cw: on hickeys and places to leave them. smut but no piv penetration. fingering.
“You’re leaving too many,” you whine.
Out of your mouth comes another groan, but the truth is you don’t want Xavier to stop - not the kneading of your breasts from behind, his hands slipped beneath your oversized t-shirt and his thumbs stroking over your pebbled nipples, nor the soft press and suck of his lips on your exposed skin. His teeth have found so many places to nibble along the nape of your neck, the curve of your shoulder, and now are working their way along the curve of your jaw, still from behind, and your back arches with every new spot, your head swimming in pleasure.
Whatever efficiency you thought you’d have tonight has shrunken to probably a quarter of your projected productivity. You don’t know what possessed you to let him get behind you as you worked on your laptop, but you sorely regret it… or perhaps you don’t, because the fact of the matter is that you feel good, with the warmth of your back pressed to his chest, the pressure of his chin on your shoulder, and his ever-working hands, his curious tongue.
“I’m not leaving enough,” he murmurs, kissing your earlobe. The hand on your left breast releases it finally, then trails along the length of your abdomen to rest onto your lap.
“You want my career to fall apart,” you moan, but your eyes are closing and your back is arching as you extend your neck slightly backwards; he kisses your cheek and chuckles against it.
“I want you to get a good night’s rest.”
“By riling me up?” You mewl as his finger slips below the waistband of your cotton shorts, searching, then finding what he’s looking for. The tap of the pad of his finger on your clit sends a jolt of desire through you, sudden and selfish.
“By relaxing you. Perhaps an important part of a bedtime routine.” The palm of his right hand presses onto the front of your neck, covering the spots that you know will bloom overnight.
“What’s relaxing about this?” The thrum of your voice on his palm thrills him and you can feel his arousal press hard and hot against your lower back.
“You’ll find out soon enough. Close your laptop and put it away.”
The order, said softly, doesn’t make it less direct and demanding. You take a deep breath, one that runs through your entire being, and push it onto the coffee table beside you as he moves you flatter against him.
You slump slightly, letting his voice guide you and his body support your weight. Xavier turns your head towards him and takes you in an unfairly breathtaking kiss.
“Baby…” he whispers, once you part. Your voice is breathy with slowed, deep breathing as his fingers start to work a bit faster.
His hand passes through your closed thighs - you part them obediently, and he cups your pussy in his hand.
“All mine,” he murmurs, and he presses another kiss to your neck that will bloom like a flower by morning. Smooth fingers pass through your slit, soaking up your arousal. “You’re eager.”
There’s still a modicum of fight left in you.
“I was also busy,” you quip. He chuckles, slipping two fingers in your hole first, making you gasp, then swallowing the gasp with his mouth. When you’re quiet, breathless yet again, he passes his slick fingers over your lower lip.
He pokes a finger into your soon parted lips, then slips both into his mouth. You’re reminded of royal food tasters for a moment, and then his fingers are back, pumping and teasing faster. Your moans are faster, louder, until they reach crescendo, and his hard working digits are soaked more thoroughly, a meal fit for a king.
“Xavier!” you cry out his name, his delight, trembling for him.
“That’s not…” your voice trails off, still needy, wanting more, much more than a few simple marks.
“Sleepy already?” he says, nuzzling your cheek as if he’s nothing more than a harmless pet.
“Y-you know what you’re doing,” you remind him.
He nods, pulling you into a more careful, close embrace, and suddenly you’re lifted like nothing off your couch. Maneuvering you into his hold, he takes note of your lust-softened features and smiles.
“I’m just taking you to bed, aren’t I?”
You slap weakly at his chest, and he laughs.
“I honored your request to stop with the hickeys.”
He guides you sideways into the bedroom before laying you onto the bed. You watch him, your lower lip pulled between your teeth as he pulls off his shirt, desire obvious in your eyes.
You watch him fold his shirt, then pull yourself onto your knees, moving to the edge of the bed, and dragging him in gently by the waistband of his sweatpants.
“You can leave hickeys in other places.”
He smiles, without teeth but with just as much bite. “Don’t worry. I know.”
