All updates and new fics will be over @georgiapeach30513 and then reblogged to this blog. You can find the Masterlist here
Series
Man Out of Time
The never ending story about OFC Charlie Allen and her travels through the MCU with Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. I do not foresee this ending anytime soon, and I enjoy randomly writing chapter and shorts for it.
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Desperate Affairs
Engaged to Andy Barber, and deeming him too safe, and only wanting to be intimate to get you pregnant, you start a sex only relationship with Ransom Drysdale. Nothing is ever easy, and you get yourself into a web of lies. Are you the only one lying? This has a whole heap of Chris Evans characters!
When Steve Rogers is on the run, what’s his girlfriend to do when after a year she’s had no response from him? Well, she gets in a relationship with Soldier Boy
🛡Part 1🛡Part 2🛡Part 3🛡
Meeting Soldier Boy
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Moon Rituals
As the last Moon Sprite you should stay safe behind your Faerie Ring but when a handsome Chase Collins waits for a Faerie outside of the ring. What does the witch want?
🌓Part 1🌗Part 2🌓Part 3🌗
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The North Princess & The Seven Men
❄ Prologue ❄ Steve Rogers ❄Colin Shea ❄ Chris Beck ❄
One Shots
The majority of these are just random and wanting to have fun with different characters/scenarios. And because I’m a slut for Sebastian Stan and Chris Evans characters why not?
Summary: It was purely an accident. You didn’t mean to send naked pictures to your coworker while he was meeting with the boss! You never expected him to open up said photos while he was with him! You definitely didn’t expect for his phone to be connected to the projector and not only did he see everything, but so did the district attorney! This was NEVER supposed to happen. And now he needs to make sure that you two keep your mouths closed. Well…keep you from talking. He definitely wants your mouth open.
Pairings: Andy Barber X Reader X Dean Di Laurentis
Rating: explicit
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, naked photos at work, blackmail, filming, a moment of cuckolding, unprotected sex, D/s dynamics, "Daddy", PIV sex, oral sex (F and M receiving), sub space, safe word, double vaginal penetration, dirty talk, dumbification, degradation, double creampie, eating creampie, snowballing, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 4.1K
Dean Di Laurentis Masterlist
To say that Andy is annoyed would be a damn understatement. He knew coming into this meeting with Dean was off to a rough start the moment he saw him smiling at a damn phone. And not just a simple smile, on no. It was that kind of smile that means he recently got laid. Of course it doesn’t end there, not if he is giggling like some stupid school girl.
Andy is too old for this bullshit, and his dick hasn’t gotten wet in a really long time. Not since after the divorce. The idea of a relationship sounds repulsive. But being able to smell a woman that is aroused, and feeling her delicate legs wrap around his waist, tightening as she reaches orgasm. The warmth of her cunt wrapped around him as he spills into her.
“Goddammit,” he groans, sitting down quickly. It’s been so long for him that just thinking about wet skin and his cum is making him hard.
Dean hides his phone into his lap, and looks up at Andy guiltily. Just like a small child. He’s a damn adult. “Yes, so we’re going over the Rogers V Carter case.”
“I thought I told you about phones in our meeting,” Andy growls. It isn’t necessarily Dean’s fault. He’s just a bit pissy that the man is clearly in the beginning of a relationship and currently residing in the sex is amazing and nonstop phase. Andy is currently in his bitter angry and need to fuck a woman stupid phase.
“Well,” he stutters, and looks back down to his lap. A grin pulls up his mouth, and Andy can only imagine what the younger man is discussing. Phone sex most likely. Maybe some teasing photos. Jealousy is an annoying emotion. “We, uh, I mean, you weren’t in here. And I was discussing this case with, no.”
Andy’s brow cocks up. Discussing a case does not make someone this fidgety. So clearly he’s lying. “Has what’s-her-face sent the notes for the day?” Dean looks at him confused, “The office manager.”
“Oh, you mean, Filly,” Dean wishes Andy would stop doing that with his brow. It’s unnerving how it quickly pops up. A question without words is not normal. “Well, th-that’s what I call her. M-my, no,” he shakes his head. “No, just Filly. She calls me a young buck, it’s kinda our thing.”
“Isn’t this trial next week?”
“Yup.”
“The notes?” Whatever woman that Dean has on his steady rotation must be good for him. The young man is acting dense as all get out.
“Oh, right,” he fumbles. “Just — I’ll send her a message,” clearing his throat, he sends you a quick message, and reaches for the projector. “It won’t take her long, she's very fast — efficient,” he nearly shouts at Andy. “I’ll, umm, put my phone away now.”
“Okay, so our time slot is,” Andy freezes. His eyes immediately stare unblinking at the screen. He has no idea what possessed you to send this photo, but you look glorious. Spread and bent into a pretzel. Not fully naked, but giving just enough away.
“Oh god,” Dean panics, clicking the remote, and each photo gets more and more explicit. “No. Nononononono,” you’re not completely alone in these photos. Hands pin you down, and spread you out. And that infuriating dummy is clicking through the photos too fast.
“Was that just a dick?” Yes, it was. It had you spread wide open. These are the most explicit photos he has ever seen, and he can’t even take the time to enjoy them. Not to mention his cock is fully hard, and he’s a grown professional man looking at porn with his partner while at work. Fuck he’s hard.
“Nope. Not a dick. Sir, I’m trying real hard…”
“Don’t use the word hard right now,” Andy growls, and Dean looks over to him. He is hardly even blinking. His eyes are trained on the screen in front of him, and his knuckles turn white with how hard he’s gripping the table.
“Are — are you getting hard?”
“No, inappropriate question.”
“Given the circumstance,” he shrugs, and looks back at the screen. A series of photos show up back to back. Fingers gathering the cum in your pussy. Fingers dripping the cum into your mouth. And that bastard sitting across from Andy, smiling as he puts his cock into your mouth while you clean it. “No!”
“What the actual fuck?”
“Sir, I can explain. She, uh…”
“Dean!” You burst into the meeting room. “I sent the wrong files. Oh god,” you stare horrified. The last photo of the group. Dean’s thick veiny cock shoved into your cheek while cum drips down your chin. “I can…I gotta go,” there is nothing else going through your head besides getting out of here.
Embarrassment doesn’t even begin to cover how humiliated you feel. Andy Barber saw yours and Dean’s homemade porn. Thankfully it wasn’t videos, but all the stylized photos that he had to make. He asked for the files. Of course he meant the case files. Not your fucking pussy!
“Sir, I can explain.”
“How do you explain that you’re fucking the office manager?”
Dean narrows his eyes as he tries to think, “I got nothing,” there’s no point. He’s fucked you, been fucking you, and he will continue to fuck you. It’s not that serious. You use him as a dildo at this point. And he obliges every single time.
“Is she a good lay?”
“What?” His voice squeaks looking at Andy.
“I’m asking…how she rides.”
“Did — did you just ask what I think you asked?”
Andy smirks. This couldn’t be more perfect. “I just saw your girlfriend’s cunt filled with your cum. Saw your fingers inside of her, dripping with said cum, and then letting her clean off those fingers and your cock. Asking how she rides is mild. I could ask how she tastes. How her cunt feels when she has you in a vice grip. Or I could even ask if she could handle two cocks.”
“Oh, well. Umm…can I get back with you?”
“See that you do,” Dean nods as he stands up. “Oh, and Dean? Make sure she understands. I’d hate to have to find a new office manager.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good boy.”
——
“And what exactly do you want me to do?” You whisper scream at Dean. He cornered you. Stopped you right before you left work, and could pretend that this didn’t happen. Just how much had Andy seen? The man was still freshly divorced, and he probably thinks you were trying to come onto him.
You weren’t.
You’re not opposed to it. But you have convinced yourself that your odd morbid curiosity of wondering what everyone’s genitalia looks like is just some weird quirk. You didn’t actually desire to see Andy naked.
Unless he wanted to. There’s no way you would fight that man off.
”YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!” Dean looks frantic. You’re trying to be oblivious, and he’s making it impossible to. This is why you never should have agreed to him taking photos. And just when you were in the mood to start filming.
Dean is an incredible lay, but it’s purely just sex. No strings attached of course.
You shrug, trying to play it cool, “How many did he see?”
“All of them.”
“All of them?” You recall some were just Dean spreading you open before his incredible tongue started to spear into you.
“All. Of. Them.”
“Well, good thing it's the weekend. Come Monday this will all be a dream,” you try to leave. You are suffocating in this small space. Dean will come over tonight, and you will have your way with him until Sunday morning. That’s the arrangement. That’s how you like it. That’s all you want.
But instead of getting to leave and playing dumb, Dean grabs your arm, “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy. He’s Andy fucking Barrber. The damn district attorney.”
“Well, this is more of a you problem because you’re the one that showed the photos, and my face isn’t in the photos,” he cocks an eyebrow up at you. “Shit,” Dean has been lowering your walls too much. Sex is fun and healthy, and being playful and kinky with sex is fine. Your face is a new addition to the photos. “So what is the play?”
“You’re not going to like Andy’s suggestion.”
“Ugh,” there will be meetings. This will take too much of your extra time trying to make up for bad office behavior. “What, some classes?”
“You’re going to have to keep an open mind.”
“I am not doing some retreat.”
“Remember when we were having fun with my dick and a hot pink dildo?”
“Di Laurentis, I need to eat before you get me horny,” you remember. Dean is just as experimental as you. But you’re still at the office, and you would rather he get to Andy’s suggestion on your reprimanding.
“How do you feel about two at once?” Your eyes open wide as you gawk at him. “It sounds crazy.”
“It sounds fucking insane. No, thank you.”
“Andy’s persuasive,” you didn’t care. This is treading into territory that you had no business in being in. “Either two at once, or…I’m going to have to get you to clean out your desk.”
“Are you serious?” He nods. Andy did want to play. With him being newly divorced he doesn’t need anything serious either. You have wondered. There’ve been times he’s walked through that door wearing a magnificent peacoat, and you immediately want to get on your knees. Andy is more your speed. Dean is fun. But he’s lacking something you really need. But having both? It would fulfill every fantasy.
“You have been curious about double penetration, and double vaginal…,” you cover his mouth with your hands. You’re still at work. He didn’t need to mention this. He pulls your hand away from his mouth, and offers a very oddly satisfying smirk. “You did want me to find a third.”
Well well well. He does listen, “Good boy,” Dean gives a sickeningly sweet smile as he preens. “No one can know”
“Of course not.”
“And we’ll need insurances.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“I want it filmed,” Dean gulps. He’s been begging on his knees, literally for this. “We have to protect ourselves.”
“Of course.”
“Are you ready?” He nods eagerly. Sweet boy. “Okay. You know the rules. Now, let me get some food and hydrate. You explain to Andy the rules. And Dean? Anything goes.”
“Yes, ma’am. Anything,” he is such a good boy.
——
“Who is this video for?” Andy asks, taking his belt off. You point to the chair over in the corner. Marriage is not in the future, but you will pretend that he’s your husband, and Dean is your boy toy. For now.
“Us,” you simply respond. Your voice is already hitting a different pitch. Andy tilts his head watching the younger man feast on your cunt. “You weren’t supposed to see those photos.”
“I wasn’t?” You shake your head no, and run your fingers through Dean’s golden locks. This man’s tongue is a work of art. “He comes inside you?”
“You can, too.”
“What protection do you have?”
“Are you clean?” He holds up his test results. “I have an IUD,” Andy clears his throat, and adjusts his pants. He might have questioned just how sexy watching another man fuck into a woman is, but he is immensely enjoying himself. You’d already shown him yours and Dean’s current results. Healthy sex is important.
“So how is this going to go,” his mouth falls open as you lean back. Dean’s hands have traveled up your stomach. Deft fingers tweak at your nipples, and his tongue...my god, his tongue alone could destroy you. “He’s…enthusiastic.”
“You have no idea,” your body starts to undulate with his ministrations. You don’t even care about the man with an uncomfortable looking bulge in the corner. All you care about is your wildest dreams starting to come true. “After I come on his tongue, you decide.”
“You sure about that?”
“Oh, Mr. Barber,” you coo. “I’ve always wanted someone to control me. Tell me what to do,” he gulps again. Laurie was probably very vanilla in the bed, but this man, this man is very open. “As long as we all get to come.”
“Both of us in your cunt?”
“Whatever you want.”
“What if I want for Dean to clean you up with his tongue?” You look down at Dean, and he looks so pretty staring up at you from between your thighs. He smiles before sucking your bundle of nerves, and you stare up at the ceiling, mewling out his name, “Very enthusiastic.”
Andy stalks towards the two of you. He isn’t going to wait for Dean to ride you through your undoing. You’ll have plenty of time for that. Right now, he is starving to be inside you. Leaning forward, he gives Dean a little swat to his naked ass, “Thanks for making her messy. Now move,” Dean leans back on his calves and pouts up at Andy.
Your body is pliant enough that the older man tosses you up the bed with no resistance. He practically rips his clothes off before he’s crawling onto the bed, and ripping your legs apart, “I’m not gentle.”
“And I’m not breakable,” it takes him two seconds before he is splitting you in half. One harsh and swift thrust, and he feeds your cunt full of him. You squeak at the feeling. The two of these men couldn’t be more different. Both sizable cocks, but wherever Andy lacks in length, Dean makes up for it. While Dean may have a beautifully long cock, Andy has the girth of the gods.
“Aww, she couldn’t take it all,” you sit up, looking between the two of you. Just where the two of you meet, he has you split wider than you ever have been before. And there are about three more inches to go. The base of his cock is too large. “Dean, quit your pouting, and spit on it. She needs help.”
Andy has both your legs in his hands, and he has you so sprawled out, you can hardly move. Hearing him command Dean to spit on you, and that angel sits up and listens does something to you. Dean lets a trail of his saliva drip down on Andy’s cock, and your boss pounds forward. Making your cunt swallow him balls deep, and you whimper.
“Is — is she okay?” Dean asks, looking up at Andy. Completely in a submissive state, now you get to enjoy yourself and go into your own sub mind.
“Oh, she’s fine. Aren’t you, Filly?” He doesn’t give you time to respond, only rockets in and out of you. He wasn’t lying, he is far from gentle. His thrusts are harsh. Snapping into you with so much force, your eyes roll into the back of your head, and words evade you. It’s only pure moans of pleasure.
“Hear that?” Dean gazes up at Andy before returning to look at him owning your body, “She loves it rough. She has wanted someone to destroy her, and we’re…we’re both going to own this messy little cunt. You think she can handle it?”
There is something so demeaning, and yet delicious about the two of them talking like you’re not there. Like you’re not seeing stars from his thunderous movements. Like you are nothing more than a plaything to them. God, this is what you’ve wanted. To get out of your brain, and go dumb. It’s what you’ve deserved. Life has been hellish since…
“Fuck you feel so damn good. Dean, you’ve been holding out on me,” Dean rejoices in the fact that he’s been getting to delight in your body. Dean may not fuck you like he owns you, always. But he satisfies an itch you never knew you had. You didn’t get to explore fantasies with your ex. It was the standard positions. Never bringing in toys. Never the dirty talk. Always feeling slightly unsatisfied.
“Oh, there she goes,” he chuckles, slapping your face lightly. “You still here, sweetheart,” barely. It’s all about the feeling of freedom, and right now you’re flying. He stuffs his thumb in your mouth, waiting for you to suck on the appendage before moving your head to look up at him.
You meet his gaze, loving the feel of his heated breath fanning across your face, “I’m going to roll us over, so you can straddle me, okay?” You nod dumbly. “And then that angel on the floor is going to come behind you, and he’s going to coat his cock in lube,” yes. Yesyesyesyesyes. You nod, mumbling around him. “And then he’s slowly going to push inside of your cunt, okay?” You nod again.
“Do you remember your safe word?”
“Appull,” you slur, and Andy beams at you. You’d never noticed how pretty the constellations of freckles that splay across his cheeks are.
“Good girl. Even when you’re just a dumb cockslut, ready for two cocks in this tight cunt, you’re still so smart, huh?” You preen at his praise. Sighing with happiness, and he drops to the bed, taking you with me. He never even leaves your warmth.
“Go on. Start riding daddy. Dean, grab that lube, we don’t want to hurt her, do we?”
“No. We don’t hurt her,” while Dean fiddles around with the bottle of lube, you grind over Andy. Arms firmly on his chest. He is all man. Hairy in all the right ways. And he feels so fucking good.
So good. So good. So good.
It’s a mantra in your head. Every bounce on him. So good.
Dean fists his cock as he positions himself, and Andy pulls you down to his chest. He centers your face to look directly at his eyes, “Don’t look away,” he growls. You gasp as the pressure of Dean’s cock pushes past your entrance. “Eyes on me. What’s my name?”
“Daddy?”
“Good girl. How does it feel?”
“It hurts,” more of a sting really. Not enough to want this to stop. You have never felt so full in your life. “Daddy!”
“You know the rules. You want us to stop, say the word,” you can’t. You’re too curious to know what it would feel like to have them both inside of you. To know that they want to do this again and again. To let your walls come down, and to fully immerse yourself into the beautiful soundless nothingness of euphoria. You shake your head no. “Fuck. She’s tight.”
Dean breathes heavily on your back. He slides all the way home, and his forehead collapses on your shoulder. “Fuck me!” Andy nearly screams. “Goddamn, this is heaven,” Dean gives your shoulder a nibble. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Get used to it.”
You don’t ever want to get used to this. This truly is heaven. This is everything. Your body molds to them perfectly. This is…it just is. It’s powerful even in this submissive state. You press onto Andy’s chest, and you lift yourself up. You need his body to anchor you, and you ride them. They don’t even move, and you’re able to fuck them both simultaneously. Taking all of your pleasure, and somehow they get something out of it too.
“Such a filthy girl. Got you dripping all over us. Go on,” unprompted, Dean spanks your ass, and you ride harder. Letting yourself drop onto them, fusing the three of you together in this weird ass triangle that you’re obsessed with.
“Fuck me,” Dean breathes onto your back, and you go harder. Harder. Tits bouncing in Andy’s face that he just can’t stand not to grab, and suck on them. Going back and forth between the two while he smiles up at you with so much awe. “God, you feel so fucking good. Take it. Take all of it, Filly.”
That’s just what you want. All of it. Dean looks over to the camera smiling. Out of his head, and enjoying the show, “You look like such a fucking slut. You are a slut.”
“Our slut,” Andy groans, and grips tight to your hips. “Only our slut, huh?”
“Yeah. Yeah! I’m your slut.”
“Every weekend,” well… “Work is going to be so hard. I won’t be able to think of anything but the way you feel wrapped around us.”
“I’m your dumb slut!” Your leg starts quivering, and your movements get quicker. Harder. Faster. Deeper. “I’m gonna…”
“We can tell,” Dean struggles to get out. “You’ve got us locked in so tight. You feel so good. So fucking good,” the praises! Another thing you never got. They cherish you. It’s just sex, but at this moment, you’re their very reason for breathing.
“Come on, baby, let go. Let go; we’re right behind you,” as much as you don’t want this to end, it’s almost too much. Everything is heightened, and tears spring to your eyes with how good it feels. You could have had this. You could have had someone that adores you so much that they’re begging for your release just so they can orgasm.
You intake a short breath, and everything explodes. Screams and trembles release just as you do. You can’t see. Can’t breathe. Can’t fathom what is happening. But you do feel Dean and Andy fuck you through your orgasm, and don’t stop until ropes of their hot sticky cum struggles to find a place to land with how much you’re stuffed full.
Immediately they begin to leak out of you. “Dean?” Andy huffs out. “I need you to pull out,” he looks at his boss oddly. “Then you’re going to spread her open, and lick us out of her cunt. Don’t swallow.”
Dean almost sounds pained as he exits your body, and Andy expertly turns you to the side. Getting to his knees, he runs his cocks through your lips. He grazes his messy cock, covered in their spend on your pillowy pout, while Dean gently licks through your swollen pussy. Every whimper out of your lips has him going softer. More gentle. Taking care of you in a way you never have dreamed of.
He truly is a god with his mouth. His hands press onto the side of your gaping cunt as he widens you, and he licks a stripe right up the middle. “Good boy, get her all cleaned up. Now come here,” Andy says before leaning back. “Drip it into her mouth,” Dean smiles before leaning over. Tongue hanging out, he lets the filth drip slowly past your lips, and you reach up to him. Fuck this.
You pull his mouth onto yours, and you suck on his tongue like you were born to do so. Swallowing every ounce of their cum as if it’s a life force. “Two little cum sluts,” Andy chuckles, and slowly grips his cock. “God this weekend is going to go by too fast. I’m going to enjoy you two.”
You fall back onto the bed, gasping for air. “I need you out by Sunday morning.”
“No, I need you to be sore on Monday.”
“Then you better fuck me until Sunday morning.”
Andy looks to Dean confused. A silence passes between them, and he looks at you, hoping to be told what to do. He sighs, “Her husband has to drop her kid off.”
“Husband?”
“Estranged, and about to be ex husband,” you look at him angrily. “Let me bask in post sex bliss before you piss me off.”
“I didn’t know…”
“Married only in the legal sense. I don't want a relationship. I want to have fun, and enjoy sex finally. Dean, will you stop the camera, and lock it in the vault? Andy, I take this very seriously so my douchebag of a husband has no reason to seek full custody. Now, while he’s doing that, start dry humping me, until you get hard. You owe me another orgasm. We’re not having this conversation again.”
“Okay. Nothing serious,” you give him a nod. “But…”
“Don’t.”
“I’m good with kids,” little fucker. Now is not the time for this discussion. Now is the time for orgasms, cum, and sweaty skin.
“Andy! Just make me come!”
He rolls his eyes before settling over you. “Fine,” he is supposed to want just sex. But after tonight? He wants it all. You. Dean. And a family. This is why he can’t spend too much time alone. He gets in his head. Gets lonely. Then gets attached.
“Andy, roll your body on me. And don’t make me command you to do anything for the rest of the weekend.”
“As you wish,” there’s time later. Time to get you on the right page. Dean already is. It could work. It will work.
Summary: Steve makes good with his promise. He will own you.
Pairings: Pirate!Steve Rogers X Reader
Rating: explicit
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, collar, leash, public displays of teasing, exposing reader in front of people, retelling of being exposed to an audience, retelling about getting caught during a sexual experience, talks about selling off daughters for marriage, PIV sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, cleaning reader, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 5.9K
Previous
Series Masterlist
You take too long to wake up. It is astounding how comfortable you have become on this ship. In his bed. Not even stirring when he got out of the bed. Maybe you should have. You shouldn’t allow yourself to be such a heavy sleeper. Not when he’s around.
He picks at his teeth as he watches you slumber. If he didn’t know any better he would think that you’re at peace. Just where you belong.
In a sheer nightgown, leaning towards his side of the bed, and your slowly healing brand on your inner wrist on display. Beautiful. Branding you wasn’t quite enough for him, especially since you don’t know how to survive on a ship without falling into the open seas. It would never do, and he can’t possibly protect you, definitely didn’t want to keep you locked in here.
How will he ever convince people that you belong to him? He gives the rope a little wiggle, and your precious self barely moves. You’re already getting used to his solution to keeping you right with him. After diving into the sea to save your life, he had to remind his crew and himself that you’re nothing more than just property. Merely a cute puppet. You’ll soon figure it out. Once you get your ass out of bed.
You are such a pretty thing when you sleep. That gown remained unbuttoned, and your right tit is spilling out. It isn’t near enough, barely half a nipple poking through, but it’s enough to have his cock at half mast. You shouldn’t be a distraction. If you would just shut up and let him fuck you the way he needs to. It’d do you some good as well.
A pretty cocksleeve, and nothing more.
His booted foot starts tapping on the bedframe. Bored from your lack of a pissy attitude. And he knows when you awake you’re going to get that adorable scowl on your face. Not realizing that nothing you could say or do will make him torture you any less. Because you are his to do whatever he wants to with.
Soon not only will you understand that, but you’ll also crave all the ways that he can and will deliciously own you.
“Can you stop making that annoying noise?” You don’t even bother opening your eyes. You don’t want to see his face. You just want that tapping to stop. “Steve.”
“Yes, Siren?”
“Stop.”
“No,” you turn to the other side, and immediately fire burns in your belly, and you spring up from the bed. Glaring at the collar and rope around your neck. A rope that leads right to his hand. “Good morning.”
“You fucking bastard! Get this damn thing off my neck immediately!”
“Keep screaming, it’s making me hard. But make sure you’re wet, so I can fuck you properly.”
“Keep your cock away from me unless you’re taking this off me!”
“If I remove your collar can I fuck you without you screaming? Well, unless it’s screams of pleasure.”
“Ugh!! You are an asshole!” The cocky son of bitch just shrugs, and continues to smile at you. “Take. It. Off.”
“No, it’s time for you to get out of bed, and get dressed. You’ll be accompanying me today,” to emphasize his meaning he tugs at the leash. He clicks his tongue, “Come on, be a good girl, and get dressed.”
“No,” while glaring at him, you notice his eyes drift down your front, and you are horrified to see the sheer, too large gown has fallen off your shoulder and your entire breast is out. “You pig.”
“You’re the one showing me. I’d personally prefer you completely naked. Do you know in your sleep you grind your cunt on my thigh.”
“Do. Not.”
“If you say so. Let’s go. Let’s get you dressed,” you can continue to fight him, and you know there is nowhere to go. Your choices are to survive or die. And if he’s going to make things uncomfortable for you, you’ll make things just as uncomfortable for him.
The only thing you have is your body and mind. Standing up out of bed, you look directly at him, and pull off the gown, letting it fall to the floor in a heap while you stand there completely naked. “What dress shall I wear today, Captain.”
His jaw twitches as he clenches his teeth. “Captain? I need you to tell me what I’m to wear today, just for your liking. Please, Captain, won’t you help me?”
“Keep calling me that while you’re naked, and I’ll have you on all fours.”
“Shall I go out on deck dressed like this?” His tongue runs over teeth as he stands. Steve reaches to the corner of the bed, and tosses a new dress towards you. Seeing how he’s been gawking at your tits, you turn around.
“What are you doing?” You peek over your shoulder, holding open the dress, and bend over to step into it. He grunts at the sight of you. The globes of your ass need his fingerprints bruised on them.
Giving him a smirk that he doesn’t notice, you pull up the sleeves, “Steve?” His eyes suddenly flick to yours. You’re the worst kind of trouble. Looking all coy and innocent when he just saw the tiniest bit of your cunt. “Can you lace me up?”
He hesitates before taking the few steps behind you. Grabbing each lace of the dress, he tugs harshly. Grunting with every pull of your laces. Good. You are frustrating him just as much as he is you. Steve finishes, and presses his body flush against yours. He places a hand on your lower stomach, adding pressure to push you into him more.
You let out a whimper when the hard ridge of his thick cock tickles at your backside. “This is your one chance.”
“To what,” his nose guides a trail up your neck, stopping just behind your ear, and he lets out a low and slow breath. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling. And your body lets out a mewling moan without your consent. You should not be reacting to this asshole.
“Your one chance to get me this goddamn hard, and I don’t put my throbbing cock, into your soaking cunt.”
“Not soaked,” his hands circle your tits, and he kneads into the soft skin, “Steve.”
His hands drift lower, roaming over your belly until he cups your core. Too bad this isn’t in polite society and you have several layers of skirts. This dress is only the one layer, and he feels everything. His breathing picks up, and he starts grinding into your body. His hot breath fans over your sticky skin, “Not soaked, huh? Why is this delicious cunt so hot?”
“Steve,” you are weak. As much as you claim to hate him, whatever it is that he does to your body, you truly can’t hate him. And that thought makes you hate him even more. Sure, he might be mildly better than Pierce, but he isn’t James. There is no love involved. This is purely lust and trying to survive him.
“Not soaked? Surprised you can say that with a straight face, and all while you have the most I need to be fucked voice.”
“Why do you want me so much?”
“I don’t need a reason,” he sighs before pushing you away. “If you’re not soaked, why do you have a wet spot stained on your dress?”
You look down your front. Of course his roaming hands would have caused a mess for you. “Why are you breathing so deeply?”
“You’re a tease,” you declare. Not just a tease, he got you all hot and bothered, and then took away his ministrations. Rude. He knows exactly what you’re doing, and you don’t even know what move is coming next.
“You feel all that frustration because you’re wound so tight, and have all this pent up sexual need. Don’t worry. Come come,” he says pulling at your leash. “Let’s let everyone see what a sweet pet you are.”
Ass.
It’s not just enough that he has you parading around the ship while everyone on the crew gawks at you, but he makes sure to keep getting too close to you (by high society standards). Steve constantly pulls your leash into his body, and lets his hand roam over your curves. He ticks his calloused fingers slowly on your ribs, before tracing every inch of your skin regardless of who could be watching.
It is as if he just can’t get enough of your body. That the softness of you is making him focus more. He doesn’t break concentration on what he’s doing, it’s absentminded, and drives you insane. You just want him to look at you as he does this. Make you feel less like an object, and something that he truly desires.
How does he have a conversation with someone while pawing at you? It’s like he is barely even thinking about what his hands are doing. But you don’t like being discarded. Bucky might have made love to you in an alley, but his attention was purely on you. With Steve, his eyes don’t even look at you. It’s just his damn hands. Kneading and groping.
You don’t miss the chuckles and looks as sailors walk past. They know you’re nothing more than a toy to him. You’re not even human or worthy of conversation. You’re just a damn wet rag.
You stew in your anger as he converses with Sam. Pointing out into the distance, and mentioning some pirates’ council. Please. As if these foolish foul men could handle a council. You blow out an angry breath, and cross your arms over your chest. Nothing. Not even a glance. His stupid hand just holds to your leash. His dirty finger rubs over the frayed edges of the rope. The same methodical fingers that recently circled your clit.
You stomp your foot, and face away from him. Nasty ass man. He’s no more than a creature, and should have let you drown. It’s not as if there aren’t whores on this ship for his entertainment.
You’re not turned away from him for five seconds before Steve yanks on the leash, and pulls you completely into his front. His other hand wraps around your waist, and you’re appalled at the whimper that escapes your lips. You don’t want him or his attention. It’s purely survival. “You’re such a fucking tease.”
Finally, attention. “How am I teasing you?”
He dips his head to the shell of your ear, “Do you think it’s easy to do my job, knowing I can’t touch you? Claim you?”
“Are you wanting to claim me in front of your crew?” Looking down, his hand has snaked its way up your stomach, and cups your right breast. He gives the heaving sphere a squeeze before he tugs down your dress. Your chest bulges out of the tightened dress. “Is that what you want? For them to see you being taken right here? Offer your sounds of pleasure to the sea god?”
He eases the material down, exposing your full chest, and you glimpse to the crew. Only a few watch with curiosity. Sam rolls his eyes, and walks away. Steve pinches the pebbled peak. Pulling it outward, and you turn into his neck. Breathing too hard to ever disguise the fact you semi enjoy this. “Is that why you allowed him to fuck your virgin cunt where anyone could see? Do you like knowing people watch this perfect body?”
“No. No, I…” your words drown off as he inhales your scent. His mouth makes trails of heated kisses down your neck. “I…I don’t. I just,” you couldn’t form a coherent thought even if you wanted to. He kicks at your foot, pushing your legs apart, and jerks you towards a thickened sinewed thigh. “Steve.”
“They’ll enjoy watching you. Knowing that you’re getting off, and can’t even see much. They’re waiting to hear the sounds that you make. Are you a screamer?” You shake your head no, and bite on your lip. Why does his thigh feel so good? And why aren't you mortified that people could watch? They could see your breast in his hand. See the way his deft fingers are pinching, pulling, rolling your swollen nipple, and all while you’re rubbing your cunt on his leg.
“I bet you don’t even know the beautiful sounds you could make. And are making right now. You’ve had to be quiet. Did Bucky’s hand hold your mouth, muffling your screams? I couldn’t do that. I want you to openly enjoy yourself. No matter who's watching,” you mewl, arching your back as you lean into him.
“See. You want to be my little slut,” no, you don’t. “You can’t even deny it anymore. Look how you’re performing for me,” you won’t admit that you’re doing anything for him. This is for you. And for survival. You have to remember that. Have to keep in mind that you will do whatever you have to, to break free from him.
“You’re soaking my fucking leg,” you might be. “Even you can’t deny the mess that’s between these beautiful thighs. And I know just what your honey tastes like,” you tilt your head back to heaven, moaning out in pleasure, and not even caring anymore. He’s the one continuing this motion.
“I’m not even holding your hip anymore,” sure he is. There’s no way that you would rub yourself on his leg. “And I’m not waiting anymore. Tonight, I’ll fuck you within an inch of your life. I want to see you ruined at the council,” those words make the damn break, and you shutter. Slowing down your movements, and let your body lean forward on the railing.
“Have I made myself clear, Siren?”
“You can ruin me, but you’ll never have me fully.”
“Keep threatening me, and I’ll fuck a baby in your belly,” he leans over your heaving body. “You won’t be able to go back into society with a bastard will you. And if that sea urchin, Bucky, survives, he’ll never want a used up woman and a mistake to raise,” you won’t cry in front of him. You won’t let him see how much those vile words affect you.
“Natasha,” the woman on his crew perks up an eyebrow as he measures you. “Take her below deck. See to it that she’s cleaned, and changed. I’ll have her on my lap for dinner tonight,” he disregards your leash to her, and you are horrified at the stain on his leg.
“You sure know how to rile that bastard up. Don’t know what you did, but Siren, keep doing it,” you have no idea what she’s talking about. “He’s never been more out of control.”
“He says he’s going to fuck me tonight,” you deadpan. There’s no emotions left in you.
“Let him,” like you have a choice. “Enjoy it because what he wants he will have. But make his cock crave you. Captain Hydra can have whatever cunny he wants. He’s not even had yours, and you’ve made him feral for it. Use that to your advantage. Don’t change what you’re doing.”
“I’m just trying to survive.”
“You are. He was willing to throw his life away to save yours from the ocean,” you gulp as you let that notion sink in. He did jump in after you. He did pull you from your watery grave. He breathed life back into your bones. “He’s harsh. But he normally doesn’t show off his prizes like that.”
“He thinks it’s something I enjoyed.”
“We all heard you,” you blink away embarrassed tears. “You did.”
“I…I’ve only been with one man.”
“And you rubbed your cunt on another. Let that same man drink from you. You'll be fine. Only older men like when a woman is pure, and only has had their cock. And those are the men that think they won’t hold up to another. And they’re right. Don’t stress about it. No one says you have to marry the Captain,” and yet you fear that is what he will eventually want. To own you. To claim you. To have you. And to devour you.
There’s something unsettling about knowing when a man wants to ravish you, and you — you don’t know what you want. Steve isn’t unattractive. Under normal circumstances, you might call him handsome. Apart from the fact that he burned your skin while you slept, and has kept you on a leash all damn day.
Is unsettling even the word that truly encapsulates the way you feel? Because overwhelmed and confused are words that come to mind as well. Especially since he tied your leash to the post of the bed, and that was after he helped you in the sheer oversized nightgown. Modesty went out the window because he’s seen you. He’s tasted you. And now you’re left cowered up at the head of the bed, watching him wash off the grim of the day.
You didn’t know that pirate ships could be as refined as this one. He has his sleeping quarters, and all the amenities that you could think of having here. Privacy, mirrors, a comfortable bed. He notices the mirror just as much as you do. His piercing blue eyes continue to gaze at you through it. Even with his back on you, he can’t stop looking at you.
“Tell me about your home life, Siren,” he never asks you anything. It’s always a command.
“I lived inside the palace walls,” Steve sighs. “And I was to marry Pierce. You know this.”
“I meant before. You didn’t always live inside the wall.”
“No,” you shake your head, smiling. You have fond memories before the palace. “I always dreamed of living in the city,” his brow cocks up. “No girl wants to be a lowly farm girl.”
“There wasn’t some farmhand that you had your eyes on?” You regard him in such an odd way. It’s complicated. It was lonely there. And you sought friendship with whoever was willing.
“There once was a boy.”
“Tell me about him.”
“Why do you care?” The boy, you realize, is someone that you hold very dear to you. You wouldn’t call it love exactly. But you had the ability to explore things. And you had someone to talk to that wasn’t a goat.
He chuckles, and turns around to stare at you. He leans back onto the chest of drawers, and actually stares at your eyes, “I’m getting you comfortable before I fuck you, and ruin you for other men,” you should have known it wasn’t that serious. “Was Bucky the first man you fucked?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a liar.”
“And what makes you say that?”
“Women always lie. There’s always some poor boy that was lower than you that you experiment on,” crossing your arms over your chest, you turn and look away from him. “Any hole that a man’s cock resides in removes your maidenhead.”
You don’t want to look at him. Wiping away a tear from your cheek, you sniffle. “There’s no reason to cry, Siren. Most women experiment with a cock in their mouth. Or in their hands. Playing with it just to watch it grow larger. And what’s a poor boy to do? You think some strapping young lad wants them to stop? Having a dainty hand around you is one of the best feelings in the world. Apart from your cunt.”
“You’re such an ass. You’re making something pure and innocent, disgusting. I meant more to him than being warm flesh.”
“Did you love him?” You shrug. It’s complicated. “Did you use him?”
“No!” You face him, and he thinks you might actually be showing some emotion. “I didn’t — didn’t mean to. I just knew that my father said I would be shipped off to marry some rich man. And my mother told me rich men are always old. Do you think that I wanted to lay with a disgusting old man just after my first bleed? How is that even fair? A man that has gone through countless women. Do you think that he would be gentle?”
“Did Pierce ever…?”
“No,” you answer too quickly, and kindness flashes in his eyes. “It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
“Like you care.”
“What did he do?” His eyes turn dark, and he glares at you.
“He made me stand in a room full of his colleagues. I was wearing a brand new dress that he had commissioned. He asked me to turn around for them, and they all congratulated him on what a fine prize he had, and that I was sure to give him sons,” Steve looks away from you. You have tried countless times to push away that afternoon. It was just after tea. And what a lovely tea it had been. You enjoyed it, and knew you were going to enjoy your life there.
“And then he came up behind me, just to show his size difference. He wrapped his arm around me, and grabbed my chin. I was scared. His grip was too tight, and he had to make note of how much my chest was heaving. They all laughed, and I heard one of them mention how much fuller my tits would be when I was swollen with him. He asked them if they wanted to see what they looked like now. It was like offering meat up to a pack of wild dogs. They were licking their lips, and leaning forward while he cut off my beautiful dress.
“He covered my mouth with his hand, so you couldn’t hear me scream, and he didn’t stop until I was standing there naked. Then he started pinching me, and saying I had the perfect body to carry a son for him. It was humiliating,” recalling that day is so weird. You try not to have emotions because if you did, you’d end up a crying mess. So instead, you disassociate.
“They were supposed to be dignified, and all of them were begging to see my pussy, just to make sure I was a virgin. That was the one thing he didn’t want to show them. He did spin me around and spank my bottom. Jiggled me in front of them. And then shoved me into another room where a lesser dress was waiting. He had it planned. Showing me off like cattle at an auction.”
A heavy silence falls over the room. All but your sniffles. “You haven’t asked me why I didn’t mind you doing that to me today.”
Steve’s eyes look at the floor, and you exhale slowly, “I didn’t expect you to be anything, but cruel.”
“How does Bucky fit in the picture?” He was your safety there. Even that is simplifying things too much. He was an escape. A friend. He was everything.
“He came in the room just as I had put on the dress,” he was going to light a fire for them. He saw me crying, and asked what happened. I just walked out of the room, so he saw me. He lit their fire and saw the rags from the dress, and mumbled how they were all piglet bastards,” you chuckle without any humor. None of that is funny.
“Pierce had him publicly wiped, he was never going to be more than a poor man begging for scraps because of Pierce. Later James told me what had happened in a way to make me comfortable about my situation. Then things started off small, running into each other constantly, until I saw him alone and asked him to do me a favor.”
“What was the favor?” Steve asks eagerly.
“Fuck me like he loved me, so that way I could feel what it felt like for once. I knew eventually Pierce would have me killed. I also didn’t want him to have that part of me. I didn’t get a chance when I still lived on the farm to…never mind.”
“What did you do?”
“Without being too crass, I sucked the farmhand’s dick, and he rubbed his cock between my thighs. My father — he heard us, and threw him out, had me shipped to the palace. Got smacked real good for almost giving away the high price on my maidenhead. That it was the only thing I could ever amount to, and I almost wasted it. I wish I had got to feel him, but at least Bucky let the first time be my choice.”
“Would you still have wanted Bucky?” Such an odd question with an easy answer.
“Yes. I want it all. The ability to choose. Remove the shackles of my womb having a monetary amount for rich men. Fathers selling daughters. Old men fucking girls that are barely women. It’s cruel to not get to choose who you spend the rest of your life with. Shouldn’t love be an option between both people? Or is there always a need to have someone below you just so you can feel powerful when you have no power? When there’s men that are poor that can out perform you any day? It’s all a game to them. All to make sure people are beneath them.”
“And what about me?”
You lick your lips, and pull the nightgown past your shoulders. In the midst of all of this, you had an epiphany, “You have power,” he nods. “And yet you haven’t ever taken mine away,” he tilts his head confused. “You’ve given me choices. You’re cruel and pigheaded, and cross boundaries, but still you haven’t fucked me without my permission.”
You pull at the other side of your nightgown. This would be so much easier if you could stand and take it off, but thanks to the rope and collar around your neck, you shimmy out of it. “I’m giving you permission to fuck me. Captain.”
“Do you understand what you’re saying?”
“Would it matter?” He shrugs. “Or would you make me watch you take another woman just so you didn’t take from me?” He shrugs again.
“I meant after this,” his brow lifts while he examines your body, “Do you understand what you’re giving me?”
“I’m your whore?” he nods. “And I give you permission to have me anytime? And anywhere?” He nods again, and you fall silent. You have to survive. You won’t have a watery grave. And when you survive Steve, you’ll be free. Free to live the life you want. Free of any man that you don’t want in your doorway.
Steve kicks off his boots. Unlacing his pants, he jerks them apart before leaving them to fall in a heap. And then he removes his shirt, and you gawk at his naked form. So many hard lines have been created from the strenuous work of being on a ship. Scars, both fresh and old, decorate his impeccable body. The mark of a thief that had been sliced into his flesh. You’ll ask him about that after you soften him up.
His cock stands at attention and bobs as he takes slow, calculated steps towards the bed. “I give you permission. All of it. I’m yours whenever you want me. However you want me. Take it,” your voice falls on a whisper as his knees hit the bed. “I’m your whore.”
“You’re no whore,” he says as he spreads your legs further apart. He crawls up your body, and leans forward. Letting his cock, shiny with precum rest just between your slit. He rocks his hips upwards, allowing your juices to coat him. He moans, and he hasn’t even entered you.
“But you are mine,” he says, pulling himself just far enough down to push into your walls. “And you’ll take everything I give you,” he juts himself forward, and your back arches off the bed. Head falling back, eyes closed, and mouth open in a silent scream. Looking almost possessed from the harsh angle of your back.
“If only Pierce could see what a beautiful cock ornament you look like now. He’ll never get to feel this,” he pulls himself out slowly. “He’ll never get to know this,” his hips snap, and he crashes into you again. Just like before, his exit is excruciatingly gentle. “Never get to fill this up,” the thrust into you has your eyes going crossed.
“You’re mine,” his whisper is right in your ear, and that is all it takes to have him stabbing into you so ferociously that you can’t even think straight. You can’t comprehend where you are or where he is. It just is. “And nobody will ever touch you again. Will they?”
“No. No! Steve, just…”
“I know what you want,” his hips slam into your body over and over again. The slapping of sticky skin on sticky skin bounds off the walls, and mixes with the whines of pleasure. “Be as loud as you want, Siren. Let them know you’re getting fucked. You won’t have any punishment.”
You wail out his name. Letting the man own you in a way that you could never have allowed James to own you. It’s cruel. You loved — love James. You saw a future with him. Have never felt that way about a man ever before. Never thought that love was going to be in your future. Marriage is nothing but a contract. A formal agreement between a man and a father. Literally buying someone’s daughter as their play thing so each can gain.
It’s all that it ever is. Even though you have a collar and a leash, you feel less shackled and bound with Steve than you did with societal norms. There’s a fear inside the normal upstanding way of living. A fear that a man could kill you for his shortgivings. That a man quite literally owns you and can do with you what he desires, and you have to get with the program.
You’d lived inside the palace walls enough to know that the women did not make the animalistic sounds with their husbands that you are with Steve. The way that his body consumes you is the most hellish way. It’s pure sin. There’s nothing more between you than vulgar yet powerful energy.
There could never be anything more than the basic human need of connection between you and Steve. You acknowledge that, and you bury yourself away in it. There is no amount of pillaging your body that could turn this into more than lust. And that is okay. He is a pirate. Destroying things is what he does. Fucking, treasure, and living in filth.
Beautiful, intoxicating, scream worthy filth.
Steve doesn’t stop even when your body is spent and pliable. He twists you around, and alhough you fall to your belly, he fucks into you with so much vigor that you’re a drooling fool. He can take his fill. You can handle him. Let him trust you. Get comfortable with you. Desire you. And eventually he will need your body to spill into. It’s a dirty tactic of actually being free, but at least there’s a course to set sail to.
There is an eventual liberty on the horizon, and if you have to suffer at the hands of his pleasure, then so you shall.
Something is so satisfying about a man that has no fear of grunting and moaning his pleasure. You’d almost think that Steve is more animal than man with the sounds that he howls into the bedroom. His heated and rushed breaths puffing out as if he’s counting how many times he’s thrusting into your body. He almost sounds tortured.
A fear that he dare not succumb to his own pleasure because then he’d have to pull himself out of you. Let him tire from your quivering walls. Let him know what it’s like to desire nothing more than the feeling of your wet heat. You will then own him. “I’ve been dying to get inside of you since the very first moment we met.”
“Mmm,” is the only intelligible reply you can muster. You’ll be sore, and stumble around on the ship tomorrow. But you don’t have to hide.
“You’re going to be absolutely sick of me,” his voice is shattered. You don’t have a ton of experience in life, but you have always wanted to see a man weak from your body. And you will. One day, you will be the only thing that Steve can ever think about.
The weight of him — oh, there’s worse ways to be held captive. Worse ways to feel, and at least this way you have fulfillment. You’re not laying on your back while Pierce pumps into you twice before dumping his load, and then crawling off to his bed with his whores, while you have to let his seed sprout. No. You won’t ever have to do that again. You’re ruined.
“Fuck,” he pants out. His hips slamming into you with so much force, you know you’ll bruise. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!!!” His warmth shoots so deep into you that you sigh in relief at the feeling, and he scrambles off you quickly.
His softening cocks bobs with every step he takes as he reaches into the basin. He reaches for a damp cloth before walking back to you. Gently Steve spreads your thighs before thoroughly cleaning himself out of you. “What are you doing?”
The way he looks at your swollen pussy gives you pause. It’s not feral, it’s awe. “I was told never to spill in a whore.”
“I’m no whore,” it’s what he said. You weren’t a whore, just his.
“Mmm,” he sighs. Your whimper catches him by surprise. “Thought I had you stretched out enough from my cock, I didn't think a couple fingers would give that reaction.”
“Did you not think my cunt could be sore?”
He nods before leaning back to gaze at your body. Sweaty, naked, and spent. Just the way he likes you. “While you’re not a whore, a ship is nowhere for a baby.”
“Maybe it’s the pirate that isn’t fit for a baby,” you challenge.
“Maybe. But I wouldn’t reduce you to becoming a vessel for my spawn. Have you screaming on this ship as you birth my child. Child birthing can be deadly. You don’t deserve that.”
“Why are you being kind?”
“I am?” He gives a shrug before tossing the rag into the floor, and collapsing on the bed beside you. “Let it be our secret then. And maybe eventually, I won’t release myself before I’m ready. I’m no longer a boy hoping to fuck someone in a barn.”
“Hoping?”
“One’s first sexual experience usually results in coming before one is ready,” so he wasn’t ready to spill. Which means he’ll be ready soon to fuck you again.
“Does everyone have that same experience?” Steve softly smiles at you before using his fingers to close your eyes.
“The only thing you should be worrying about is sleep. I’ll be waking you up in the middle of the night.”
“Just make sure I’m ready. It’s all I ask.” It’s a simple request. You’re not denying him. Just entry if you’re not ready for him to split you open.
“You have my word, Siren. I’ll never fuck you unless you’re properly wet.”
Summary: Dean annoys the fuck out of you most of the time. He’s a pompous fuck boy, and you hate that he also looks as if he was made by the gods himself. But when your mom and his dad didn’t show up to the family dinner, but his friend Carter Baizen did, it makes you wonder if his text for dinner was all a set up. You should not be so attracted and turned on by this type of man, a rich prick. And that is only the beginning of the debauchery. Now, quit being a brat. And don’t be too loud. You’d hate for the neighbors to hear.
Pairings: Dean Di Laurentis X Reader X Carter Baizen
Rating: explicit
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual conten, dirty talk, degradation, cukolding, unprotected sex, PIV sex, cameras, dumbification, spitroast, oral sex (M receiving), DVP, DVP creampie, voyeurism, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 3.7K
Dean Di Laurentis Masterlist
“Yeah,” you sigh, walking into your mom’s new building. She had moved on up to the upper east side. Living in a ridiculous penthouse. Normally you would want to revel in the rich way of life, but then there’s your new stepbrother, Dean Sebastian Kendrick Heyward-Di Laurentis. “I’ll just have family dinner, and head back to campus,” you inform your bestie.
“You mean, you get to stare at your hot new brother?”
“Ugh,” you groan as you step into the elevator. Dean is perfectly beautiful. A face of an angel, and a body of a god. And he also has the personality of a rich asshole. “Please don’t call him my brother.”
“Why?” her voice is teasing over the phone. It’s bad enough you had a filthy and glorious dream with you on your knees in front of Dean, while he had your leash in his hand. It’s like you can’t escape him, even in your dream world. “You just don’t want to think about him being your brother while you’re choking on that cock.”
“I should have never told you that dream.”
“But you did. It means that subconsciously you’re thinking about servicing your brother.”
“Please, stop,” you whine.
“You know there’s this entire subset of porn of step siblings. Is Dean’s dad hot? Maybe you can get a two for one.”
“Eww,” Carolina is almost too crass sometimes. “He’s been inside my mother.”
“Really?”
“One would assume,” this is the last conversation that you want with this topic. You weren’t into stepdads. And you hate that you find your stepbrother attractive. It’s the last thing you want to think about. Especially right before you have dinner with the Hayward-Di Laurentises.
“Hmm, if Daddy D can get it up, I just know that thick, tall, scrumptious, delicious, drool worthy…”
“Carolina!” You laugh as you step into the penthouse. “You don’t have to use so many adjectives to describe him.”
“I didn’t even finish describing him. You don’t have to like him. But you should definitely fuck him,” it’s not like you haven’t thought about it. “You already had a dream. Now you need to know exactly what he tastes like.”
“I don’t need to know what he tastes li-ke,” you stretch the word out as you come face to face with someone just as handsome as Dean. Maybe not as tall. But dripping in just as much wealth as your stepbrother. This category of men all have the same qualities. It’s infuriating.
“He heard you, didn’t he?”
“No.”
The stranger’s eyes drift up and down your body, landing with meeting your smoky gaze before he takes a long sip of amber liquid. Clearly he’d got into your stepdad’s bourbon. “What part of Dean are you needing to taste?”
“Who is that?”
“I don’t know,” you whisper as if he can’t hear you. “Who…who are you?”
“The best friend of your, hmm, stepbrother,” you groan. There’s that title again. Dean is nothing to you. His dad married your mom only a few weeks ago. You don’t even truly know him. You quirk up a brow, he didn’t answer your question. “Carter Edward Hayes Baizen III.”
Do all rich people have these ridiculous names, “Yes, we love naming our children after ourselves. Lots of pretentious bastards. Dean didn’t tell me his sister was quite so stunning.”
“He just called you Dean’s sister! That man is up to no good. Please when Dean gets there, go to Paris, you’ll love it. Enjoy being a slut for the evening.”
“Carolina,” you growl out. “I’ve got to go,” you end with finality. Staring at Carter, you step backwards. The way he watches you looks like a predator stalking its prey. “Where’s Dean?”
Carter just regards you with more intense staring, and you take another step back. Hitting a hard wall of thick, defined muscles. “I see you’ve met, Carter. Carter, this is my stepsister,” he offers Carter your name, and his friend nods towards you in recognition. Dean doesn’t step away from you. His hands grab onto your arms, and he holds you in place. Facing a man that is just as severe as him.
“Are the lovebirds running late?”
“No, they're not coming,” you look behind you, having to peer up at Dean more than you should. He towers over you. You have to tell yourself that he’s just a rich asshole, and has nothing to offer. Well, almost nothing.
“Umm…they canceled?”
“They never were coming, sweetheart,” you look back towards Carter who has stood up. Glass of bourbon still in his hand as he stalks towards you.
“Not interested,” you smile, and try to get out of Dean’s grasp. “Dean?”
“Sis.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why? Is it because you’re having dirty dreams about your brother?” You glare up at Carter through your lashes. He’s taking a guess and doesn’t know anything. You shake your head no. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want to suck my cock, while I pull the leash on your collar tighter,” that’s too specific. You gulp. Refusing to look at Dean. “You don’t want me to tell you how pretty you look when you’re drooling and crying to taste me?”
You look down at the floor, mouth opened. “You look real tense right now, sweetheart,” yeah because either Dean is aware of your dream, or he’s really good at guessing. “Maybe you should let your thick, hot, throbbing stepbrother help you with that.”
“I-I-I’m confused.”
“Carolina?” You look back up at Carter. He oozes confidence and sex appeal. If things weren't in such close quarters and so humiliating, you might enjoy this moment. Just let your eyes close while these two men that have tasted the most expensive alcohol in the world devour you like you’re a dessert from a five star Michelin restaurant. “She’s my sister.”
“No,” there is no way that Carolina and Carter Baizen are siblings.
“Carolina Barker? It’s fake. She’s Carolina Baizen,” bitch. “She also doesn’t keep her voice down when she’s talking on the phone. So, I told dear ole Dean that his sister has a hard on for him. Or should I say you have a hardon for his cock and a leash on you. Interesting that your wet dreams include you down on your knees, and submissive for him.”
“It was just a dream. It doesn’t really mean anything,” Dean’s hand slides up your front. His fingers tickle along your overly sensitive body. It’s all the pent up tension you’ve been carrying. You tell yourself that Dean is an asshole, and it’s simply because you want him too much. And now with his deft fingers exploring your body, you’re on edge. You’re sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. Making you weak, and even more lust filled.
The pads of his fingers tickle over your collarbone. Sliding back and forth over your heated skin before circling your neck, and you mewl. Every nerve ending in your body ignites with the intense heat from his touch. Your chest heaves with how heavy your breathing is, and both men chuckle at the sight of your trembling body.
“You sure it doesn’t mean anything?” Carter cocks a brow, and Dean pushes your head to the side before his mouth attaches to your neck. He nips and sucks at the delicate column. “Judging by the way your brows are furrowing, and your ass is backing up on him, that dream meant everything.”
You come to, and focus on every part of your body that Dean touches. A hand wanders to your breast, and he gropes you. Kneading each breast, and then focusing on your pebbling nipples that your thin bra can’t hide. He pinches the tender peaks. Your ass pushes back into him, and you yip when his pulsing cock presses against you.
Your senses are both heightened and blinded by overwhelming pleasure. The consuming ministrations of Dean, and the random filtered words from Carter. Is it too much to ask for a girl to just throw caution to the wind, and tell a man, or men in this case, to just have full control of your body. You don’t know Dean or Carter, but you know Dean enough to know that he’s not going to actually hurt you.
You have read you should let someone you trust have that much control of your body, but the heady atmosphere right now seems trusting enough. Dean desperately pulls at the top of your dress, exposing your tits to both men. Both his hands grip tightly to your breasts. He chuckles on your neck.
“She’s a desperate little thing,” Carter’s low register fills the vast living room of the penthouse. Not much takes up the space, but your labored breathing. “Watch her trying to grind her greedy little cunt on your thigh.”
That’s what that feeling was? Your body is seeking friction on his sinewed leg. You rub your core up and down his pants. Up and down. Baring down harder with every pass. Rocking into him in a way you want him to fuck into you. It’s not enough. And you throw caution into the wind. It’s a need to have him.
“I know he’s watching us, I hope he likes what he sees, sis.”
“It’d be better if you were both naked.”
“Mhmm,” you nod your head with frenzy. A wild woman possessed, and the only thing that will free you from this erratic behavior is Dean’s cock. And then Carter’s. “My-my room.”
“Why yours?” Dean asks, already steering you towards the room that you rarely stay in. Stay in enough to have things set up just the way you like it.
“I like watching me being fucked later.”
“Excuse me?” Carter lifts your chin up, and gazes into your lust filled eyes. Pupils dilated and glazed over. “What do you have in your room, sweetheart?”
“Cameras. I like watching someone using my body. Fuck,” your mouth is dry, thinking is already hard. That’s what you like. All the noise and nonsense in your head to stop. “Fucking me how they like.”
“No one else sees it?” Dean asks as his hand buries into your front. “No panties?” You always have to hope something will happen. You have to be prepared for any moment that Dean looks under the table, or wants a quickie. Fine. You want this man to fucking own you in the bedroom. “You’re soaked.”
“No one else. Just me.”
“And now us,” Carter snaps his fingers, heading down the hallway. Dean spins your body around, and lifts you up. Placing your front to his front. You seek so much friction. So much pressure. You want to be stretched out, filled up from your pussy to your mouth.
“God, you little fucking slut. Carter,” Dean motions for the man to watch. They both stare lock jawed at you helplessly grinding on him. Scratching an itch that won’t go away unless your cunt can feel him. Them.
“Hit the — hit the switch,” Carter flips it up, and you nod, “It’s recording,” Dean tosses you onto the bed, and you scramble trying to get this damned dress off. Dean nearly trips over his jeans, attempting to free himself. Tugging at his shirt before he pounces on the bed.
Carter takes a seat in the corner chair. Leaning back with an obnoxious and uncomfortable looking bulge in his jeans. Front seat to the show, “How bad do you want your brother?”
“Stepbrother,” you remind him.
“You think mom and dad are going to catch you being a total slut for me?”
“Us,” Carter interjects. “I like to watch him fuck. Especially fucking you. He’s been dreaming of it. Telling me about his hot as fuck slutty stepsister,” you smile over at Carter, but that smile disappears. Dean impales you in one swift motion. You whimper out his name. Back arching, and eyes clenching close.
“I couldn’t wait to get in this tight little cunt,” he grunts out.
He fills you up magnificently. You have to spread your thighs so far apart to not only accommodate his vast size, but the spectacular girth of his glorious cock. A cock that should be put in museums for just how perfectly he fits inside you.
He drags himself out of you slowly. Allowing you to finally take in the ridges that decorate his dick. Soaking up every second of this. A moment you have envisioned every single time you were around him.
Your fingers scratch down the length of his back as you try to ground yourself. You don’t want to go dumb just yet. Save that for when both of them have you. You want to remember every second and every inch of him.
Dean hisses as your nails dig into him, creating the most beautiful trails on his silky skin. Carter’s blue eyes go darker with his pinged out pupils. He adjusts himself, settling back further into the chair. “Nothing like the love of step siblings. How does she feel, Dean?”
“So perfect,” he whispers into your ear. You whine when his cock pulls completely out of his body. Wiggling, you try to reach him. Force him back into you. It is a need. “She’s drenched. Such a desperate little slut, huh? You need me back in you so bad?” You nod your head enthusiastically.
“Dean?”
“Beg.”
“Absolutely not,” his hips snap forward, and the pornographic moan that echoes into your room has Carter’s eyes going half mast. He could almost come just by watching Dean torture you. It's the best way to break dumb puck bunnies. He saw you teasing Dean by rubbing up on Jake Connelly. Flirting with any man that would give you attention at that game. And all because you thought, you couldn’t have your stepbrother. Dean’s just as much as a slut for you as you clearly are for him. And if you want to be a slut, he’ll watch you be treated like one.
“You know what’s funny about our situation, sis?” Asshole. You roll your eyes. He should get the commentary over with, and just fuck you senseless. “It’s funny because you think you hate me. But you wanna know the truth?”
“What truth, asshole?”
“The truth is you really hate yourself because you like it. You like it so much you need my cock inside of you just as much as you need air to breathe,” he rolls his hips into you at a rapid pace. Pulling out of you, and slamming himself back into you. Laughing with how every thrust you become even more pliable for him.
Too abruptly he pulls out of you, and you sigh at the loss of him. It just feels so wrong. Wrong to not have him tucked into you. He flips you over, wraps his arm around you, and pulls you up to your knees. He gives a light, but demanding shove between your shoulder blades, and your arms spread out across the bed.
Carter inhales deeply as he stands. He walks behind you, and gazes at the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. “She is dripping down her thighs,” his voice cracks. “She is needy for it, Dean. You think she’s ready?”
“Not quite. Let me stretch her out more,” he grips tight to both of your hips, and crashes into you. Sending your body lurching forward, and you squeal. Fingers gripping the sheets. He slams into you with a heated fervor that makes you arch more. Taking him so deeply that you almost feel him in your throat.
Every drill into you feels deeper. Harder. Fuller.
Carter lifts your chin up again, smirking at your ruined face, “Dean, she’s got tears in her eyes. Aer you fucking her too hard?”
“No! No! Harder!” His hips piston into you with such a speed your toes and fingers go numb.
“Oh, you are a pretty slut. But I think you talk too much?” You look up at him, completely and utterly wrecked. “You can take more. And you will,” you don’t know how long Carter has been naked, but when he pushes his cock into your face, you take ravenously. Letting him slip in between your pouty lips, and allowing the two men to take.
Fucking into you in tandem. Giving and taking. When one pulls out, the other is shoving in. Having you in the most delicious spit roast known to man. Gurgling sounds from your mouth compliment the squelching sounds from your cunt. The two men could break you in half, and you wouldn’t even care at this point. So much pleasure courses through your veins.
“She’s ready.”
“No, she’s not.”
“Di Laurentis, you keep going, and you’re going to come inside her. She’s ready.”
“She’s so fucking tight though,” Carter groans, rolling his eyes when he unplugs himself from you.
“You want to look at her face, or want me to?”
“Oh, she’s my sister, I’m looking at her face,” Dean collapses on the bed, and starts to pull you over his body, “Come on, sit on my cock, and get comfortable.”
“What are you doing?” you ask, but follow his lead. Allowing him to settle over him, and immediately you start grinding on his cock. “Mmmm.”
“So we’re going to let Carter join in, okay?” You tilt your head to the side, Carter has been joining in. “He’s going to get behind you, and you’re going to be a good girl, and let him push into your cunt, too.”
“Won’t it hurt?” Carter spits on his hand, and slowly starts stroking his throbbing cock. He takes slow tentative steps behind you. Giving you enough space to realize what is happening, while also giving you time to say no. You don’t want to. You have a morbid curiosity to know just what two cocks in your cunt feels like.
“A bit. But you can take it. He’s going to make himself fit, and then once you come back to me, we’re going to fuck you at the same time, okay?”
“Okay,” you whisper, nodding your head as you take a peek back at Carter. He’s not as large as Dean. A little bit shorter, a little slimmer, not as ripped, but his cock is just as commanding. You give a whimper as he crawls behind you, and leans you forward.
Dean’s strong arms wrap around you, and you have never felt so at peace. The gentle squeeze soothing you as Carter’s blunt head pushes past the tight fit, “Shhh, relax,” he coos in your ear, and you soften more. “You can do this. You were made to be our slut.”
“Uh huh,” you reassure yourself, and Carter eases in another inch. “It’s tight.”
“We like it tight, sweetheart,” Carter groans behind you. Another inch, and a high, so intense races through your body. It’s like your body knows that you are meant to take both of them. To have both of them. To accommodate both of them without any complaint.
He keeps a steady but quicker pace as he pushes through. Continuing his exploration until he is balls deep, and a prayer of pleasure from your lips screams into the bedroom. Head thrown back. It’s too much, “Thatta girl,” Dean praises. “That’s my good fucking girl.”
That’s all you want to be. Stepbrother be damned. This man, and Carter are yours. Nobody could handle them the way you do. Like they promised, they wait. Letting your body get accustomed to the girth of the both of them. Their hands paint trails over your sticky skin, and you relax even more. Letting your weight fully fall onto Dean.
The look on his face is pure adoration. Staring at you like you’re the most wonderful human in the world. That there will never be someone as amazing as you. You could get used to this. Used to being worshiped by sex gods themselves.
You start moaning in ecstasy before you ever realizing they’re fucking into you. You just exist. There isn’t a moment when you realize where you are. Because this is heaven. You don’t know where you start and where they begin. Where Carter is or where Dean is. You just are. Present for the most toe curling, euphoric moment of your life.
You don’t even know that you’re screaming. Don’t even realize that your body is quivering from the untethered elation that consumes you. They are your drug. The cause of every moment of bliss and every delirious frenzy. They are you, and you are them.
Dean’s breath fans across your face as he pets along your face, “You look beautiful when you’re dumb on cock. Can you come with us?”
“Yes,” you meekly respond. Your body is wound so tight, you don’t know how you don’t explode from the mere sound of his voice.
His baby blues peer up at you completely enthralled by the trance you're in. This is paradise. This is everything. “Come,” and everything falls down. Your body tenses up with rapture, and heat swells in your belly. You can’t even catch your breath because the fullness that resides inside of you has you overcome with reverie.
“Oh my god!”
“We are your gods now,” Carter says, pumping his load so deep in with Dean’s, if you weren’t on birth control, you know their seed would mix, and make the perfect baby of the three of you. That’s how close you are.
Carter pulls out of you first, and falls to the bed. But Dean — Dean drowns in your come down. He holds you through your orgasm. Letting cum leak out of you, and then without warning, he slams his mouth into yours. Swallowing every weak whimper off your lips.
“Guess we’re skipping the no kissing part,” Carter watches the two of you, and then turns towards the door. A dark figure creates a shadow, one you never thought would see you be taken and owned by your stepbrother, “You’re late, Drysdale.”
“I was exactly where I wanted to be. Now move, so I can fuck that cum back into my girlfriend,” you have always had a thing for rich pricks.
Summary: You've known the rich prick your entire life. He's been the bane of your existence since before you can remember. But when your parents cut you off, and you have to make your own way your best option is to become a housekeeper. It's great hours, and even better pay. That is until Dean propositions you with something you can't turn down, becoming his sexy housekeeper. And he's keeping you busy in more ways than one. Who knew hating someone could make all the things so much more intense?
Pairings: Dean Di Laurentis X Reader
Rating: explicit
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, teasing, proposition to pay for sex, objectifying, minor chase kink, unprotected sex, PIV sex, degradation, dumbification, creampie, voyeurism, dubcon elements, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 3.1K
Dean Di Laurentis Masterlist
How far would you go for money? And what will you allow yourself to do to get that money? They’re simple enough questions, right? Some people don’t want to lower their standards to work in fast food. Some people don’t want to go insane working with children. Others can’t stand the thought of them selling illegal substances. But haven’t we all been in a position to wonder what it would be like if we did?
Becoming a housekeeper isn’t exactly how you saw your life going. You once upon a time had it all. Rich parents that promised you the world just because of the family you were born into. Unfortunately those promises came with stipulations and rules. One of the rules was to become a lawyer.
Do people realize just how hard that is? Or how hard it is when it’s something you don’t love or even remotely enjoy? Classes were beyond boring. It was a struggle just to stay awake, and then when you tried, it was just mumbo jumbo that you didn’t have interest in. So instead of flunking out, you dropped out and changed your major. But of course, journalism isn’t acceptable.
And you’re too stubborn for your own good. It isn’t just about proving to them that you’re going to do what you’re going to do, but also proving to yourself that you can. And you will.
Unfortunately this is why you’re here. Staring at that prick with your mouth wide open. “Around here you should close your mouth before someone sticks something in it,” all that pretty boy ever cares about is getting laid.
“I’m denying this job,” you spin on your heels, but Dean jumps up from the couch, and runs to the door, blocking you in. “Move.”
“No, I shouldn’t have said that,” not only did you not know that he lived here, but you know he doesn’t live here alone. And yet here he is. Alone. And this is a not great predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.
“Who gave you my number?”
“Fitzy.”
“Traitor,” you will leave rotten meat in his garbage can for this. “What do you want, Dean?”
“Isn’t it obvious? For you to clean my house,” you sigh before turning back into the house. “Great. I’m glad we came to an agreement.”
“The only agreement that we have is that I’m cleaning your house, and you tip me well.”
“Oh, of course, I’ll make sure to tip you very well, princess.”
“And don’t call me that,” you make sure to scream at him. The bedrooms are always first. These nasty boys need their nasty sheets washed. You want to vomit in your mouth because you can almost be sure what is about to happen.
You hate it here. Hate all these pompous assholes. They think they’re gods at this school. Untouchable. And that everybody loves them. You could give two shits about them. They’re arrogant and pointless. It’s a fucking game that praises fighting. And sweaty peak male physique. It’s enough to make you gag. Maybe not the sweaty male physique part, but this is getting way off course and sending your mind into lustful thoughts that you don’t need right now.
“I have a proposition for you,” Dean smiles, and leans his large stature against the frame of the door. He crosses his arms across his chest, and you look away from his chest immediately. Yeah. Peak male physique right there.
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard it. Plus, if you follow through, I can guarantee that I will pay you more for one day than you make in a month,” you stop staring at the mess that’s in his corner, and look into his crystal blue eyes. You can listen. You don’t have to agree. One day of humility couldn’t be that bad, right?
“We’re alone,” you stand up straighter, looking at the window. The fall to the ground would hurt, but it would feel better than whatever he’s thinking. “Please, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just saying, we’re alone and nobody has to know.”
“Are you paying me for sex, Di Laurentis?”
“Not exactly,” that makes zero sense. “I don’t pay for sex. But I do enjoy a show,” unsure of what he’s getting at, you watch him step into his room, and open up a drawer. He reaches in and pulls out a cheaply made maid costume, and you look at him gawking.
“This is my study hour, and I like — pretty things.”
“Stare at yourself in the mirror.”
“Aww, I’m glad you think I’m pretty. No, I want you to wear this, and do our cleaning, so I have a distraction,” the costume is barely even there. Your tits and ass would be hanging out everywhere.
“Distractions from studying sound like a disaster,” Dean stands straight quietly. Those baby blues look extra shiny, and you swear he’s pouting. Men pouting should not be a thing that makes you fold. And yet, it is, “How much?”
“What do you make in a month?”
“Five thousand.”
“I’ll give you six,” you narrow your eyes at him, “Thousand.”
“I’m just wearing that, and you’re looking?”
“I’ll give you a very thick tip if you put on a show for me,” you cock up your brow. “Bend over in front of me. Pick up things that I drop in a sexy way. You know. Sexy,” stepping forward you yank the costume out of his hand, and he gives you the biggest grin.
“Nobody knows about this.”
“Of course not.”
“And I want payment before I ever step foot in this house. If you don’t pay on your scheduled day, I assume you don’t want me to clean and put on a show for you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of not paying you, Princess,” you’re going to ignore it for now. You just want to do what you’re getting paid for. Get in, and then get out. Bend over, and let him see your performance. Shimmy your tits in his face, and remember it’s great money. And soon, you won’t have to put yourself into this position ever again.
——
He follows you around everywhere. This man that can get whatever woman he wants, and you know for a fact that he is drowning in pussy has taken a seat in wherever you are. This has got to be the most bored out of his mind he has ever been, and yet, he doesn’t stray from you.
His eyes trace every curve of your body. His mouth lags open, and his tongue traces his teeth, “You’re distracting.”
“I’m just watching.”
“You’re…you know what you’re doing, Di Laurentis.”
“Fucking you with my eyes?” You let out an air of exasperation before leaving the room. And just like always, that man is right on you, following your every move. “Is it so wrong to fantasize about a beautiful woman?”
“You hired me.”
“I’ll pay you double to clean topless.”
“What?” This is absurd.
“Triple if you let me taste you. By the time I’m finished with you, you won’t even want money.”
“You’re tongue isn’t that good,” he’s so fucking arrogant. Moronic to think you’d — well you do want to see what all the fuss is about, but it’s also the principle of not giving him what he wants. He’s an asshole. Even if none of his hookups have anything bad to say about him. He’s a man whore.
“I’ve had plenty of practice, and well, I don’t need to pay. But you’re kind of like the one thing I can’t have. Plus this fantasy you’re providing, it’s extremely hot.”
There’s a part of you that wants to give in. Wants to have fun for a change. And then there’s the part of you that enjoys his torture. You are actually the one in control. He’s begging for just a taste, while offering money, and you could say no. That amount of power is intoxicating. Almost as much as his manly scent.
The way his giant stature as he looms in the doorways, taking up so much space with that perfect body. His roaming eyes should be a turn off, and yet it’s giving your ego a boost because THE campus whore is begging for just a taste. Most women throw themselves at him. But he wants you.
“What exactly is your fantasy?” You give him a softened look. Men love when you go all doe eyed and look submissive for them. Dean isn’t any different. You can see his pulse throbbing on his neck. No doubt the same pulse is going right to his groin. “Do you see me getting trapped, and you take advantage of me?”
“Only if you would like that.”
“Or is it because I could be your dirty little secret. I could come here, clean up your mess of a fucking house, let my panties get smaller each time until you’re practically seeing my pussy lips. Crawl on my knees while I service your floors. Let you see my tits spill out of this cheap costume, and my cunt leak on my legs.”
“Yep. That’s the one,” he admits with an excited defeat. Dean admitting that he has been envisioning you being nothing more than an object of desire that he wants to devour is making you feel too god.
“So that’s all this is? A sexy secret?”
“Princess, the way I will have you screaming, it won’t stay a secret long,” you gulp. You hate this man. He hates you. And there is something so enticing about knowing just how much he hates you based on the thrust of his hips.
“No one knows.”
“Of course they won’t,” he gives you a cocky smile, seeing your resolve and giving into him.
“And you still pay me.”
“Fine.”
“And I want you to show me how much you hate me, and hate paying for sex,” you look up at him through your lashes as you start to back out of Logan’s room. He’s an athlete, he can handle this. His muscles tense as you step away. “But first you have to catch me. And wherever you catch me, you have to fuck me there. And…GO!”
You spin around, and run directly to the stairs. He doesn’t follow quickly. Even that pisses you off. He’s giving you a headstart, knowing that he will catch up to you quickly. It’s insulting. Invigorating. And maybe you should have thought about payment better. If you get away, he still has to pay.
Ideas of how you can do this better next time run all through your mind. To the point you don’t even realize how hypocritical you sound for even thinking of about a next time. How dare you entertain this. Maybe let’s see how this time works out.
You get down into the living room, and smile as he jumps over the railing of the stairs, and lands just in front of you. His muscled legs look even thicker since he’s just wearing boxer briefs now, and it hides nothing. That’s what took him so long. Getting nearly naked. Bastard has no reason to look like he was carved by the gods. “That’s cheating.”
How are you supposed to think clearly when all you see is the hard lines of Dean’s muscles. The way each movement causes his body to ripple. It’s mesmerizing. A little siren call that leaves you stupid.
“I don’t think this is cheating. You giving up so easily?” You shake your head no, running to the other side of the couch, and he’s still just right there. “I don’t think you realize how much I like this.”
“Chasing?”
“Uh huh,” physically chasing or figuratively, who is to know. You do know you’ve never given into this man until the prospect of money was put on the table. But even you have to admit this sexy game of tag could have lasted longer.
“What are you going to do, Dean?” A smile turns one side of his mouth up. It’s unsettling and ignites heat throughout your body. Heath rushes to your center at just the glimpse of his dimples.
“You called me Dean,” so you did. He launches himself over the couch, and grabs a hold of your arm. Dean tugs you onto the couch, and places you on your knees. His body positions behind you, and his thick and heavy cock touches your backside. A whimper escapes your mouth before you can even stop it.
His thick hands go to the back of your costume, and he rips the cheap zipper apart, and slides his hands around you. Cupping your tits, while his body desperately searches for friction. Hunching on you like a teenage boy, and you are aching, “Dean.”
“Needy little thing, huh? Mmm, I feel your heat through these flimsy panties.”
“Fuck me,” he growls, but a hand removes from your breasts, and he tugs down your panties. “Dean!”
“Impatient little slut,” he can’t even remove his boxer briefs fully before his blunt head finds your entrance. You push back on him, willing him to just enter you, but he takes his time to spit down on himself. A long line of saliva drips to his tip, coating the blunt end. He tickles the crown along your quivering cunt.
Dean pumps his cock a few times before his hips pitch forward, and your head drops to the armrest of the couch and an animalistic moan reverberates through the house.
His cocks fill you up so fully that you can’t even see straight. You can barely breathe, you understand the hype. “Is that what you wanted? You wanted me to stretch you open so wide that I took your breath away?”
“Yes,” you manage to huff out. Your fingers curl into the fabric of the couch, grounding yourself as much as possible. You cling to the material like a life form. You don’t want to forget any of this.
“Princess, I haven’t even started fucking you, and you’ve gone stupid. This is going to be so fun,” he grips onto your hips with both hands. “Hold on,” and he stabs into you over and over again. Hips pistoning in you at such a speed that you lose feeling in your legs. The only thing you feel is Dean. The only thing that even fucking matters is Dean.
His thrusts are so angry and heated that it takes everything in you to be more than a drooling mess. Walls gripping tight to him, and you just let him use you for his pleasure. Because whatever the fuck he is doing, it is working for you as well.
“This pussy is so greedy it doesn’t even want me to pull out. Whose slut are you?”
“Yours.”
“Who makes you feel this good?”
“You,” it took no effort to make you fall. But when you are a literal sex god like Dean, what more effort is needed. It’s just sex. It means nothing more than this moment.
“You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you, huh?”
“Yes,” you meekly say. Truly it didn’t matter what Dean wanted to do to you. As long as he keeps doing it and keeps it a secret. You’d let him own your body. If he continues doing this, well he already does own your body.
He fucks into you so deeply that your toes curl. Why had you denied this for so long? Why had you denied this actual tingling pleasure? No money in the world could equate to just how good you feel. Not one ounce. “Are you our little play toy?”
“God, please, yes.”
“Such a polite little slut. It’s our dirty little secret, hmm?”
“Yes,” you can’t even tell if you said that. But you feel it. You feel everything. The elated pleasure that courses through your blood and carries itself throughout your entire body. College boys couldn’t fuck like Dean Hayward Di Laurentis. It was all about their pleasure. About getting off quickly. Dean fucks you in a way to destroy you for other men.
“And then with practice,” he says, reaching around your waist, he rubs tight circles on your clit. And your vision blacks out. A high so vast that colors and sounds blend together to make an entire new existence. And with that, you would beg for him to make you feel this way again. You would plead and give anything, do anything to reach this point of elation.
Heat blossoms inside you as Dean releases into your body. His chest heaves with exertion, and he pulls apart your ass cheeks. Watching as his spend trickles out of your body.
He lifts up your chin, and gives the sweetest peck to your lips. Your blurry vision clears to see his rich brown eyes, “With practice, you’ll be able to take all of us at once.”
“What?” You gulp, realizing Tucker holds your chin in his hand. Looking up to see Logan and Garrett, staring. Watching Dean pull himself out of you.
“You get a ribbon,” Logan nods, and tosses a thin pink ribbon to Dean. Dean takes the dainty fabric, and ties it around his arm. You might not know it, but now he’s claimed to you. Only to you. And now everyone else that matters will know. “You can’t have him again, until you have one of us.”
“What the fuck is going on,” you pull up your panties, arms circling your chest as you look between the four of them. How long had they been here? Did all of them watch you become a stupid fuck bunny to Dean?
“You did say you’d let me do whatever I wanted to you. Well, you belong to us now. Those are the rules. We’ll take care of you,” you don’t quite understand as you look amongst the four of them. “It’s just us four. Don’t worry. Some brotherhoods have thirty-one. And with practice, I’m sure your body can do amazing things for us.”
“I didn’t ask…”
“You didn’t have to. It’s just how it is,” Tucker assures you. “Dean’s tapped out for other women now. So, if we make this quick, he won’t be a desperate man fucking a pillow, yeah?”
You’re not quite sure you understand what is going on now. But four of them? And those four? It’s a challenge you’ll happily take on. “It’s our dirty little secret?” And they all nod at you.
Summary: Dean has noticed you for months. Seen how you give everything to everyone else, and leave yourself with nothing. It's always the same excuse, you're a mom. You just got out of a bad breakup. You can't commit. All he wants is one night anyways. It's your ex's weekend, and you need to relax. Good thing he knows exactly what it is you need, and he's going to make sure he gives it to you, no matter what.
Pairings: Dean Di Laurentis X Reader
Rating: explicit
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, teasing, mentions of mommy kink and mask kink, safe word, cuffs, unprotected sex, oral sex (F receiving), PIV sex, choking, creampie, accidental pregnancy, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 3.8K
Dean Di Laurentis Masterlist
“Hey, little man,” Dean gives a head wave to the little boy sitting in the hallway of the apartment complex. “Where’s your mom?”
“She’s almost home,” Dean’s eyes narrow, and he looks back down the hallway. “Dad dropped me off early. I don’t have a key.”
“You want some gum?” Dean didn’t know much about your ex, but you didn’t seem to complain about him often. Maybe it was an honest mistake, or he didn’t have another option. It still doesn’t sit well with him.
“You want to quit checking out my mom?”
Dean grins cheekily before he sits on the opposite side of the hallway, so it truly was that obvious. You weren’t his usual type, and that’s what made you more attractive. Accomplished, had a job, had a child and an ex that he feels is a loser. What idiot just drops his kid off early when he doesn’t have a key? And what idiot leaves you?
“I’ll take a piece of gum,” the boy’s neighbor tosses him a piece, and leans his head back on the wall. He could completely make a move. Keep things casual. It’s what he prefers anyways. The kid didn’t have to know at all. “Who chews cinnamon gum?”
“Clearly I do. You want to come inside to wait on your mom?”
“Are you a weirdo that’s going to murder me and then eat my flesh for dinner?”
“You’re messed up,” the kid shrugs. “Is this a, you’re not supposed to talk to strangers, thing?”
“Yup,” an odd silence stretches between them, and Dean nervously glances around. The kid said you were almost home, and yet here he sits in an awkward quietness, but doesn’t want to leave him alone.
“You play hockey?”
“Yup.”
“I saw your bag,” Dean nods. This would be so much easier if he didn’t have to interact with the child. He shouldn’t even bother himself with this at all. It’s treading into off limits territory. Keep it sexy, keep it simple, and keep it kinky as fuck.
“My mom hasn’t been divorced long enough.”
“Okay,” he doesn’t want a relationship anyways. You’re stressed. Clearly since you have an asshole of an ex that leaves his kid stranded. What if he were a masked murderer? Masks. He needs to jot that down. He heard a few girls in class mentioning it. You look like the type to be into masks.
No, all Dean wants is for you to have someone to take your frustrations out on. It’s what every woman deserves. He can’t service everyone, but you’re right there. Right across the hallway. He always has heard that older and more experienced women are the best. It’s something he wants, no needs, to try out.
And why can’t it be him? It’s easy access, and he can’t commit to anything long term anyways. It’s not what you need either. He could be that man for you. And he’s not stupid, you’ve been checking him out just as much as he has been you.
“My mom doesn’t like hockey.”
“Okay.”
“But she knew you played,” he knew it. You’ve talked about him with your spawn. He’s halfway in. “My dad took me to a hockey game.”
“To Briar U?”
“The Bruins. This is not a fun conversation.”
“Yeah, but I would look like a weirdo if your mom got here, and we’re playing video games,” his eyes brighten up, but Dean shakes his head. “This is the safe territory.”
“If I can’t go into your apartment then you can’t come into mine.”
“It’s your mom’s though,” Dean winks at the kid before looking at his phone at the time. He wouldn’t just be coming into the apartment he’s going to be coming into…
“Easton, I’m so sorry, baby,” both your son and the ridiculously too pretty neighbor sit in the hallway. Embarrassment floods your face at the man having to watch Easton. “I didn’t know your dad needed to drop you off sooner. Di Laurentis,” he smiles up at you, and you look back towards your son. You can’t see that man smile like that. “Easton, go on inside and do your homework,” your son sighs, but stands up as you unlock the door.
You can see Easton eyeing you carefully as he walks into the door. He’s a smart kid. But you’re a single woman, and you’re just looking at the man. He’s way too young for you, and completely out of your league, but you can’t help the fantasies that plague your mind. Every time that you need to have some release, Dean is always your object of desire.
“Nick had something to do. And I didn’t even know he was dropping Easton off until after the fact, and I — I rushed here as soon as I could.”
“He was fine. He doesn’t like cinnamon gum,” you smile, looking him up and down. There truly isn’t a point in denying it, he’s attractive. And he’s very much aware of his sex appeal. “So…?”
“I should probably get started on a snack for him.”
“Moms need snacks, too,” biting at your lip, you look away from him. You hope with everything in you that he doesn’t know that there’s heat flaming your cheeks. That your tummy gets all fluttery, and a deep throb centers itself right to your core.
“Mom gets plenty of snacks.”
The boyish smile that perks his face up makes you go completely blind with giddiness. This young man has the most adorable and still sexy dimples you have ever seen. “Mom is getting snacks she makes herself. Why doesn’t she let someone make a snack with her.”
“I’m not into mommy kinks, Di Laurentis,” you start to turn on your heels. This conversation is getting too heated. You don’t have time for anything serious. You don’t even want anything serious. But you also wouldn’t mind that man bending you backwards, forwards, inside out, or turning you completely sideways. He’s too young. He isn’t responsible enough for you. Even if you don’t need him to be or that it even matters.
“I’m not into that kink either. I’m more into cuffs,” you stop your movement. Keeping your back to him as heat floods into your sex. You inhale deeply as Dean steps up behind you. “I don’t want anything outside of sex. But I do a really good job of turning brains off.”
“Dean,” you whimper, and take a quick look behind you. What you want to do is be quick so you can retreat from this conversation. It’s too much, and you have to walk inside and be a mom. “We can’t.”
“Maybe not today. Trust me, your son doesn’t need to be here when I tear down every one of your walls, and fuck you so hard and so deep that you become nothing more than a brain dead fuck toy. Feeling nothing but pleasure. Finally at peace.”
“I have to go be a mom.”
“He’ll get him again next weekend,” his smile stretches further across his face, and he winks. How does this man look so innocent while saying all of that? “You know where to find me if you want me to put leather cuffs on those pretty wrists. Suspend you to the bed, and let me have some fun.”
”And what about me?” He keeps his hands firmly away from your body, and you just want to scream at him to take you right here and right now. But this isn’t a fantasy, and your son is just inside.
Dean chews on his lip, and gets too close to your body, and yet it’s not close enough. His body is just as hot as yours, and he crowds your senses. The tension in the air is beyond visible. You and Dean have skirted around the smiles, the flirting comments, the lingering looks, and now it’s being presented to you on a platter.
You are a sexual being with a very high drive. And this man looks like his stamina is that of a cheetah. Sex on legs, and every woman’s wet dream. You’re single. You don’t always have your son with you, in fact you and your ex have fifty/fifty custody. You have the time and ability to fuck him. And you want to, which is why you also want to deny him.
“I should go.”
“I promise, you’ll enjoy yourself,” you give him a nod, and reach towards the handle of your door, “Just want to let you know, every time I see you, I can’t help but see myself inside you.”
“And just so you know,” you begin to twist the handle, “Every time I fuck myself, I see you inside me, too,” you glimpse at him for only a minute to see his eyes dilate as he envisions what exactly it is that you do when you’re alone.
You hope that he is trying to figure out all the ways that you play with yourself. If he wonders if you fuck your fingers or fuck a dildo. If you only use a vibrator, if you fuck your pillow. You hope that he sees you in every scenario because it’s exactly what you’re doing.
“I’ll see you in a few days?” You flirt. Give him some hope. And yourself, too. Plus, one night wouldn’t hurt anyone. Remembering his filthy thirst trap of a video from social media. Hot man with his friends talking about the pros and cons of a mask, you get the best idea, “I do like masks. I’ll leave the door unlocked. Lock it when you come in. Bring the cuffs.”
Dean exhales. It is happening. You don’t just want him. You want the mask. You want the leather cuffs. You want to be tied up. You want him to fuck you dumb. And he aims to please.
Everything is almost too quiet in your apartment. An unsettling stillness blankets over the entire space. But one thing that increases, is the sound of your breathing as he takes every step closer to your bedroom. The darkness surrounds his body as he inches closer to the sound.
He didn’t confirm that he would tiptoe into your space. He didn’t tell you that he forgot the mask. It just means he’s going to have to do this again. And again. And hopefully again.
Sweet thing, you even left your bedroom door open. Laying in your comfortably sexy pajamas. Sprawled out and just waiting for him. He has envisioned this moment since the first time he saw you. A woman who is aching to be destroyed, and owned in the best way possible.
It’s obvious your ex wasn’t taking care of you. You don’t need an older man, you need someone younger to keep up with your sexual drive. And he can, and not just that, he will wear you out. His eyes drift down your body, and lingers at the apex of your thighs. He’s going to have to turn you to your back to properly see you spread out and on display. There only to fulfill his every nasty thought.
Or on your knees. Have your wrists bound to your headboard so that your greedy fingers can’t trace the hard lines of his body. You look like the kind that just can’t get enough, and as much as he will explore that with you, he also wants to make you beg to touch him. Taking away the ability for you to center yourself.
The entire point of this little experiment is for him to gain so much control of your body, that you fall apart and go into a different plane of existence. Even if it’s for a few seconds, minutes, hours, whatever. You deserve to not only be bombarded with pleasure, but to dwell in the afterthrows of it.
“Mmm,” you stir in your sleep. As much as he enjoys watching you sleeping, he’s anticipating just when and how he’s going to thrust into you. Even though Dean wants to eventually take his time. There is something about coming up on you with a filthy and hard fuck-a-thon.
He reaches for the cuffs. That’s got to be the first thing he does, even though he can practically smell your arousal. He just knows that you probably fell asleep fantasizing about how he was going to take you.
Dean takes a calculated step closer; at least one wrist immediately must be bound. He wants to take every thought from your head. Allowing him to just use you. You are such a busy and in control woman, shouldn’t somebody take all thoughts out of your pretty little brain? Allow you to just be while euphoria overtakes your body.
The problem is he doesn’t know if you’re a light sleeper or one that will fight him. Getting a little banged up never hurt him. He strikes. Pulling at your hand so quickly that you barely even process what is happening until your wrist is extended above your head, and locked into place.
“Dean?”
“I need a safe word,” his skin is buzzing so fiercely that he trembles on the spot. Just the idea that you’re giving him free range on your body has him so excited that his body twitches. Before responding he grabs onto your other hand, and flips you to your tummy. Latching it to mirror your other hand.
“Hockey puck,” you mewl. Getting to your knees, you arch your back. You don’t care about this cheap sleep set. Let him rip it off your body. “You forgot the mask.”
“What?” He looks from the globes of your ass to your eyes that peek over your shoulder.
“Hockey puck is my safe word. But don’t hold back. I can take it.”
“Fuck me,” you continue to watch him as he kneels onto the bed. His large body causes it to dip in, and you have an aching desire to have that weight on top of you. Thrusting into you with abandon.
Dean’s hands grip to the elastic of the thin shorts, and he pulls abruptly. Tearing the material in two. Taking in a sharp breath, he eyes your glistening cunt, pulsing around nothing, and screaming at him to take you. “You came prepared,” he whispers before his mouth dives into your folds.
He sloppily eats you like a starved man. Slurping up your juices before his lips circle around your clit. A deep guttural moan escapes your lips. Nobody has ever commanded your body like this. Dean is a slut, and his skills prove exactly why. Knowing that he’s probably slept with every woman he encounters, no woman could handle this on a regular basis.
His tongue is magical. He spears into your entrance, and you find yourself pushing back into him. Demanding more. More. More! As good as this feels. You want him. You want what he promised. “Dean!”
“Not begging,” he says with his mouth full of you. He gives your bundle of nerves a quick nipping, before he’s back to fucking his tongue into you.
“Dean! Fuck me! Destroy me!”
You weaken his resolve so much, and he aims to please. Removing his mouth from your quivering pussy, he jerks his shirt off. Slinging it onto the floor before he’s hastily taking off his pants. His thick and heavy cock springs into action, and you drool at the sight of his silky steel rod. You didn’t care if it didn’t fit, you want him to make it fit. You want him to take your breath away.
He crawls back onto the bed, centering himself behind you. His hands grip tightly to your hips, “Don’t forget your safe word,” you nod in acknowledgment, and he plummets so fast and deep into your depths that you cry out his name like a forsaken prayer.
The way this man fills you up so fully should be studied. He stretches your walls to full capacity, and you want to squirm underneath his harsh hold. He doesn’t even give you time to accommodate his width. Dean makes due with his promise to own you, and he fucks you so harshly that your body instantly becomes pliable.
He could have you tied up to the ceiling, and you would let him spread you open,and fuck you so deep and raw that you don’t even know where you end and where he starts. He is a god amongst mere mortals, and you don’t care that he takes and takes, and he won’t stop until he’s had his fill.
Your apartment being so quiet aids in all the filthy squelching from your pussy. Your juices leak down your thighs, and you are limp to every thrust into your body. He utilizes every inch of your cunt. Squeezing your hips so tight that you know that fingerprint bruises will mar your skin for a few days, and you’ll look at them with a dopey smile.
Use you, he is. He is taking down every barrier that you built up about men who couldn’t satisfy a woman. It takes so very little, and judging by his breathy grunts, he’s enjoying this moment just as much as you. God, you love a vocal man. He doesn’t hold back with his moans. “Such a good girl. Such a filthy little slut for me. You giving this pussy just to me?”
“Oh, god, yes!”
“It’s all mine. Whenever I want it. However I want it.”
“Yes!” He respects you being a mom enough that you don’t have to worry about inappropriate times.
“My little fuck bunny.”
“Yes! Yes!” Your peak pleasure blinds you. Curling your toes, and gripping onto the clasps of the cuffs. Mouth agape as you try and remember where you are. All you know is the amount of obscene bliss that washes over you. And he doesn’t stop. Dean’s goal is to just take what he needs.
Reaching around your body, his fingers gently wrap around your neck. He leans forward to add some of that delicious weight onto your back. Hips pistoning into you like a mad man, and your moans turn into whines. How does someone feel this good? You thought that it was just something you wanted because it had been too long, and now you feel like you need him inside you like you need air to breathe.
His heated breath fans across your cheek, and you swear that he needs your throbbing core around him just as much. It’s like he is dying for release. “Give me another one, bunny. One more time. I promise next time I am going to take my time with you. Let you come on my tongue, on my fingers, on my face. But for right now…”
“Oh fuck!” You scream, and he starts jackhammering into you. Fucking into you so hard that your body leaks around the two of you. Everything in this moment disappears and the only thing that exists is Dean.
Your walls flutter around him as you space out completely. Going dumb by pleasure alone is his speciality. He fucks you through the release, “Such a good fucking girl,” and then he stutters. Heat blooms in your belly, and he just fucks his seed deeper into your body.
“Fuck. Yes!” He cries out before nuzzling into your neck. “Never done that before.”
“Hmm?” You weakly respond as he reaches to the cuffs, and releases your wrists. You collapse onto the bed.
“Is it okay for me to watch?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re on birth control, yeah?” There goes the high. Yes, you are, but you don’t want to think about this talk when the post-coital glow is heavenly.
“Yes.”
“So can I watch?” Men are all the same. You roll over onto your back, and spread your legs. Bending them at the knee, and you watch as Dean gleefully stares at your cunt like it is a work of art. Eyes flitting around to your sticky skin, and then right back to your gaping pussy. He licks his lips as his cum starts trickling out.
You wait a few seconds before you start fingering it back into you. His eyes darken, becoming deep pools of lust all over again. You pull your fingers out of you, and lick your lips before bringing the digits straight to your mouth. Sucking on them like you want to suck on his cock. Moaning as if this is the finest five course meal.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he wistfully tells you. Perfect way to enhance your ego.
You stare at Dean’s reflection as he walks up behind you. His arms circle your waist before he kisses up and down your neck. Dean is aware that Easton is asleep and in his room. He isn’t aware of the secret you tossed into the trash can.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. You and him weren’t the most careful. But you were on birth control. What was supposed to be sex when you didn’t have your son became Dean coming over for dinner with him here. Became you and him falling asleep on the couch together. Became more domestic than it was ever supposed to be.
But he’s too young, and isn’t ready for this. “Easton asked if I could teach him to skate.”
“Yeah?” He meets your eyes in the mirror. “Dean, isn’t this…”
“I told him yeah. If you as long as you didn’t mind.”
“It’s just…”
“I don’t want you to finish that sentence,” he interrupts. His voice sounding pained, “Just like I don’t want to just fuck you,” he looks so sincere, but he can’t understand the gravity of responsibility. “I’m not a fuck boy.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You’re thinking it,” you feel bad for thinking it. It’s just you don’t want him to feel the obligation. He doesn’t have to. Why did you allow him to come inside of you? “I’m not saying I expect you to have another child. I’m okay with just Easton.”
“What?” You don’t understand what he’s trying to say. It’s just words in and out of your head.
“I don’t want to be just the neighbor you pity, or the man you let fuck you. I want this to be something real. I feel it is, but I want to label it. And I just don’t want you to think that I need to have my own biological child. You could get your tubes tied tomorrow. I don’t care. I just want this. I want you.”
“Dean?” You see the heartbreak in his eyes because he thinks you’re just going to refuse everything he’s offering. It’s not even that. It’s because you didn’t know how to say this.
“Please, just give me a chance,” he wants a chance now. But will he after?
Dean is the step brother, his best friend is Carter Baizen. Panties in the mouth and cuckolding. "You THink You hate me, but you really hate yourself because you liked it." "I like watching him fuck you." and/or "I know he's watching us, I hope he likes what he sees."
👀 this is sinful. Just beautiful and amazing.
Dean annoys the fuck out of you most of the time. He’s a pompous fuck boy, and you hate that he also looks as if he was made by the gods himself. But when your mom and his dad didn’t show up to the family dinner, but his friend Carter Baizen did, it makes you wonder if his text for dinner was all a set up. And then truth or dare starts. And that is only the beginning of the debauchery. Turns out you’ve just been frustrated. Now, quit being a brat. And don’t be too loud. You’d hate for the neighbors to hear.
"YOU SENT ME PICTURES OF YOU NAKED WHILE I WAS IN A WORK MEETING!"
Dean is not the boss, and neither are you. But he does ask, "How do you feel about two at once?"
It was purely an accident. You didn’t mean to send naked pictures to your coworker while he was meeting with the boss! You never expected him to open up said photo, well, video, while he was with him! You definitely didn’t expect for his phone to be connected to the projector and not only did he see AND hear everything, but so did the assistant district attorney! This was NEVER supposed to happen. And now they need to make sure that you keep your mouth closed. Well…
Kink: Edging
Occupation: Reader is a teacher
Tropes: Stalker with a crush
"You look so good on your knees like that."
Oh. My. God. This one is sinful!!
He's of course a handsome young man. One that you have no business looking at as more than your student. He's trouble, and a terrible flirt. There's nothing wrong with the fantasies you have running in your mind, as long as you don't act upon them. And Dean is about to graduate college, so he'll be out of your hair before you know it. Except he has other plans. And he knows exactly all the fantasies that you're refusing to entertain. And since you don't want to behave. He'll make you.
I'm NEED you to do a step dad or step brother, anything with two people, character is your choice. And there should be some double action and degradation. With "I know he's watching us, I hope he likes what he sees."
This one made me absolutely feral, and I had already been thinking about something similar...
Going to family dinner with your boyfriend was a spur of the moment thing. He had warned you he didn't want you around his mom's new husband, or his asshole of a son. All it takes is one look, and you are heating up and tingling all over, and Dean isn't the only one that notices. If he didn't want Ransom to play with his toys, he shouldn't have brought them for him to look at.
"Every time I see you, I can't help but see myself inside you"
This has some of my favorite things in it!! However, I don't know if this story will really fit with a teacher/student dynamic. Maybe reader is a teacher, but not Dean's.
Dean has noticed you for months. Seen how you give everything to everyone else, and leave yourself with nothing. It's always the same excuse, you're a mom. You just got out of a bad breakup. You can't commit. All he wants is one night anyways. It's your ex's weekend, and you need to relax. Good thing he knows exactly what it is you need, and he's going to make sure he gives it to you, no matter what.
Summary: This was a new start for you. New city. New apartment. New life . Although you didn't think it would be a life without your daughter's father. As toxic as he is, she loves him. Except time apart means she's connecting with someone else. Someone that just won't leave you alone. And won't stop chipping away all the ice around you heart. Even moms need someone to talk to. Moms need fun, they need companionship, and they definitely need incredibly hot sex. And that's all it will ever be. Just. Sex. You were always told the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.
Pairings: Mark Meachum X single mom!Reader
Rating: Mature
Warnings: language, mentions of blood from a gunshot wound, mentions of an absentee father, landlord flirting with tenant, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 4.4K
Series Masterlist
Mark sighs, and leans his head back on the seat of his car. It’d been a long ass day, and still the week isn’t over. His body aches, and he’s beyond exhausted. His hand runs down the length of his face, and he groans as he pushes his door open. Each step feels as if his legs are filled with lead, but he still makes it to the apartment building. Dragging his own feet, and knowing he just needs to take some pain medicine, and lay down.
He gives a sigh as he sees a line of purple crayon on the wall, all the way to the elevator. He follows the line, and not because he wants to. The stupid trail is becoming the bane of his existence. It’s not just the fact that there is a stupid mark on the wall of his apartment building, no. It’s because he knows exactly where it leads.
Mark gives a groan as he looks at a very crude heart that now resides on an elevator wall. With a quick roll of his eyes, he steps out of the elevator and continues to follow the trail. Whether the crayon was trying to make a straight line or it’s because it was created by an annoying three year old. Or however old the toddler is.
And just like he figured, the swirling trail of the purple crayon stops at your door, and he gives the door a loud knock. And then another. Being greeted by your scowling face, “What do you want, Meachum?” Ahh, you sure do look extra cute when you’re angry.
“You know there’s purple crayon marks on the wall? Again,” he adds. This isn’t a random occurrence, it’s become regular, and yet nobody but him seems to mind.
“Yes,” of course you would know, you’d respond with a one syllable answer, and you won’t offer a solution to a frequent problem.
Mark raises his brows, and shrugs, “Oh, good lord, I was planning on taking a magic eraser to it tomorrow.”
“Why not now?”
“Why not now?” You huff, and look back into your oddly quiet apartment. “It’s nearly midnight.”
“No, it’s not,” you reach over, and hold his watch up for him to view, but he just stares at it oddly. “It needs to be cleaned,” he takes a long look up and down your body, and normally you’re annoyed when men do that. Mark is extremely handsome, hot even. Well, he’s far beyond average. And his lingering looks just inflate your ego the tiniest bit. People can get over it. Plus, he’s exciting to banter with.
“And it will be,” you deadpan. He’s sexy. Frustratingly sexy.
“Why do you always wait until I say something to you?” His eyes start to droop down your front, and you push his head back up to where it belongs. You have some dignity. He can’t just ogle you too many times, and you allow it.
“My eyes are up here.”
“I wasn’t…”
“The reason it hasn’t been washed off yet is because when I came home, I had to deal with some shit, then Presley had a meltdown, and needed a walk. So we took said walk. Unbeknownst to me she took a purple crayon with her. And then I had to come back inside, make supper, do some laundry, give Presley her bath, she had to wiggle her toes to tell me they needed clipped, then we picked out her outfit for tomorrow, and she got in the bed. And then while she was asleep, I straightened up my apartment, and you came knocking on my door at nearly midnight, and could have possibly woken her up.”
“Yeah.”
“Ugh!” You throw your head back, and look at the ceiling, not paying attention to him finally getting to roam his eyes over your body. He has no idea if you were married, or even if your daughter was a mistake. What he does know is that with a body like that, he doesn’t know why anyone would want to leave you.
“Mark!” You whisper yell, and push his head back to look you in the eye, “My eyes are up here.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Going to bed. Did you miss how late it was?” Always yapping and complaining. Always talking about your child. Always working or sleeping. Always always. “Go sleep it off.”
“I’d rather sleep with you,” you’re sure this works on any woman. And if you weren’t just shy of being divorced for a year, and didn’t have a child, you would drag him into the apartment with you and ride him so good that he’d shut up. You bet he’s a vocal partner. He doesn’t have to say anything, just grunt. You know he’s a pretty grunted. Stop.
“Not happening.”
“You could get a babysitter,” you roll your eyes, and close the door in his face, “I want the walls cleaned before I wake up,” he doesn’t see you flip the door off. Prick. All he cared about was getting laid. Never had a thought in the world about what you might want, or even need.
“Fine then,” Mark says as he starts to hobble away from your door. “I didn’t need you any—way,” you stop your journey back to your bedroom when you hear a loud fall, and crunch.
Standing there for a few seconds too long, and knowing that it was the sound of a body falling. Grimacing, you turn back to the door, to figure out exactly what happened. You take one slow step at a time. Reaching for the door, you press your head against the wood, “Mark?” Your growly neighbor doesn’t respond. “Mark, are you okay?”
Nothing. You peel open the door, and gasp before running to him, “Oh, you stupid idiot,” you hadn’t even seen his back. You didn’t know that he was bleeding from somewhere, and a deep red stains his shirt. You may not know exactly what it is that he does, but you know that he has a gun. “Mark!” You gently slap at his face, trying to get him to move.
“I’m calling 911.”
“No,” he groans, but keeps his eyes closed.
“Yes, you’re bleeding.”
“And you’re a nurse. You can fix me,” you lean back on your legs, and look at him regretfully. “You’ve got this.”
“It goes against my better judgement.”
“It’s fine. I don’t have better judgement,” isn’t that the truth. Blowing out a puff of air, you look around the hallway. Nobody is here to see you.
“Can you get your thick ass up, and into my apartment.”
“You checking out my ass?” Yes.
“No. I need you to get your ass into my apartment.”
“But you knew it was thick,” you sigh. He’s bleeding out of his body somewhere, and still worried about sex.
“Can you get in my apartment or do I need to call an ambulance?”
He gives a groan, and rolls over slowly. Guess he really doesn’t want anyone to know of his injury. He’s able to get himself into a standing position, and even manages to walk into your place, and you close, and lock the door behind you. “Don’t want anyone disrupting us?”
“Yes,” you roll your eyes, and guide him over to one of the barstools. “Take your shirt off.”
“Let me buy you a drink first.”
“No. And lower your voice,” he gives you a cheeky little grin, but does follow the directions, and that’s when you see the wrapping on his shoulder. “Someone attempted to bandage you up?”
“Yup,” his voice is so low and rumbling, even more than usual.
“Does it hurt?” Mark looks up at you with the most annoyed face, and you can’t help, but giggle. “What’s the deal with 911?”
“If they realize I’m injured, I could be off the job.”
This is the opening you’ve been waiting for. You give him a moment to add anything else to the conversation as you remove the wrapping over his shoulder. Amateurs. “Was this even cleaned properly?”
The wound is at least not jagged. But he will need stitches. “Define cleaned?” You turn to your first aid kit, much more advanced than the average home. You’ve been here before unfortunately. It’s not something you’re particularly proud of or want to even talk about. And still it’s a part of your history. And Presley’s.
You walk back to Mark’s back, and pour distilled water over it. “Mother fucker.”
“Quiet,” you didn’t need your daughter to wake up and see this. Thankfully she is a hard sleeper, but it’s a chance you don’t want to take. Not again.
“Let me clean out a gun wound on your body, and see how quiet you are.”
“So you admit that this is a bullet wound?” He just nods, wincing from the pain. “Who took the bullet out of you?”
“Partner,” you reach over to grab a needle. He’s going to need a few sutures. It wouldn’t take long.
“What type of work do you do, Meachum?”
“FBI.”
“Bullshit,” of all the stupid things that anyone could say to you. And then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his badge.
“It could be fake.”
“Could be. But it’s not.”
“So then why no reports of your injury?”
“Already told you, I’ll be off the job,” men and their pig headed ways. At least he’s someone that can sit still and take stitches without complaint or being numbed. Good. “How bad is it?”
“I’d rather you stay here.”
“Done,” he responds too fast. Still thinking about sex. You’ll give him credit, he’s persistent. And still he reminds you too much of your ex husband. He’s just on the right side of the law.
“On the couch so I can monitor you," he growls, annoyed at your answer, and you can’t help but laugh. “I don’t want to go beating on your door too early to check on you.”
“What about the brat?” You slap him across his head.
“She’s not a brat.”
“Probably not, it’s just you that’s not paying attention to what she’s doing in my apartment building.”
“You know, Meachum, maybe some of us have actual thoughts on our minds besides how you’re going to get into your tenant’s pants. Maybe I missed her drawing on the walls, or maybe you just don’t know Harold.”
“Who the fuck is Harold?” He turns back to look at you with an annoyingly confused and handsome face.
“Either sleep in this, or walk over to your apartment for a change of clothes, I don’t care,” you tighten a wrap around him, and walk away. “And clean up the damn mess. There’s some ibuprofen in the cabinet above the sink. I’m going to sleep.”
Who the fuck is Harold? Why the fuck did you even bring up Harold? Calling your daughter a brat hadn’t been his proudest moments. Especially if he wants something from you, like a great night of fucking. But it is annoying how there’s always a trail of purple crayon coming down the hall. You’d wash it off, only for it to reappear again.
He did need clean clothes. But he also wants to be a thorn in your side, so he will go get something else to wear, and since you were so kind to stitch him up, he will clean up your mess. But he will also return, just so you can wake up to his face.
Slowly he walks next door to his place, and looks down at the one spot he never reminds you to get. Little purple tally marks beside his door. Now there are seven of them. He doesn’t know why your daughter is counting something, and he doesn’t know why you never notice it, but he’s going to let it sit just a little bit longer until he knows exactly what it is. It’s not like he can just ask you, or even her. Something for another time.
“Ahhh!” Mark groans at the screeching in this too small living room. “Mommy!!” This is the elusive Presley. He knows her only by name, and her purple crayon handy work in the apartment. An annoying treasure map straight to you.
“Mommy, there is a man on the couch! Ahhh!!!”
“Pres,” your voice sounds amazing and smoky in the morning. My God, the things that he could do to your mouth to make it sound even more raspy. “There isn’t a man in the apartment. Go back to sleep, it’s Saturday.”
“But there really is a man on the couch! He’s that meanie from next door,” meanie? And how has she seen him? He doesn’t recall a face to her name.
“Bastard,” you groan, getting out of bed. Of course he stayed. Of course he didn’t go into work. Of course Presley saw him. Of course you have to explain this to her.
“That is a bad word, and I get a quarter.”
“Yes, darling,” Mark winces, and sits up on the couch. He gives his head a few rolls, and then settles looking straight down the hallway to you. Someone take this kid, because you have no right to be wearing such short shorts, and practically a see through tank top that hides nothing, but your peaked nipples.
“Why are you still here?”
“You told me to stay here so you could monitor me. You didn’t monitor me,” Presley peeks around your legs, and locks eyes with Mark. Her warm brown eyes go as large as saucers before she runs into her room, and slams the door. “What’s her problem?”
“She’s scared of you,” you answer nonchalantly walking to the fridge.
“Why?”
“Didn’t you hear? You're the meanie from next door.”
“I’m not a meanie,” you turn to glare at him, going back to your pitcher, you pour a large glass of cold brew coffee. “What’s that?” He’s incorrigible, already looking at your tits again. Had you had time, you’d have put on a bra. But honestly, making him suffer feels good.
“Coffee.”
“Coffee isn’t cold,” annoying. You ignore him as you grab creamer, and salted caramel syrup. “Why am I a meanie?”
“Because you make her wash the purple crayon off the wall.”
“There’s other people in this building,” You shrug. He asked. “I didn’t ask her to wash it, I asked you.”
“And she joins me.”
“That’s not being a meanie, that’s keep this building nice. And when has she seen me?”
“Normally she watches you arrive out that window,” you give a point to the window that’s behind the couch. Presley was always watching people out of the window. Always waiting on someone. “And I had to tell her that you’re the neighbor next door, and the owner of the building, and you like to keep things extra neat and tidy. Although cleaning up your wounds is a completely different story. Your shirt is ruined.”
“Whose Harold?” You look at him confused, and shrug your shoulders. You have no idea who he is even talking to. “Is he like your boyfriend? Is that why you won’t fuck me?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend, and my reasons for not wanting to fuck you goes beyond a partner, if you could tell. Not to mention you called my daughter a brat.”
“And then you mentioned Harold,” you stare blankly at him, not following at all. He’s obsessed with some man that you don’t even know. “Is Harold her dad? Your dad? Who is Harold?”
“I think we need to get you to the doctor. You’re talking out of your mind.”
“We were talking about the purple crayon, and you said I don’t even know Harold,” you snort, and walk down the hallway. “Who is Harold?”
Opening up Presley’s bedroom door, you look at her flipping through a book on her bed, “Pres, come on and meet the meanie from next door. Bring your book,” she gives you a questioning look before getting up from her bed. She walks directly to you, and grabs onto your hand tightly. She gives Mark a hard look, before looking back up at you. “See if the meanie can read your book, while I make waffles.”
“Only if you add the crunchy strawberries.”
“What’s crunchy strawberries?” Mark asks. He gives Presley a look of pure fear as she sits as far away from him as possible, and tosses the book to him.
“It’s freeze dried strawberries,” you turn towards the kitchen, and keep a watchful eye on the pair. Presley rarely met a stranger, and most of the time she’s a bit too kidnap friendly because of it. Maybe her and Mark got off on the wrong foot.
“Read it, please,” she says. Her voice is so sweet and there’s not anybody that is immune to melting at the sound of it. Well, almost everybody.
“Harold,” Mark groans, and looks over to you. You look like the kitten that got the cream with the big smile that you have on your face. Serves him right. “And the Purple Crayon.”
“Mr. Meanie, I’m sorry that I do that on your walls. But if we keep cleaning it, can I keep doing it?”
“Mr. Meanie?”
“I don’t know your name,” you chuckle a bit as you start to make the waffles. She’s not a brat. A bit confused, and perhaps you allowed her to act out her favorite book because you felt she was losing some of her childhood wonder. Maybe it’s wrong for you to allow her a purple crayon knowing what she’s going to do. Maybe you should ask her to stop. But since you moved here, that stupid crayon is one of the rare times that she smiles, and actually seems like a kid.
“Mark.”
“I’m Presley. Did you know my daddy hasn’t seen me in seven weeks.”
“Presley,” you say, turning back around to her. You thought by reading the book it would get her mind off her father. Not bring him up. You thought wrong.
“I haven’t. That’s what you said yesterday, seven weeks. I heard you leave daddy a voicemail.”
“Seven, huh?” Mark adds in. Like you truly want him to know anything about your ex, especially given the fact that he works for the FBI.
“Don’t encourage her. Daddy has a very busy job,” you don’t protect him for her. You truly didn’t care anymore about him. His dangerous career was the more important thing. It was more important than you, more important than your home, and somehow, more important than her. The one thing in his life that he said he would never want to lose. He lost you, and then didn’t care to try and see her.
“I was just…do you know how to make tally marks?” She pouts up at him, shaking her head quickly.
“Yeah, you do, Pres. You said Miss Jackie is teaching you.”
“I’m not very good at them. I don’t know how to count with them,” you don’t know why she’s telling a fib, but it didn’t matter. You look back over to her, and continue on with the waffles. The quicker you can get Mark out of here, the better.
“Sorry,” Presley shrugs at him, and scoots the tiniest bit closer. “What’s the deal with this book.”
“Imagination,” she says. There’s even that twinkle back in her voice. Talking about her dad usually brought up insecurity and a long time of her being shy and awkward. Going back into her shell while she tried to explain missing him away with herself.
“I thought Harold was a real person.”
“He is to me. He’s the one that draws on the walls with me. Read, please,” you look at them briefly when his low timbre starts reading that silly little book. Presley couldn’t read well, but she has that book memorized enough that you would think she could. Each word he says, she just scoots the tiniest bit closer, and for your own heart health, you have to look away.
All these moments that she doesn’t have with her father. A man that begged you for a child. A man that thought that said child would keep you around. That you would ignore all the illegal activities he engaged in. That you would just be preoccupied enough that you wouldn't care. He thought wrong. And even though you regret she doesn’t have a father, you don’t regret making the right decision.
It’s just simple moments like this that make it harder to accept. As much as you try to ignore the moment when Presley giggles you turn back to look at them. If it isn’t her gazing up at him like he holds all of life’s secrets in his palms, then it’s the look that he gives you.
First it’s longing. His eyes almost pout as he glances at you, and then he smiles, which quickly turns to what you can only describe as a smolder. It’s enough to have you blowing out a quick puff of air. Arrogant bastard. It’s well enough he turned an almost too sweet domestic moment into vulgar. You can’t think of him as more than a dick you want to fuck.
This is why you can’t let your pussy push you into things that your heart isn’t ready for. Presley is attached. In ways. She’s young enough now that she wouldn’t remember him if you cut this off now. But how can you? He literally lives next door, and your daughter keeps drawing purple lines all the way to his door.
She still has this whimsical imagination, and in those moments of her using that stupid purple crayon, she doesn’t mention her father. You’re aware that it’s most likely annoying for people, but you always make her clean it with you. This is the frustrating thing about having to be a single mom, you are the one that has to pick up her big emotions for such a small child.
Plating up a waffle for Presley, you set it down at her place at the bar. She wastes no time in looking up at Mark, her bright eyes shining up at him, “Mr. Meanie, I can’t get up to my seat by myself. Can you help me?”
“Sure,” he steals a glance at you before you turn to make his own waffle. It’s the least you can do seeing how he’s entertaining your child. Trying to ignore him the best you can because she is ultimately the way to your heart. And you have no business engaging in anything of any way with that man that is purely your next door neighbor. And he needs to stay that way.
“Don’t,” you move away from Mark as he steps up behind you. Keeping things quiet while Presley munches on her spectacular amazing wonderful waffles. “Just don’t.”
“I was going to tell you the waffles smell amazing,” he holds up his arms in surrender. “Did — did I do something wrong?” Of course he didn’t. In fact, he kind of did everything right. That’s if you wanted to get into a relationship. And you do not. You don’t ever want to beholden to a man ever again. Things are going great. It’s just you and Presley.
“No, you are perfectly fine, Mr. Meachum.”
“Ahh, things are getting too real,” he has no idea just how real it’s getting. How you got to see Presley have sweet moments with her dad. How you used to long for those moments again. Until you realize he is always going to engage in criminal behavior, and no amount of money will ever be worth the danger that comes with him.
“To be fair, I have only propositioned you for something more physical. But you invited me in.”
“And maybe now I’m asking you to leave?” His eyes scan the full length of your body before landing on your eyes.
“Is that a question for yourself or are you asking me to leave?”
“I don’t know,” the interactions between Mark and Preseley have never happened. She has only ever heard him. Normally it’s just him complaining about the purple lines, and making some playfully flirty comment that you roll your eyes about. That’s what you like about the two of you. It’s slightly flirty, and you have considered it, and even had fantasies of him that were able to get you off to.
“Well, when you find out what it is you want, you know where to find me,” he takes a step back from you, and you spin around quickly. Looking at him fully.
“You haven’t eaten your waffle.”
“I have to get to work.”
“Let me pack it up for you. You can take it to go,” without even taking a moment to hyper focus on how he could interpret you packing him breakfast, you’re already grabbing a container. Over analyzing things never bode well in your life.
“I don’t want Mr. Meanie to go. He didn’t finish my book.”
“Maybe teach the kid my name,” no. You’re not teaching her his name. That is one more step to her growing attached. “But I’ll gladly take breakfast to go, Doc,” Mark gives you a quick wink.
”You think you might want to let me know how your gunshot wound is healing?”
“Maybe I’ll swing by tonight, and let you clean it?”
“Yes! Before seven. That’s my bedtime.”
“The kid wants me to come by,” you look towards Presley, and then back at Mark. What is this back and forth? You’re just wanting to make sure that he’s okay. “I probably won’t be off until around ten though.”
“I’m just checking your wound,” this is more of a reminder to yourself than to him. Just his wound. You’re looking at his hole, and not showing him yours.
“Of course you are. It’s a friendly neighbor gesture, right?”
“It’s my duty,” fucking hell. Once you thought your duty was to please your husband. He thought that as well. All you want is to make sure that he is okay. Medically speaking.
“I won’t hold you to that. Alright, trouble maker, I’ve got to get going. Take care of your mom. I expect Harold’s crayon to be gone when I come home,” he gets right at Presley’s level, and you miss the whisper he gives her, “Leave the tally marks.”
He’s going to be trouble for you. And you don’t know if the right thing is to move, or let the trouble happen.
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, teasing, oral sex, fingering, dry humping, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 7k
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Series Masterlist
“Gloria!” Curtis yells into the flower shop. “Gloria San…” he stops the moment the older woman walks into the shop front. Looking at the man up and down with a scowl. Curtis’ stance switches a bit, before he looks up at the ceiling with a sigh.
“I need a bouquet,” Gloria squeals. Throwing her head back with so much glee. The wrinkles in her eyes gather towards the corners as she hops from foot to foot. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“It is a very big deal, Curtis. You don’t date. You definitely aren’t romantic with flowers, and when my husband asked you why you never buy them, you told him you were waiting on that girl. Is it ‘that girl’?” Her brow lifts in a question, and Curtis runs his hand down his face.
“Yes.”
“The day has finally come!” She starts to walk around the store, pulling different stems of flowers. “I knew it would. I had faith she would come back to you, and you could tell her that you have been so in love with her, and too chicken shit to say anything.”
“It’s not like that,” Gloria throws her head back, releasing a belly laugh. “This is serious.”
“I’m aware. You’re picky. You have only settled for chasing tail because you were so concerned about this woman coming back into your life to carry your babies.”
“She doesn’t have to have babies.”
“No, she needs to have your babies, there’s a difference. Does she have kids?” Curtis shakes his head no. “How long have you been in love with this girl?”
“A lot longer than I should have,” Gloria stops, and turns towards him. Resting a hand on his cheek, smiling longingly at him. “It’s always been unrequited.”
“If it was unrerquited, she wouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Shouldn’t have happened, we were drinking,” Gloria rolls her eyes before continuing her mission. “And it was nice. But it was too much, too soon, and…”
“Now you’ve got her alone in your house, and you’re about ready to explode,” Gloria looks back at Curtis with a cheeky smile, and his face falls. “You’ve been celibate for how long?”
“Not important,” no one needed to know that small detail. Because no one truly understands exactly how much he has just wanted you. And no one else has ever compared, and then he got tired of trying.
“Too long!” She shouts, and carries her bundle of flowers to her work station. “You’ve spent a decade pining after this girl who was verbally abused by her mother, and has never really had anyone in her corner. I know how much you’ve wanted this.”
“But she doesn’t,” Curtis gives her an awkward smile, but keeps his eyes on her wrinkled hands building the most perfect bouquet of flowers, and it’s still not more beautiful than you. “We’ve been thrust into this weird situation.”
“Thrust is an odd choice of words.”
“Mind out of the gutter, you dirty ole bitty,” Gloria gives a scraggly chuckle, and finishes wrapping up the bouquet. “I don’t think she knows her worth, and I know I have done a shitty job so far with my tough love.”
“Curtis,” his deep blue eyes finally looks into someone that has oddly been like a mother to him. Her husband was an old ranch hand, and he often invited Curtis to their house for dinner. Tried setting him up with a few of her daughters, until he confided in her.
“You are being a bit hard headed because you don’t want to be hurt. But let your walls down, and show her the real you that’s not so hardened from lonely isolation and working on a ranch,” Curtis would love to give Gloria a deadpanned look. Pretend that this isn’t bothering him as much as it actually is. “And if it doesn’t work out.”
“I lose everything.”
“Then it wasn’t meant to be.”
“Yeah,” he says, laying some money on the counter, “I’m not letting that happen. I may be a simple man, but that woman — she was always meant to be with me. Fuck the ranch. It’s only her that matters,” he nods his head towards Gloria, and heads back to his truck.
“That’s my boy,” she sighs. Curtis isn’t a lot of things. He’s not fancy, he’s not over the top. But what he is, is a kind hardworking man. He will give you the world, and all he asks is for your heart and loyalty. He won’t leave you. He doesn’t want to give up the ranch and his life, but he would. For you.
There’s very little that he wouldn’t do for you. Hell, he’s going to take you dancing, something he doesn’t do. But you love it. He’s gotten all dressed up, cleaned up his beard, wearing cologne, and his nice boots for you. He would change everything about him if it would make you happy.
The good thing is he doesn’t think you want him to be changed. He thinks you rather like his rugged and dirty self. But you definitely need to see that not only does he clean up nicely, but that you deserve to be seen all dolled up with him. Someone that you are proud of. And although he gets a pang of jealousy when other men look at you, there’s also this sense of pride.
He saw the look on Yancy’s face when he was carrying you out of the bar. That look of desperate longing, that he couldn’t have you. Wondering if you were going to fuck him or not. He wouldn’t take advantage of you like that. When the inevitable happens, both of you will be stone cold sober. The two of you will worship the other. Just as it was intended.
And he’s going to take his time. He’s going to memorize every dip and curve of your body while he paints you with his tongue and lips. He is going to make you realize that every inch of your perfect body is beautiful and worthy of complete devotion, and almost obsession. And it’s getting harder and harder to turn you down for sex. Until he sees you completely enthralled by him, or if the mood actually strikes right, he won’t allow it. Nope.
He won’t allow you to debase yourself just in order to forget harsh words from your mom. He won’t let you use his body to fill a void left by feeling unloved, and less than. Your mother should have never been a mother, especially not a mother to a girl. That woman was jealous of the fact that you could smile, and it would make people do your bidding. She’s angry that her dad doted on you and Austin.
Generations of less than perfect parenting. Curtis is stopping the cycle. He’d love kids with you, all you had to do is ask. But until you realize that you are perfect as you are, kids will not even be entertained.
But he can see it. Waking up with you asleep on his chest, while the pitter patter of little feet walk across the floors upstairs. He’ll make sure the boys treat their mama with respect, and the little girls can be just as tough and rumble as the boys. He sees those little hands slipping underneath the door.
He even sees all their faces. Three, naturally. Two strapping young lads, and his little princess. Your sidekick. He chuckles, knowing that thinking this far into your futures when you’re not even included in his plans is a bad idea. Bad luck, he’s sure. But he just wants to shower you with so much love that you have always deserved. He wants to drown you in attention and adoration.
“It’s just the first date,” he tells himself. It’s not even an orthodox way of getting to this first date. But the thought of it still made you smile. He knows that you are excited, and you want it just as much as he does.
You’re bored. Groaning, you lean your head back on the couch. Where is he? He said the two of you would leave at five o’clock, and it’s 4:55, and he’s not here. He’s going to be late. It’s just like a man to promise you something, and not show up.
You look down at your phone, disappointed that you thought that he could be different. At the end of the day what mattered to him was clearly just the ranch. Not you. Not your feelings. It’s humiliating that nobody ever sees you past something you could do for them.
Your blink rapidly, trying to stop the impending tears from falling. You won’t cry for a man. You won’t allow a man to ever have that much control over you. Never allow them to see you down. When Curtis inevitably turns up, you’ll ignore him. This doesn’t affect you.
It doesn’t. It means nothing. You sniffle. It’s allergies. It’s being back in this God forsaken place. All it does is bring up all this unwanted emotional baggage that you don’t want to deal with. It’s not Curtis that has you feeling like shit. No. It’s your mom. Fuck her. And fuck Curtis, too.
You’ll resort to just fucking him. At least you can get something out of this. You’ve waited long enough. And then — you’ll just walk away. Fuck this ranch, too. Fuck. It. All.
You sit up straight, wiping at your under eyes when someone knocks on the door. They knock again, but louder. “Curtis isn’t here. You can go away.”
“Red!” You look back down at your phone again. Five on the dot. “Red, you wanna answer the door?”
You sling the door wide open, planning to glare at him, and then you just stop. You allow your eyes to look up and down his body. He’s wearing good jeans, and even a nice button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up his arm, and showing off the few tattoos he has smattered on his forearms.
“Why are your eyes red?” He looks good. He smells good. Oddly expensive considering how Curtis normally smells like sunshine, sweat, hay, and horses. Extremely masculine, and not as disgusting as one might think. He cleans up nice. Even a pretty watch.
“Red?” You glance up at him. “Your eyes.”
“I just sneezed,” his brow furrows, and his head tilts. Looking a bit dog-like.
“I,” Curtis fidgets, and you finally stop gawking at him, noticing the beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hands. Now your eyes are watery for different reasons. “I b-brough you f-flowers,” he takes a deep breath, and hands them to you awkwardly. “Baby, don’t cry.”
Immediately he steps through the door, crowding you with his manliness, and actual tears break through your lashes. Every part about him overstimulates you. His scent, his height, the way his good boots quickly click on the floor, the way his calloused hands brush over your cheek as he brushes away the tears. And that word. Baby.
You’ve been touched over and over again. Women in college with you called you disgusting names because of the men that have touched you. But it’s in this moment that you realize that you’re still touch starved. Starved for a gentle touch, and soft voice to ease you out of your head. You don’t have to tell Curtis your deep rooted issues. He just knows. He’s lived it.
“Baby,” his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. This manly man is being so gentle with you that it hurts. You fear if you enjoy this too much that he will be taken away from you, and you want him more than you have ever wanted anything. Those walls that you spent years building, he is destroying with one goddamn word.
“Red.”
“S-s-stop. Hold,” he starts to retreat, but you grab his hand, keeping it softly on your face. “I thought — I thought you weren’t coming.”
“I wanted to pick you up,” dammit. You will not cry in front of this man. “I just feel we were skipping over some good parts here. The man coming to pick the woman up from her house. I didn’t want to just leave the house like we’re some established couple.”
“And you brought me flowers,” Curtis tries to hide the grin that is threatening to pull his lips completely up. Damn this hot as fuck man that has a sweet soul. “I was talking myself out of how you don’t mean anything to me.”
“Yeah?” He says, that grin fading quickly. His eyes look down in a true sadness. He cares what you think of him. “What did you determine?”
“How much that it actually would hurt me if you didn’t show up,” he peeks back up at you. “I think I care too much about you. About — what you think when it comes to me,” Curtis’ tongue dips out of his mouth, and he pulls his bottom lip in. Biting on the tender flesh. He reaches over to set the beautiful flowers on the counter before he places a hand on the wall and over your head.
You feel so small looking up at him. Mouth agape and trying to catch your breath. He’s so close. His eyes drift down your body, lingering on your chest before he looks all the way down. Appreciating every inch of you, especially the parts you have exposed. His hand that isn’t planted on the wall above you goes to your hip, and he pulls you closer to him, and you whimper. It is completely involuntary, but it makes Curtis pitch his hips forward.
He rights himself by putting a foot in between your own. He bends his knee slightly, and it is almost right at your core. You’re going to suffocate before the night is over. “I think an awful lot about you, baby,” you squeak at that pet name again, and his lips perk up on the side. Cheeky bastard. He knows what that name is doing to you.
“Think about me how?”
“This a pure first date.”
You have visions of the most lewd and salacious ways that he could be thinking about you. The curious part of you wants to know everything. How does he envision you? Does he touch himself when he has those thoughts?
“How are you thinking about me right now?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth. Tsking you. “Be explicit,” you look up at him through your lashes. And you are dying to know everything.
Curtis groans, looking down at his leg, and then back to you. Feeling like that’s a cue, you squat down, touching your core against his thick muscular thigh. The sound that releases from his throat sounds like a man starving for touch, even more than you are. “Don’t start. We got dinner reservations.”
“Then tell me.”
Bending over, he puts his mouth right at the shell of your ear. His voice is pained and whispered, “I briefly,” he breathes, pulling back enough to see you slowly grind over his thigh, "Envisioned you just like this. So desperate for me that you make yourself get off on my thigh.”
“Then what?” you know that you are playing with fire, and you don’t care.
“After you come on my leg, I throw you over my shoulder, and take us to that damn couch, so I can fuck into you, and then watch you bounce on my cock. As good as fucking from behind feels, I never want to take my eyes off you. I just want to stare at you enjoying yourself.”
“Curtis.”
“Baby, if we don’t leave now, I’ll have you sore for a week,” he clears his throat before standing up straight. Putting both his hands on your hip. “And you deserve to be treated like a queen. Don’t pout. I’m not going to fuck you…yet.”
And yet is a promise you will just have to deal with for now. No matter how much it aches. He gives you an easy wink before grabbing onto your hand, “You ready for our first date?”
“Yeah,” you’ve been ready for many years.
You had not expected for Curtis to bring you to the town dance hall. It had few updates since you left, but it is still lively on the dance floor, and the food is yummy. Most people didn’t come for the food, so there are very few tables hence the reason for reservations. The majority of the people came for the live music and good times.
Curtis is clearly reluctant to dance. Choosing to watch you frolic around with a girl you got along with in high school even if you weren’t friends. Your mom didn’t approve of her family. Her mother still works in housekeeping, and her father is a ranch hand. She grew up to be a teacher, and already a mother of two, and happily divorced, and happily remarried. Cheyenne was always nice to you, and didn’t even hesitate to start dancing with you.
It didn’t hurt that her new husband Cliff and Curtis worked at the ranch together. You’re hoping Cliff is the reason that you and Chey are dancing, and not you and Curtis. He did look like he needed to have a conversation with Cliff, and you just wanted to move to the music.
There’s freedom on the dance floor. Even more freedom when you realize you’re not obligated to go anywhere, but back home with Curtis. You giggle to yourself realizing just how wonderful this feels, even if Curtis is somewhat bailing on your date. It’s fine. And Chey has a lot more energy than you.
“I’m going to go get a drink,” you scream into her ear. She gives you a nod, “Then I’m going to bring Curtis out here.”
“That man doesn’t dance,” for all she knows, Curtis and you are just friends. Business partners. Acquaintances. “He seriously doesn’t dance for anyone.”
“Is that so?” You eye her up before turning around, heading to the table that occupies Curtis and Cliff. The tables are pushed back from the speakers, and have the ability to not have the music so loud. Getting over to the table, and you saddle on up in between Curtis’ spread legs. Playfully you put your hands on his thighs.
The way he looks up at you knocks the air right out of your lungs. His hands touch you at your knees, and they skim up your sides, not stopping until they get to your hips. “Oh,” Chey exclaims before crashing into her husband’s lap. “So it’s like that.”
“Red, what cha doing?”
“I’m thirsty,” he removes one hand to reach over to your beer, and hands it to you. You take a long pull from the cup before handing it back to him. Smiling so sweetly.
“What else do you want, darling?" That word does not sound as sweet, but it’s also not making him look quite as gone for you. Maybe it’s a safe nickname in public. “I know you didn’t just plant yourself in between my legs for a drink of cheap beer. What do you need, baby?”
You can hear Cheyenne giggling, but you don’t know if it's at the show in front of her, or the fact Cliff is kissing behind her ear. “You brought me here, and you’re not going to dance?”
“I don’t dance.”
“Not even for me,” you pout playfully, but he roughly pulls you into him. Putting his mouth behind your ear, and he inhales you.
“The next slow song, I’ll…” his voice stops as a slow country song starts playing. “Okay, let’s head out to the dance floor, baby,” you look over at Chey whose mouth is wide open as Curtis leads you out onto the floor. Yet another time of Curtis claiming you, and also proving that you’re different from any other woman he’s ever had at his side.
He’s doing things he doesn’t normally do. He’s showing you off, instead of hiding behind closed doors. He wants the world to know who you belong to. And it doesn’t feel so bad having him drag you out onto the dance floor. Dodging the different people slowing down, and pulling in close to one another.
Curtis twirls you around, before wrapping you tight against his body. His arm firmly around your back. Definitely too close to dance. But close enough to hear him, and feel his breath. Watching his pretty smile in the flashing lights. Physically close, but it’s the intimacy that is striking you harder.
“You dragged me out here, and you’re not going to talk?” His mouth is right next to your ear, and the rumble of his voice goes right to your core.
“I’m just enjoying the view,” smiling up at him, you stop rocking back and forth to stand on your tippy toes. Kissing him right beside his mouth. You move too quickly away from him, but catch his movement to chase your mouth. It’s not all in your head, no matter how much you try to convince yourself it is. You don’t want to think about how things you like disappear. You want to enjoy this, no matter how short it could be.
“So you still think I’m sexy?”
“I think you’re sexier,” Curtis has the biggest smirk as he grips onto your hips tighter. He digs his fingers into your soft curves, pulling you more into him. “I feel like you’re trying to consume me.”
“There’s a guy behind you,” he sighs, letting the two of you drift in a different direction, “I don’t like him staring at your ass.”
“Curtis, people stare at asses.”
“Not yours,” the grip of his hands soften, and slide lower. Too low, and they cup your buttcheeks. “Nobody needs to be staring at you like they want to eat you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re mine,” your brow cocks up immediately. “Only I get to stare at your ass like that. Does this make you uncomfortable?” You shake your head no. The last thing you want is for him to remove his hands off you. This feral idea that he is claiming you, yet again, in front of other men that only see you as a piece of meat just makes you feel weak in the knees.
“I’m such a caveman.”
“Just don’t tell me what to do,” you give him a warning. “I don’t mind you — claiming me. Don’t make it toxic. But I want people to know. Even if it’s not real,” that voice of doubt will forever haunt you. You don’t want to let it win, or even let it control you.
Curtis’ eyes roam over your face as he brings his mouth closer to your neck. He lets his pillowy soft lips tickle your neck. He ghosts his lips over your skin, peppering open mouth kisses on your sensitive column. “It’s very real, Red.”
He jerks you flush against him, and you whimper as his bulging hard on presses against your stomach. “I’m not giving you sex tonight. I’m gonna make you work for my body.”
“Asshole,” you giggle, trying to worm your hand down his stomach, but he grabs ahold of you.
“But I am going to worship you when we get home,” your eyes close at the sound of that. “I want to kiss every inch of your skin. Every dip and curve. I want to pick you up and throw you on the bed, and peel these painted on jeans off your legs, strip your shirt and bra off, and then rip those panties off you. And then,” he presses his forehead against yours, and he inhales deeply. Memorizing the way your heat alters that sweet florally perfume.
“Then?” you gulp, staring up at him.
“I’m going to place my head between your thighs, and I’m going to make you come over and over again on my mouth,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “You doubt me?”
“Nobody has ever made me come from oral,” something flashes in Curtis’ eyes, and he glances down at his watch. “But I’ve gotten very good at faking orgasms.”
“Mmm,” Curtis growls, and is immediately turning. He leads you through the throng of people. Slightly pushing anyone out of the way as he trudges to wherever he’s going.
“Where are we going?”
“Home,” butterflies. You’ve never had a place that felt like home. A place that you wanted to go to feel safe and secure.
“Why?” You giggle, trying to slow him down. He gives a wave over to Cliff and Chey. Thankfully, all you brought was yourself, and your ID. “Curtis!” He doesn’t stop when he makes it through the door. And apparently your legs aren’t going fast enough for him, and he scoops you up. Placing your belly on his shoulder as he carries you through the parking lot.
He doesn’t grunt, or make any sounds with your added weight. This is a man. He is all muscle and hard lines. Each hard piece of him was carved with grueling work. He’s used to tossing things around, and now it’s going to be you. “Curtis?”
He places you into the seat of the truck before he jogs to the other side. Throwing the truck into gear, and he backs out of his spot too easily. God, a hot man knowing how to control a vehicle is ridiculously sexy. The fact he’s on a race to get you home just to feast on you makes you swish around. Pressing your thighs closer together.
“Don’t you ever fake an orgasm with me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“You will not hurt my feelings. But I want you to always be satisfied. If you don’t enjoy something, fine. But I need you to know. I really enjoy eating pussy.”
“Great. Tell me exactly whose pussy have you been eating?”
He rolls his eyes, and turns to scowl at you. “None for a very long time. And I’m starving. So you’re going to lay on your back, and let me have fun.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. I take it we’re not taking things slow.”
“We’re taking my dick slow. But I need you to realize just how desperate I am for you. How much I have been envisioning the taste of your cunt. And I hope that you have stayed hydrated today,” his tongue clicks simultaneously with a wink, and he looks back out the window.
“Did you just…?”
“Yes, Red. I did a clicking wink with you.”
“Why should I have stayed hydrated,” he looks towards you, and you look damn near adorable worrying away at your lip. You nervously look out your side of the window, and he stops the car in the middle of the road. “Are you crazy?”
“C’mere,” Curtis’ hand slaps on your thigh before he drags you across the bench seat, and right next to him. “You’re too far away from me.”
“You’re needy.”
“Sure am. Needy for you,” your mouth opens, and it closes quickly. “You better keep that closed when you’re right beside me. And yeah, it’s because you’re too close, and it makes me wonder what my dick will look like between your pretty lips.”
“We can.”
“Nope. This is about worshiping you. But don’t tempt me,” you settle back, making yourself comfortable. It feels nice with his added warmth. It could be the hottest day in the year, and you think you’d still be trying to get closer to him. “Did you ever miss it here?”
Curtis’ voice sounds raw, terrified to hear your answer. It’s not even one you have to think too hard about, “No,” his breath shutters, and his body seems to deflate, “It was only you that I missed.”
“You don’t have to butter me up. I’ll still eat you.”
“I’m not. I think it’s safe to say you and I have always had an odd connection. Some of us were just too scared to do anything because he was afraid of what his best friend would think if you started fucking his little sister.”
“I’d do more than just fuck you.”
“Oh yeah?” You lean to the side, and kiss his neck. Feeling a rumble rattle through his body, you smile as you sit back on the seat. “And just what else would you do with me?”
“Own you. Consume every ounce of your soul and pleasure. I will bring tears to your eyes as we make love for the first time. And I’ll devour you,” home. It can’t get here fast enough. You’re left twitching and moving around in your seat. You can’t say anything to that. You’ve never made love. Never did anything, but fucked. And it felt good. It just never lasted.
His right hand rests on your leg, but makes work moving up and down your supple skin. A torturous countdown of how many seconds it takes to get home. Up. One. Down. Two. Up. Three. Down. Four. Up. Five. Down. Six. It’s all you can do to stay sane. All these promises, and all his control, while you’re melting in this seat. But this is something you could grow used to.
Something that you could grow old with. And that terrifies you. If you let him in, you give him the power that you have refused to give anyone else. Simply put, you allow him to hurt you, to break you completely down into nothing. The power to destroy what little resolve that you have left.
But the thought of not experiencing someone truly loving you terrifies you more. So if you’re going to give him you, you’re going to fully dive right into this moment, and with this man. Giving him the ability to do what you have always wanted from him. What you’ve always craved and needed. You’re going to let him destroy you in pleasure and hopefully love. Not an obligation or a duty to keep something in the family, but because it’s what he wants to do.
His truck comes to a slow roll into the driveway, and without even another word, he slings it into park, and hops out of the truck. You think for only a split second he’s changed his mind until his hands reach in to find your body, and he drags you out of his truck. An arm under your legs, while the other supports your back, he carries you bridal style into the house, while you’re left to roam his chest with your hand.
Even if tonight is all that you get, you’ve had him.
Curtis kicks the door close, and his stride quickens. Carrying you all the way to the bedroom before tossing you onto the bed. He toes off his boots, and reaches behind him to pull off his shirt. His gaze sets on you while he pulls his belt undone, and before you can even think, you try and get this stupid dress off you.
“Uh uh,” he tsks. Yanking his pants down, he stalks to the bed. “I enjoy opening my own presents, Red. C’mere. Scoot your ass to the edge of the bed,” gulping, you follow instructions, too eager. “There’s my good girl,” your eyes glaze over as you stare up at him owlishly. His hands reach towards you, and pulls one worn out boot off before the other. Throwing them both carelessly in the room.
Those thick calloused hands rub over your thighs before his lips attach to your skin. Curtis keeps his eyes directly on you as he kisses his way up your legs. Alternating between each leg painfully slowly before he drags your dress up. His eyes leave yours, and he looks between your spread thighs. Licking his lips at the prettiest pair of itty bitty panties he’s ever seen.
He doesn’t have to wonder if you want this. Your thighs are soaked with your arousal, and your cunt is pulsing through that sheer thong. “You’re already shivering,” instead of your nickname, he whispers your real name. He fully plants himself on his knees before he lifts you up to a sitting position, and attacks your mouth with his own.
This kiss is full of tension. A kiss that you have fought for, for days. He can’t even contain his own neediness as he licks along your lips, and you grant him the access to taste your tongue. He swirls his tongue around yours, and sucks on the muscle. Keeping you just occupied enough for him to reach to the bottom of your dress, and he pulls away long enough to rip the confinement off, and then he’s back.
His hips thrust into air, needing a form of friction that he’s denying himself, and only to pleasure you. To make sure that you realize that you’re first in this equation. That there is nothing that he won’t do to ensure that you are pleasured. His hands grope and prod at your ample chest, and he pulls away from your mouth to kiss and nip along your neck. Chest heaving you reach a hand to his swollen cock, but he flicks you away.
You can appreciate his need to pleasure you, but you want to feel. You want to know that he’s just as turned on as you. Reaching behind your body, he uses one hand to undo your bra, and he slings into the floor. Leaning back, he admires you. His own chest rising and falling with so much heat that you know you’re not imagining things.
“Fuck, look at you, Red. All for me. This is all for me, right?”
“Y-y-yeah,” he leans forward, using himself to lean you back into the bed before he kisses down your body. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, while his hand tweaks the other, and too quickly he continues his course down your body. You rarely let men go down on you. You don’t want them looking too long at your body, but with Curtis, you can’t even think straight. You don’t have a thought in your mind, but wanting his mouth firmly planted on your heat.
He doesn’t stop to remove your panties, no, he desperately kisses over the ruined sheer fabric. Like he couldn’t wait the few seconds it would take to remove the thong. Like he would die without knowing what you taste like. His tongue flattens over your core, and your back arches off the bed.
God, you want him on your bare flesh. You need him there. Need him to suck on your clit, and fuck you with his fingers. You. Need. Him. “Curtis,” he chuckles, and the vibrations make your toes clench. “Stop playing around.”
“Such a needy little thing. You gonna be my sweet little slut?”
“Yes!” At this moment, there is nothing you wouldn’t do for him. “Please just touch me.”
You miss him taking a deep inhale before slowly letting the air out of his lungs. You miss him biting at his lip because the second that his fingers touch that thin material at your hips, your eyes close softly. He isn’t playing. In your moment of thankful pleasure, you don’t see his blue eyes go soft as he peels you out of those panties. You don’t see his breathing stutter as he stares at you naked in his bed. Spread open, and begging for him.
You could never know the years he has spent dreaming of there being a time that you would be in his bed. Pleasuring you, pleasuring him, pleasuring each other. But more importantly, loving. He is one that never thought he was good enough for you, and it’s why he stayed away. You deserved some rich man that would spoil you. But maybe his love is enough for you. That you didn’t require all these materialistic things that your mother wanted for you. That you solely just wanted him.
And he’s tired of pretending that you aren’t everything that he’s ever wanted. Sassy attitude that doesn’t take shit from no one. A woman that claims she doesn’t need love, but gets all soft when he mentions it. Someone that claims that sex is only for pleasure, when he’s barely touched you, and you are putty in his hands. Curves that need to be openly touched. Worshiped. Not only are you perfect, but so is your body. Everything about you is his biggest fantasy.
And now you’re spread out before him like a meal he has always wanted. “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” you’re anything but sweet. But you sure do obey him without any questions. Wrecked before he’s even begun. He lifts up your legs, and rests them on his shoulders. Curtis’ dips lower between your spread legs, giving you not much to look at but his eyes that are blown wide with lust, and a predatory grin that a wolf would be envious of.
He licks one stripe through your slit, and you swear you could come undone from that alone. “Mmm,” he licks his lips, letting you see all of him before leaning forward, and devouring you. He licks, nips, and sucks at your bundle of nerves with no decorum. The noises he makes loudly and proudly, just like a man starved. Like a man that hasn’t had anything to drink in months, and his only survival is your juices.
Your body thanks him in kind. Leaking onto the bed, and he just slurps up every drop of honey that your body gives him. Your body meets his every move as it rocks up over and over again. Such a pretty sight. Curtis wears your thighs like earmuffs all the while he has some crazed look on his face at just how delectable you taste. You could drown him, and suffocate him, and he would die from the taste of your pussy every day of the year.
This is how he wants to spend his life, worshiping at the altar of your delicious cunt. Everyday he needs to taste you. Every day he needs to know that your body gets completely soaked just thinking about his mouth on you. You let out a shrill scream when he pushes three fingers into you. Not even hesitating for your body to adjust to the thick intrusion because you can handle it. Your walls are slicked up and accommodate him perfectly.
You writhe and pick up your own pace, not even realizing that he has stilled. He just kitten licks and sucks on your swollen clit. You do the rest of the work, fucking yourself on his fingers. Both of you are just as desperate for the other, and this is the moment that every single wall has been shattered, and you both know just how much you have needed the other.
Nothing has ever been so perfect. Nothing has ever made him feel more complete than that sounds coming off your kiss swollen lips. Bucking your hips in a need to get off more than you ever had before. Your tits bounce with every move you make, and his free hand cups one, and pinches the nipple. Your walls flutter around his fingers, and he smirks at your comment earlier. He’s about to get you off on his mouth, when nobody else ever has. And not just getting you off, you are dying for release.
This perfect view. This immaculate sight of your body rippling with every move of your hips. Your eyes clench close, and your mouth opens to a silent scream, pace quickening until the sound of his name tears off your lips in the most pornographic way. Your cunt holds his fingers in a vice grip as they pulse around his digits.
Your breath hasn’t even regulated before Curtis crawls up your body. He settles his weight onto you, and he thrusts into you. Boxer briefs still cover his body, but he’s just as needy to get off, and you let him take. Let him demand a release without friction. Simulating fucking has never been so hot, and then his soaked beard and mouth find yours and you kiss him with no abandon. Gripping onto his back, and scratching down his spine and you swallow every wanton moan and groan that flows off his lips.
Nothing has ever been more hot than Curtis needing something that he is refusing himself so much. You would gladly let him spear you with his cock, but all the while whatever this is, is so fucking hot. You will long for the day that you can have him, but you will never forget the day that Curtis wet humped onto your sated body. You are relaxed and willing him to just get off. Let his cum add to the mess between your legs.
“Curtis,” you whimper through the kissing. “Baby, let go,” and instantly he spews against your pussy, and you gasp as he leans back. You don’t know what passes between the two of you as you watch his mouth fall open and moans of his release fan across your face, but you want to experience this again. He is beautiful. Perfect even.
The two of you stare at each other panting, and you don’t even want to break the spell. You want to make a joke about next time just sticking it in, but you can’t. There’s an odd understanding that happens between the two of you. Too much information and feelings, and also not enough. But this moment will forever be engrained in your mind. And this bed will never be the same.
“I should, should get a washcloth to clean you.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“Me neither.”
“This one time — don’t,” Curtis releases a quick breath of air, but nods his head. So many unsaid words pass between you. It’s too much. Feelings are too much and racing in between you. You’ll worry about what this all means tomorrow. Or maybe it means nothing. Maybe it just means that you’re done fighting. Why fight when there is this to gain from giving up. You’ve fought too long, and this prize is too precious.
As if knowing you’ve given up, he lays his head on your chest, and you sigh. This entanglement will be the way you fall asleep. And you hope that this is the way you fall asleep every night. For the rest of your life. Entangled in him.
You were supposed to be with them. You and Andy always said everything was going to be done as a family. But when there’s a worldwide disaster, and you weren’t at home to get on a bus to an underground safety, you’re left above. And alone. Confused doesn’t even begin to detail the thoughts in your head. Nothing makes sense. Not even the man that has decided he was going to hitch himself to you in search of the community where your family is. And why were you three so special to be chosen? And what does Mark/Steve/Ari want with you? And what exactly could go wrong being two of the last few thousand people left alive. Humans were never meant to be isolated. And sometimes unlikely friendships and emotions take over…
Who's the one you're trapped with to find your husband?
