not even take it out desiré doue x reader smut
Warnings: french stereotypes, clothes-on sex, mentions of oral sex (male receiving), feet on mouth (just kisses), thigh fucking (i love those thighs so much it's not fair)
Author's notes: Ugh, that smile completely melts me, I need to make him suffer.
“You’re just teasing me, you’re not going to suck me off.” He says above you, sprawled out on your bed, looking down just enough to meet your gaze when you look up, smiling.
“I’m not.” You say simply, turning your attention back to his thighs—muscular, ridiculously big, and glossy, which really caught your attention. To tell the truth, you were even jealous; they were much more appetizing to you than his cock, which is why you’d been biting, sucking, and licking them up until now, delighting in running your tongue over the salty skin. Even if there isn't exactly any pleasure in it for him, Desiré still let out small gasps when your teeth grazed the inside of his thighs, showing just how sensitive the skin is there. Again, absurdly delicious.
“It’s cruel.” He limits himself to saying, knowing he shouldn't insist that you suck him; you’d already made it very clear that you aren't a fan of oral sex and that you wouldn't easily change your mind with him. One day, maybe, you’d give him a blowjob, but that would have to wait, and he’d have to behave very well to deserve it.
You take a little longer licking his legs, feeling the muscle against your tongue, the musk getting stronger every time you went dangerously close to the bulge in his underwear. Desiré shows annoyance, running his hands through your hair, massaging it at the same time he pulls; he knows he’s looking down, waiting for you to at least do something for him.
“If you close your eyes, you can imagine that I’m sucking you.”
“I don’t want to imagine.” He makes you laugh and look up once more, seeking his face. It’s arousing, the way he looks at you from below, staring at you.
It’s so arousing, in fact, that you decide to tease him a little.
“I’d take it out with my teeth.” You simulate pulling the waistband of his underwear like that, dragging the fabric between your teeth. “I’d pull it out and start with the head.” You let the elastic snap back against his skin, smiling at his exasperated gasp. “I’d kiss it, look at you.” You move up slowly, staring at him, observing how his mouth is slightly open, almost drooling.
“Fuck. Don’t talk like that.” He says while helping you get settled on his lap, running his hands over your thighs, moving down to squeeze your ass.
“I could, but honestly, I wouldn't even take your cock out.” He furrows his brows, confused by what you said.
You tell him to lie down, settled into your sheets, sprawled out on your bed. Your palm goes firm against his chest to steady yourself as you mount him, making your knees resist a little, leaving your vagina perfectly centered over the head of his cock, which is erect, poking through his underwear. It makes contact with your clitoris and you summon the courage to move, squatting on top of him and rubbing yourself against the front of your panties, right over the head of your clit, savoring the contact it makes with your sensitive spot.
“This is good… I just want you like this.” You say, whispering very close to his face. You smile at his expression—almost one of pain, his eyebrows arched and a hint of a pout on his lips.
“This is cruel. You’re mean, mon cœur..”
You laugh even more at that, letting his hand venture into your hair, interlacing his fingers at the roots and pulling lightly; his hot tongue against the sensitive skin of your neck makes you moan, speeding up the rhythm of your hips.
“I can cum like this, can’t you?” You ask all innocent, pretending to see how Doué’s face fills with disbelief, and even a little panic at the thought that he won't be able to fuck you tonight. Hesitant, he nods negatively, showing he can't cum just from this.
It’s a pity, then.
“You should. You should cum just from me grinding on your lap.” Looking at him, you think a quiet ‘please’ might escape his lips, but you don't give him time to repeat it. “So few can have me like this… and you aren't satisfied with what I give you?”
You move your hand to squeeze his chin, holding his gaze fixed on yours, admiring how it starts to cloud over, accepting your dominance. Stuttering, he begins: “Let me— Please.”
“What?”
Believing it to be almost a permission, he turns you over calmly, climbing on top of you between your legs.
“Desiré…” You warn in a severe tone; he should know well that he shouldn't disobey you, don't try to get on top when you clearly don't want him like that.
“Relax.” He gives you that mischievous smile, the one that brought you both here. “I just want to make you feel good, that’s all I’m here for, right?” The malicious tone doesn't convince you at all, still full of confidence, of arrogance.
“Good thing you know.” You say, going with your hand to his brown nape, scratching and hearing almost a purr from him.
Once positioned above you, he spreads your legs and puts himself between them, with his covered cock right in front of your naked vagina. Imitating what you did before, he starts to rub, taking advantage of the springy waist he has to do a slow and delicious grind.
“It’s good, isn't it?” He speaks, and you don't have the courage to deny it. You prefer to moan sweetly, looking into his brown eyes and giving a closed-mouth smile. His large hand takes your foot, placing it on his shoulder and giving it kisses, scraping his tongue lightly. And you, who were never really interested in that, like it; you like the sight of that beautiful man kissing your feet, making an effort to give you pleasure.
“If you make me cum like this, I’ll let you fuck me afterwards.” It comes out as a whisper from your mouth, like a promise, and you smile once more as his rhythm increases, humping against you even though there’s little pleasure in it for him. The sensitive fabric against your clitoris is divine and enough, his anxiety and determination turn you on too, and soon you cum, moaning loudly and making every face possible, looking to drive him crazy.
As soon as you come down from the high, his anxious hands already go for your panties, looking to remove them before your foot, which was previously being kissed, now pushes his chest away, denying him permission.
“But you said—” Desiré has that abandoned puppy look that just makes you want to mess with his head even more.
“Give me a little time, go take a shower first.” You say, being mean to him once again. You don't need time to recover, no. But just thinking about him perfumed, clean, already makes up for the time you'll have to wait. “It turns me on, a man fresh out of the shower, with a wet back, smelling like soap.”
He laughs, incredulous, not believing it. “Isn't it just because I'm French?”
The joke doesn't go unnoticed; you yourself have made many jokes about him; even though Desiré distances himself quite a bit from that stereotype, it's still fun to see the indignation on his face.
“No… Of course not…” You speak playfully, shaking your head and pushing him even further off the bed.
His head seems to light up with an idea, that same smile spreading across his mouth. “Come with me.”
You pause for a moment, consider the idea, and to convince you, he massages your foot, moving his hand up to your calf where he also gives it a squeeze. He adds: “I’ll behave.”
Alright, you’re easily convinced. A good Frenchman always makes you go weak.