of his body pressing you into the sheets, cock buried deep, moving in these slow, grinding thrusts that make your breath hitch every time he rocks forward.
thick head dragging against the walls of your cunt, making your toes curling against the backs of his thighs. can’t help but feel the way your fingers dig into his back, holding on tight. slick slide of sweat between your chests, pace that lets him savor every hot flutter and clench of your cunt around him.
soft little whimper that slips out when he angles just right and lingers there, grinding deep so you can feel the stretch and the heat of him pulsing against your walls before he pulls back slow.
mumbling against his mouth between one kiss and the next, lips brushing his as your voice comes out all hazy and wondering, asking what’s gotten into him because he’s never like this, never this gentle with it, never this sweet about the way he’s touching you and kissing you, tongue warm and familiar when he dips in to taste the question right off your lips.
and price just smiles into the kiss, that low warm rumble vibrating through his chest where it’s pressed tight to yours and right against your mouth as he answers without missing a single beat of those slow thrusts, can’t a man just appreciate his girl?
warmth of his palm cupping your cheek, thumb stroking slow along your jaw while his hips keep that steady rhythm, deep and unhurried, letting you feel every thick inch of him dragging along your walls on every push, the heat building low in your belly with every grind.
body soft and pliant under him, melting when he kisses you slow and deep instead of biting at your throat, breath catching and fans warm across his lips. cunt fluttering hot and wet around him, squeezes like it’s trying to pull him in deeper, like it wants more of the slow drag and the way his pubic bone presses firm against your clit on every thrust.
eyes going soft and glassy when he tells you how good you feel, how perfect you are for him, how much he loves having you like this, the little tremor that runs through your thighs when he shifts and sinks even deeper.
keeps you close, chest to chest, one of your legs hooked high around his waist so he can grind in on every thrust, slick heat making the slide easier, wetter, the sound of it mixing with the low creak of the bed and his heavier breathing.
hand stroking down your side, your hip, your thigh, anywhere he can reach because he can’t seem to stop touching you, can’t get enough of the way your skin feels under his palm, warm and damp with sweat, the way you shiver when his calloused fingers brush over a sensitive spot.
doesn’t rush. doesn’t push you toward the edge with rough hands and filthy words. just loves you through it, slow and sweet, swallowing every little gasp and whimper you let out like they’re his favorite sounds, tasting the salt on your skin when he dips his head to kiss the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your neck, your breast.
and when you start to tighten up around him again, body trembling as that slow building pleasure finally crests into something overwhelming, price just holds you through it. murmurs quiet little praises against your mouth about how good you are, how beautiful you look coming apart for him like this, how much he appreciates his girl.
the way your cunt pulses and ripples hot and tight around his cock in gentle waves that make his own breath catch. stays buried deep while you come around him, riding it out with those same slow rolls of his hips until you’re boneless and clinging to him, until the tight flutter of your cunt pulls his own release from him in warm, pulsing waves that fill you up and make you whimper at the fullness, the heat of it spreading inside you.
stays right there after, cock still nestled inside you, bodies pressed close and slick with sweat that cools in the air between you, kissing you lazy and sweet while you both float down from it, the taste of each other lingering on your tongues until you drift off to sleep.
later you stir when the mattress dips and the warmth at your back disappears, the soft sound of fabric rustling as price moves quiet through the room getting dressed.
can’t help the questioning noise that slips out of you when you blink awake and see him sitting on the edge of the bed lacing up his boots
he turns at the sound, that familiar low rumble in his chest as he leans over and presses a kiss to your temple, lips warm, beard scraping lightly against your skin, murmuring that he has an errand to run, go back to sleep love before you can even form the question properly.
the bed dips again when he stands, the door clicking shut soft behind him, and you drift back into sleep with the ghost of his kiss still tingling on your skin and the sheets still warm where his body had been.
only to wake the next morning to the violent crash of the front door being forced open, the wood splintering under the weight of booted feet as armed figures pour into the flat while you scream “what the hell” and scramble to yank the blanket up over your bare chest.
ghost following the men, moving silent through the space with the others, clearing rooms with heavy footsteps echoing off the walls and the sound of doors being shoved open while gaz takes one look at your state and heads straight for your closet, rifling through and pulling out clothes without asking.
kate stepping up to the side of the bed as you clutch the blanket tighter and demand answers, her voice calm but firm when she asks where price is.
telling her you don’t know, the words tumbling out in a rush, and demand to know what the hell this is about only for her to meet your eyes with a steady look and say “he’s wanted for questioning.”
“for what!?” you demand, voice sharp and panicking.
and she just looks down at you for several long seconds, the silence stretching thick in the air between you while the sounds of boots and doors continue in the other rooms, her expression unreadable as your heart pounds hard against your ribs and the blanket feels suddenly too thin against your bare skin, before she finally answers, voice even and steady, “the murder of general shepherd.”
