he’s so soft after. won’t let you move until he’s wiped you down, gotten you water, and kissed every inch of your skin. his voice drops to a whisper, all gentle “you okay, baby?” and “you did so good for me.”
on you? your mouth. not just for oral—he watches the way you speak, kiss, whimper. it drives him crazy. on him? his arms. he likes wrapping them around you while he’s deep inside, keeping you close like you’re something precious.
he likes cumming inside, let’s be real. it feels intimate, possessive in a way he’d never admit out loud. “mine.” also loves seeing it leak out afterward—he finds it unfairly hot.
he doesn’t talk a lot, but when he does? it’s devastating. “you’re making such a mess on me,” or “look at you, taking it so well.” low, rough voice in your ear. it’ll undo you.
not super experienced, but eager to learn. everything is trial and error with him—and he loves when you guide him with soft “just like that, Chris.” he stores your reactions like gospel.
missionary, but with your legs pressed up against his chest so he can get deeper. eye contact, breathy moans, hand wrapped around your throat. he wants to feel everything.
a little awkward beforehand—he gets shy when initiating—but once things start, he’s all heat and focus. if something funny happens mid-hookup? he’ll definitely laugh, kiss your forehead, and keep going.
he keeps things trimmed and clean, nothing too fancy. probably doesn’t care too much about body hair, on himself or you. as long as you’re comfortable, he’s into it.
high. insanely high. sex with Chris isn’t just about pleasure—it’s about trust. he looks at you like you hung the stars, touches you like you’ll slip away if he’s not careful.
he does it, but it’s not the same without you. he’ll do it while thinking about the exact noises you made last time, the way your hips moved, the way you whispered his name. he probably records voice notes from you for this reason.
possessiveness. praise. light choking (with consent). he likes when you wear his clothes—especially when they end up bunched around your waist. he’s got a soft spot for lingerie, too, especially if it’s pink.
he likes the bedroom. private, safe, yours. but there’s something about the backseat of his car at night, fogged-up windows, music playing low… he’s tempted.
your moans. the way you look at him. his name falling from your lips like a prayer? instant hard-on. and if you’re being a brat or teasing him in public? yeah. he’ll make you pay for it later.
he’s super respectful. he won’t degrade you unless it’s specifically something you like. anything that feels disconnected or impersonal? hard no. sex with him has to mean something.
he loves giving. loves. will spend forever between your thighs, hands gripping them like you’re his lifeline. he wants to make you beg, cry, shake. and he’s so good at it.
he starts slow. builds you up. listens to every breath you take and every tremble in your voice. when he’s close? he gets rougher, messier, desperate.
if you’re needy and he’s in the mood? absolutely. he’ll pull you into the bathroom at a party or take you apart in the car. he loves the rush, especially if you’re whispering “be quick, someone could see.”
he’s cautious, but a little risk? hot. public teasing, semi-public stuff like hands under a table, or silent moaning while someone’s nearby? he lives for it.
he’s got the endurance of a man possessed. one round? nah. he’s gonna keep going until you say stop. he likes watching you get tired before he does.
he’s curious. maybe a vibrator to use on you, handcuffs if you’re into it. he doesn’t need them, but he’ll definitely try anything that makes you squirm.
he’s quiet but deadly. will tease you until you're begging for it. and he’ll say “what’s the magic word?” with that smug little smirk. absolute menace.
low growls, breathy curses, little “fuck, baby…” moans against your throat. he tries to stay quiet, but he whimpers when you tighten around him. and you love it.
he once asked you to sit on his face while watching a movie, just to see if you could stay quiet. you did not. he hasn’t stopped bringing it up since.
he’s packing—not just in size, but in intensity. it’s not about how big he is (though he’s decently thick), it’s the way he uses it, the eye contact, the grip on your waist, the way he says your name.
he’s always aching for you. sex isn’t a casual thing for him—it’s emotional. he touches you like he’s been missing you for months, even if you just saw each other this morning.
he falls asleep with his face in your neck, hand resting on your hip, still humming a little. the kind of sleep that only happens when he knows you’re safe in his arms.
tlist: @mattswifeyy @dolliraez
