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18+ 3k ghoul x f!reader. cunnilingus/face sitting, overstim, pet names, clothed/naked sex, creampie. gif credit. prompt list. written for this ask. thank you! 🖤
The Ghoul—Cooper, as you know him now—does not make himself an easy man to get to know. He was harsh with you from the start, one of the crankiest old bastards you’ve ever met. An accomplishment, given your life in the slums. He’s dismissive, angry that you even want to know him, and downright mean most days.
And yet you became fascinated with him.
It was ages before you were able to hold decent conversations, and longer than that before you had a name for him. Still, you keep digging. He intrigues you more than anyone else ever has, and despite his sour attitude, he keeps coming back.
"You won't like what y'find," he told you one day. You knew then you were wearing him down with your persistence.
"What scares you more: the idea that I won't, or the possibility that I will?" You'd asked.
He laughed. "Y'don't scare me, sugar."
You smiled. "Maybe I should."
Cooper started to look at you differently from then on. There had been a sense before that he was observing you as something ephemeral, a flower bud he was waiting to see bloom and die away as quickly as you'd appeared.
Once you made it clear you weren't going anywhere, the invisible walls between you began to fall away. You feel his gaze lingering on you when he thinks you aren't paying attention. You watch him in turn, holding his gaze whenever he catches you.
"Eye contact like that'll get'cha killed someday. Predators take it as a challenge," he tells you, adjusting the holster on his thigh.
"Is that what you are?" You ask from where you’re leaning against the wall, arms crossed. You raise your brow, inured to his broody one-liners. "A predator?"
To your surprise, he's the one who closes the distance this time. His footfalls are heavy, his swagger loose. He looms over you, bracing his forearm on the wall behind you. Your heart skips a beat. He rarely ever gets so close.
"I'm the worst kind there is," he says gravely, but you clock his tone for what it is. He's toying with you.
Undeterred, you square your shoulders. "And what kind is that?"
He leans in closer, smelling of oil and gunpowder. "A hungry one," he says, the heat of his breath ghosting your cheek.
Pushing you away hasn't turned you against him. Cornering you won't either. Despite his insistence to the contrary, you're no prey animal. "Well then... I s'pose you ought to have something to eat."
His radiation scarred lips spread slowly into a wicked smile. "Y'offering, sweetcheeks?" He asks, his yellowed teeth parted, poised to take a bite.
You swallow dryly, so keenly aware of the thundering of your own heart, you wonder if he can hear it, too. You tip your head back, jutting your chin out and bringing your lips closer to his.
"You don't scare me, Coop," you whisper, wielding his name like a secret weapon.
He hums, head tilting slowly while his gaze moves down your body in a leisurely calculating sweep. "Well..." He drawls, voice a low rumble from his chest. "Maybe I should."
You're ready for him to do as he's always done and leave you like that, to rile you up and then act as though it was all in your head. You've accepted that Cooper is a man on the run, and he hasn't seen anything in you worth stopping for.
The press of his lips against yours shocks you to your core.
Your arms uncross, hands fumbling to catch hold of his jacket, grabbing him before he can vanish. He responds in kind, cupping your face in the soft worn down leather of his gloves. Your pulse is all the way up in your throat, so wild you’re sure he can taste it when he slips his tongue into your mouth.
His touch isn’t a gradual thing. He’s upon you all at once, forcing your thighs apart with his knee and slotting his thigh between yours, pressing into you until you start to sing for him, those breathy little noises muffled by his devouring kiss. At your hip, you feel the press of his cock gradually filling out beneath the layers of clothing between you.
After so long without meaningful touch, the onslaught is dizzying. You roll your hips, grinding down on his thigh until you feel your underwear clinging wetly to your skin, an exquisite shiver trilling up and down your spine. His lips feel textured and hardened by his condition, but his tongue is hot and smooth, persistently licking into your mouth, determined to feel, to taste.
That hunger drives him from your lips to your jaw, your throat, peppering rough kisses that are as much lips as they are teeth along your neck. “S’your last chance, darlin’. Point of no return,” he tells you, voice coarse. His hand slips between your bodies and starts working your pants open. “Won’t be no comin’ back from this. I’ll ruin you.”
That he would have the audacity to warn you away from the door like this after you’ve been knocking and knocking and knocking is almost laughable. You would laugh if you had enough air in your lungs, but he’s kissed it out of you.
“So ruin me,” you tell him breathlessly. He grazes his teeth over your pulse-point in a way that makes your voice hitch. “I want you.”
The rim of his hat brushes your cheek as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, making a raw noise against your skin. “God damn it,” he says, yanking you from the wall so sharply you gasp. He whirls you around, hands fisted in your shirt, kissing you hard while he walks you backwards, towards the noisy heap of springs and fabric you call a bed.
“Y’outta your fuckin’ mind for that,” he grouses, shoving your pants down off your hips. You don’t disagree, You know how terrifying he should be, what his affliction does to him, to his hunger, but you don’t care. Not when he’s kissing life back into your dull dusty life at the end of the world.
You’re naked by the time he pushes you down onto the bed, standing above you, sunken eyes black with fervor. He unclips the bullet belt strapped across his chest and shrugs out of his coat, tosses his hat up somewhere high on the bed. You start to crawl backwards, but he snatches your ankle and drags you right back to the very edge of the bed.
“Unbuckle me,” he orders, the words all throaty feverish heat that makes your clit throb. You do, eyes flipping back and forth from him to his belt. He watches you all the while, pulling off his gloves with his teeth, dropping them to the ground. You unbutton his pants next, hands so eager they fumble briefly before you make it to his zipper, the hiss of it coming undone drowned out by the thunder of your pulse in your own ears.
Before you get any further, Cooper catches your wrists and hauls you up to your feet, spinning you around and pulling you down over top of him on the bed. He keeps you steady while you straddle his waist, moving his hands from your wrists to your hips. You start to move back, but he cups your ass and pulls you in the opposite direction.
“Saddle up, sweetheart,” he says, licking his lips. “Y’said for me to have somethin’ t’eat. I intend to.”
Oh fuck.
Nodding hazily, you follow his lead until your knees are on either side of his head, your hands braced on the wall behind your bed.
“C’mon now, relax,” he coaxes, urging you down with his grip on your thighs. You settle most of the way down before he yanks you the rest of it, startling a noise out of you that transitions into a low moan at the molten wet slide of his tongue dragging from the bottom of your pussy to your clit, upon which his lips close down and suck.
The sensation is leagues beyond the amateurish grinding, but that session still left you sensitized. The heat of his mouth is so intense it almost burns. His tongue feels just as unreal, thick and dexterous in the way it works you, swirling repetitive patterns on your clit. He drinks from you like you’re an oasis in the desert, swallowing greedy gulps before sinking his tongue into you, fucking it in and out, coaxing more and more thirst quenching wetness from you.
“Ffffuck, oh my God,” you moan, your hands curling into fists on the wall, sliding until your forearms are braced against it instead, your head hanging between them. You wish you had something to grip, something to dig your nails into as his devil’s tongue builds hot pressure inside of you, swelling sensation toward an inevitable explosion.
Cooper is shameless beneath you, devouring without care for mess or noise. Every so often you feel the graze of his teeth and you buck away from him, but you’re no match for his strength and he keeps you held firmly down, wholly at his mercy despite your positions.
Once he’s satisfied that you’re not going to try and escape anymore, he relinquishes his hold on your hip and brings his fingers between your thighs, teasing where you’re wettest with the tip of his finger. With the way he’s sucking your clit you barely notice the initial touch, but he quickly wrings a gasp out of you by sinking his finger in all the way to the knuckle, crooking it wickedly while he rocks it in and out.
It’s simultaneously too much and not enough. He walks you on the knife’s edge of your climax, deftly toeing the line with every slow stroke of his finger and swipe of his tongue. Your stomach clenches up with it, breath catching. He pushes in a second finger, and by the time you feel the third working you open, your legs are shaking uncontrollably. He is feasting on you, humming appreciative little noises between the wet sounds of him eating you out.
A sudden jarring slap to your ass makes your quivering thighs tense up and startles a loud moan out of you. He most definitely smiles against you, fucking you steadily with his fingers.
“You son of a bitch,” you manage to choke out, tears prickling at your eyes from the sheer overwhelm of it all, your breaths growing sharper, more shallow. “I should smother you,” you say, the threat dulled by the thinness of your voice.
He smacks your ass again, harder this time. You decide that’s encouragement to do just that and grind down against his mouth, eagerly meeting every thrust of his fingers until one last good slap tips you over the edge, your orgasm striking you like a bolt of lightning. Your whole body goes tense, and Cooper ruthlessly fucks and licks you through it, sucking on your clit as it pulses and pulses and pulses through what feels like the longest climax of your life.
“Enough,” you moan weakly, pushing yourself from the wall on trembling arms. His fingers have slipped free, but he’s still drinking you down, holding your thighs in a vice grip. You can’t stop shaking, the burn of pleasure beginning to feel like the most exquisite pain. “C-Coop, enough, I can’t–you fucker,” you gasp, jolting in his grip when he nips at your clit.
He finally lets you up, easing you down with two hands firmly on your ass. You slide back until you’re straddling his waist, hands braced on his chest while you catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time, knocking you down into his lap as he sits up. He takes your face in his hands and kisses your own taste into your mouth, giving a throaty little rumble.
“I decide when you’ve had enough,” he says, dropping one hand to work his cock free from his undone pants. “And you’ll remember that you asked for it.”
Each word feels like a spark of electricity. You lift yourself on trembling knees, hands on his shoulders, and he puts his arm around you, drawing you in while you sink down until you feel the thick head of his cock–wet with his own precum–nudging against your spit-soaked pussy.
“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me how good you can take me.” You can hear the restraint in his voice, feel it in the thrum of his touch. You hold his gaze while his cock forces you open in one smooth, frictionless slide, the stretch a dull ache that rapidly ascends into pleasure. He lets you adjust a moment or so before he begins to move, holding your hips steady while he rocks his own, reclining down onto his back.
“Don’t you hold out on me,” you tell him through a shuddered breath, hands behind you, braced on his thighs. “You promised me ruin.”
As sharply as he’d slapped your ass, Cooper gives a hard thrust up, his dull nails biting crescents into your skin, his grip all that keeps you from losing your balance. “One taste and y’already damn spoiled,” he says, planting his boots on your bed–you’ll give him shit for that later–and picking up a brutal pace almost immediately. “C’mon then, sweetheart. Ride me.”
You have no choice but to comply, grabbing hold of what you can of his shirt while he bucks hard under you. Every thrust sparks inside you like the strike of a match, your cunt still sensitive. You can already feel yourself climbing towards another peak. You arch your back, watching him through the haze of your own pleasure. His eyes are dark, his teeth bared. He looks like something wild, like something ready to bite.
“Goddamn, that’s it, y’squeezin’ me fuckin’ good now,” he groans, tipping his head back, watching you bounce on his cock through heavily lidded eyes. “Give it up for me, pretty girl. Show me this is really what you want,” he rambles, his accent growing thicker the closer he gets. You nod along, panting wordlessly, his thrusts knocking sweet little keening noises from your throat. “Go on now, that’s it. Show me how it feels when I make you cum.”
The world around you goes black just before an eruption of white explodes behind your eyelids like stars, your whole body stilling to endure the overwhelming crash of your release, the shock of it rolling out in waves throughout your entire body. You don’t speak, you don’t even breathe, too struck by the magnitude of it.
Cooper fucks you through every second of it, slurring a litany of feverish nonsense–your name sprinkled within it–until he breaks off into a choked off noise, and in the middle of your euphoria you feel a the rush of his release spilling deep inside you, his body finally stilling under yours.
You sink down onto his chest, panting against the collar of his shirt. He moves his hand along your back, and a distant part of you is caught off guard by how tenderly he sweeps his fingers up the back of your neck. You answer in kind by slipping your fingers just under his collar, fingertips brushing bare skin that’s as gnarled as the rest of him.
The two of you sit in silence for a long while, neither of you willing to break the spell of your afterglow. The entire world feels softer in it, the dull sepia of it tinged with hints of gold. The dust particles floating around you almost seem to sparkle. In any other moment, you’d scold yourself for romanticizing the rotten remains of a dead world that has been so cruel to you, but for just this moment, you let yourself believe that things can be beautiful, too.
You lose yourself to the warmth of his body beneath yours, and the gentle way he traces the slopes of your body with his fingertips. Eventually, Cooper cleans his throat. You ignore it, reluctant to acknowledge him. You know once you do, the moment will be over.
“Y’might wanna get situated with a pack of Radaway soon,” he murmurs, the twang of his voice still heavier than usual.
Tucked into the crook of his neck, you smile while he still can’t see you, endeared. “I’ve had worse exposures.”
“I find that hard t’believe,” he says, cupping the back of your neck in his palm. His thumb strokes absently back and forth. You can almost believe he’s dragging out these last few moments together, too.
Lifting yourself, you brace your forearms on his chest, staring down at him. His expression is difficult to parse–while there is most definitely a sense of ease you don’t normally associate with him, there’s also a profound sadness.
Your brows furrow. “What?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he moves his hand from your neck to your cheek, swiping his thumb along the ridge of it. You lean into his touch, ready to ask again, when he makes a grab for his hat and places it firmly on your head, obscuring your vision.
“That was some fine ridin’, sweetheart,” he says, voice as coarse and sweet as raw sugar.
You push the brim up until you can see him again, failing to bite back a smile. “Guess I’m the sheriff ‘round these parts now.”
“I ain’t a sheriff," he says flatly, though the slight tic at the corner of his mouth gives away his amusement.
“That’s right, y’ain’t. ‘Cause I am,” you say in your best impression of him, tipping his hat at him.
He blows out a breath and tugs the rim back down over your eyes. “Whatever you say, sweetcheeks,” he says, and though you can’t see him, you’re certain you can hear the smile in his voice.
Today may never happen again. The world could end tomorrow–again–or Cooper could walk off into the Wastes for the very last time. If you’ve learned anything in this world, it’s that nothing lasts forever. So, you drop your head back down and listen to the beat of his heart, using it to count the moments as they pass.
If they’re gonna be the best you get, you’d like to know how many of them you have.
Description: Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson.
Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI or I'll tell your parents, fem reader, thick sexual tension, angst and smut. Fingering.
A/N: I finally wrote it! The teach me fic I've been day dreaming about forever. This will be part one of three, and honestly this is one of the hottest things I've written. If you enjoy it, please comment and reblog, it means the world to me.
8k words
Masterlist Part 2
Screwing your nose up in confusion, you look at the meticulously cut snippet of newspaper neatly attached to your resume with a paperclip. Sure enough, receptionist and administrator wanted for a place called ‘The Ink Shop’.
The outside of the building looks a little bleak, all decked out in black with frosted windows, but the fading lettering above does indeed spell out ‘The Ink Shop’.
Weird. This does not look like a printers.
You smooth down a minor wrinkle in your white shirt and open the door with unsure hands, the bell above ringing out loudly.
Oh.
This is not a printers. This is a tattoo shop.
The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. The noise is a cacophony of buzzing, rock music and loud conversation. Art hangs on every available wall, the wallpaper underneath a royal purple, faded over time. There's frames upon frames of predesigned pieces for people to choose from, and an enormous wooden counter, black and gouged with use, directly in front of the doors.
Taking a confidence boosting breath you march forward, pencil skirt stretching and heels clicking on the black and white linoleum, and stand by the counter. No one seems to have noticed your arrival, and a polite cough is not going to cut it.
“Hello?” Calling out to the shop, a devilishly handsome tattooed man in a ripped band shirt, black jeans and scuffed army boots turns his head. Loose dark curls escape a low bun and swivel with him, framing his animated face. He saunters over to the counter and towers over you, giving you an appraising look.
“You old enough to be in here sweetheart?” He asks, amused, as he points to the sign on the wall that states ‘Strictly Over 21s, no exceptions’.
“Yes?” You're trying to be confident but it comes out as a question, entirely taken aback by the strength of his stare.
“Oh, well then I'm Eddie,” he holds out a hand and you're forced to reach up to shake it, but to your surprise he doesn't let go. The skin is rougher than you thought it would be, and absolutely covered in small tattoos. “What is it today? Let me guess, cover up an ex boyfriend's name? I can help you forget all about him.”
The grin he shoots back is nothing short of predatory. All you can think of is that old childhood song, never smile at a crocodile…
“No, no, I'm here about the job?”
He looks genuinely surprised, taking in your outfit in another flagrant stare.
“Really? You?”
“Yes, me.” You respond, cheeks flushing in annoyance.
“Hey, Mac!” He calls over his shoulder and a big guy with a shaved head lowers his tattoo gun, glancing over at you both. “This girl's after a job?”
Mac stands up slowly and begins to walk over.
“You can let go now princess.”
Staring at Eddie dumbfoundedly, you realise his grip on your hand has softened completely. Whipping your hand away, you flash him a defiant eye. It's ineffective; he merely grins wider and winks at you, poking his tongue out playfully. You see a hint of silver, a tongue piercing.
“Hey there, I'm Mac, the owner.” another handshake, but gentler and brief. You introduce yourself and go to hand him your resume.
A phone rings on the counter and Mac shouts “no!” just as Eddie picks it up.
“Mac’s Roadkill Café, from your grill to ours.” Eddie delivers the line as smooth as silk, never taking his eyes off you. “Yeah, it's Eddie, of course. Oh, I'll tell him. Thanks.”
As Eddie turns to Mac he's given a small but effective slap to the back of the head by Mac.
“What did I tell you, stop answering like that!”
Eddie just grins wider and looks at you again, a fake pout on his full lips.
“You see that? Harassment in the workplace. Wanna kiss it better?”
Mac shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, then turns to face you again.
“Are you immediate start?”
“Er, yeah. I've got my resume, and references here-”
“Listen Miss, if you can read and write, answer a phone, and put up with that-” he says, gesturing a thumb at Eddie, “then you've got the job.”
Thank God, two of those references were your best friend with different names. Stunned, you just nod fast.
“Great. Tomorrow morning. We open at 10am.”
Saying goodbye, you turn to exit, and risk one final glance over your shoulder. Eddie's still at the counter. A disarming wink, and then the door shuts behind you.
********************
So, not exactly what you expected, but a job's a job. After getting a degree, you'd assumed doors would open, but a string of coffee houses later and here you are. You'll take it.
It's 9:30 am, and you stand outside, wondering whether or not to try the door. Keen, but not too keen. It's a line you're trying to toe without much experience, especially with an establishment like this.
A pretty woman with an undercut and a butterfly neck tattoo stirs you out of your calculations.
“Hey, I'm Chloe. You're the new girl, right? Eddie bet you'd be early.”
Blushing at the entirely accurate first impression, you try to stop your nose scrunching in distaste. As if reading your mind, Chloe chuckles.
“Ah, don't worry about him, he's an idiot. Come on, I'll show you the ropes.”
Chloe is the piercer that basically rents a place in the shop, where she's been for around three years, she explains. There's also Julio, who does more realistic tattoo work, and Miranda who works part time.
Chloe turns out to be warm and welcoming, showing you how they book clients in, how to take payments, and the phone note system. It's straightforward work, stuff you'll master in no time. In fact, you feel comfortable enough by 10 am to sit at the counter on your own.
Mac arrives on time, giving you a quick check in and taking down all your information on a yellow legal pad.
“Do you not have a computer in here?” you ask, genuinely puzzled.
“Oh no, not yet. I don't know how to work those things, Miss.” Mac chuckles, and gets to his station to prepare for his first client.
At 10:45 am Eddie walks through the door as if he owns the place.
Your eyes widen at his brazen lateness, but no one seems to bat an eyelid. It boils your blood; to be that disrespectful and clearly not care. How could someone act like that?
“Hey princess, didn't think you'd come back,” he smiles, reaching for your hand.
Oh I'm not falling for that again.
You pull your hand into your lap, expecting trickery from him. A smug grin smears across his face at the gesture, as if he knew you'd do that. It makes you even more annoyed.
“Eddie, the book says you start,” you say, flicking through the tome in front of you, “ah, at 10 am today.”
“It's walk-in Wednesday sweetheart. There's no one here.”
He's got a point. Chloe had explained the tattoo artists work a shift of Wednesdays, someone is always available for walk-ins for small and pre designed pieces. Today is Eddie's turn, and he's right, no one is here.
“Well, there could have been,” you snark back, folding your arms.
He crosses into the shop, pushing the little gate open and stands next to you, arms crossed. The height you had is now lost, forcing you to look up at him.
“As far as I know, you ain't the boss of me. I suggest taking the stick out of your ass before you come here.”
Mouth falling open in outrage, you move to reply but he's already turned away.
“Oh, and princess, there ain't a dress code.”
He's gone, disappearing upstairs. Blushing crimson, you cross your arms as if you can hide the conservative outfit you're wearing.
You're beginning to see why Mac asked if you could put up with Eddie.
********************
Halfway through the day, you realise just why Mac puts up with Eddie.
“Hey! Seeing if I can book with Eddie?”
“Any appointments with Eddie?”
“Just checking to see if Eddie had any cancellations?”
It seems most calls are about him. As you check his schedule, it's not only fully booked for the next 6 months, they've even started a waiting list at the back.
“Any walk-ins?”
The words next to your ear make you jump bodily, almost losing your place on your chair in alarm.
“You scared me! No, I would have said,” turning to him, you're sucked into those deep brown eyes once again. “Why do you do walk-in Wednesdays if you're so… so popular?”
Eddie flashes a smile at you, full of self importance. “I don't know sweetheart, Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle!” Shouting the last part at the back of Mac's head, he turns to you. “We just divided the shifts, so it was fair, that's all. Why, want a tattoo?”
You roll your eyes. “No, I was just wondering.”
“Do you have any, princess?”
“Not that it's any of your business, but no, I don't.”
The laugh that rips from Eddie's chest is hearty and full of amusement.
“You work in a tattoo shop and you don't have any? That's practically blasphemy!”
The little bell above the door rings, and a nervous guy looks around before walking in. Before you see what he wants, you shout to Eddie's retreating back.
“Van Gogh was only famous after he died, you know!”
It's a little later on in the day; you've done a stock take, ordered more ink, and neatened up the consent sheets three times. The phone hasn't rung in a while, and you're bored out of your mind.
Chloe walks over, coat in her hand.
“Hey, how you getting on?”
“I'm good, just bored.”
She laughs, “it's not always this quiet, mid week and all. Mac's done for the day, and I'm heading off. You gonna be OK?”
You glance over to Eddie, who to your surprise is tattooing his own fingers.
“What, with the untrained monkey? I'll live.”
She laughs harder at that, “he's not so bad, once you get to know him.” Lowering her voice, she whispers, “he's good at some things, you know.” The conspiratorial wink fills in what she isn't saying. Cheeks flushed, you gawp at Eddie and back at Chloe.
“Huh? W-what, are you like, an item?” You ask, entirely thrown.
“Oh no, he's not exactly boyfriend material. It was just one night, but bloody hell. Anyway, it's not like that anymore, we're just friends now. Maybe you two should just, you know.”
A blush floods your face, almost reaching the roots of your hair. “I don't- I don't, do that.”
“I'm just saying, it's an option. It'd stop the bickering at least. I can sense the tension from all the way over there.”
Without a further word, she leaves you sitting on your stool, trying to remember how to breathe.
Right, let's just play nice.
Walking over to his station, you try to glimpse what he's tattooing.
“I thought Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle” you quip, trying to keep it light.
“This is different” he responds, not looking up at you.
“You know, that's a waste of a needle.”
Eddie turns the machine off and rolls his eyes at you.
“Who made you Princess of the Needles, hmmm?”
“Mac did actually, when he asked me to check the stock,” you reply hotly, folding your arms. Stopping for a second, you take a breath. Play nice, you're supposed to be playing nice.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to-”
Eddie turns the machine back on and continues with his impromptu tattoo.
“Can't you just be… professional?” You ask over the buzzing.
“Can't you just relax for a second? No ones here. Fuck, you need to get laid.”
Mouth dropping open in shock, you grab your bag and stomp out of the store, anger fuelling every step.
********************
Right, be calm, put together. You've dealt with worse people.
It's true. At the coffee shop you had on edge caffeine addicts shout in your face almost on a daily basis, but none of them got under your skin like Eddie did. Then again, none of them had spat truths like venom in your face.
Breathe. Just breathe.
Taking the leap, you walk into the shop, coffees and a tray of donuts in hand; a small peace offering. To your surprise, he is already at his station, sorting through ink pots.
You make quick work of handing out coffee and donuts to everyone, until you reach his side. There's plastic wrap around one of his fingers, you assume from his little tattoo session yesterday. It only serves to remind you of how tetchy you were.
“Morning Eddie.”
“So you came back. Tough little princess ain't ya? Remove the stick from your ass yet?” The grin he flashes you is wide but there's a bite to his words.
He's trying to rile you up, but you ignore it, thrusting a coffee at him.
“I'll be nice if you will.”
Tension laces the air as he stares at your outstretched hand, but he takes the coffee.
“I'm sorry Eddie.”
Opening the box of donuts, you gesture for him to take one. He does, stuffing half of it into his mouth.
“What about you?” you ask.
“Huh?” He mumbles through a mouthful of crumbs.
“Are you sorry…?”
“What for?”
Setting your jaw, your hand is about two seconds from slapping the shit out of him, but you need the money. So, you huff and walk away.
“What did I do?” He huffs, shouting it to the shop.
“You should just say sorry, you've clearly upset her.” Chloe calls over to him, a slight smile on her face.
“Yeah, how do you know?”
“You upset everyone Eddie.” She laughs, and stands to greet her first client.
It's a tense kind of day, with neither you nor Eddie backing down, only speaking to each other if absolutely necessary. By the time everyone's left it's just you and him again.
He's finishing up with a client, telling them about aftercare as they gush about their new ink. It's difficult to deny, the guy is talented. This phoenix tattoo looks like it's popping right off of the skin, the flames so bright and detailed you could swear you saw them move.
Once they've left, there's an awkward pause. Eddie breaks the silence first.
“Listen, I'm sorry sweetheart. I shouldn't have been rude to you. So I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a tattoo, for free, and we ask each other questions, get to know each other. What do you say?”
Smiling in spite of yourself, you turn to face him. “And why would I want a tattoo?”
He visibly relaxes at your grin, and flashes one of his own. “Come on, I'm the best. I promise I'll be gentle.”
“We close at six, so it'll have to wait.”
Eddie looks at the clock, and bobs his head with each tick. Twenty seconds later he turns to you, eyebrows raised.
“Fine, I suppose it is a bit silly to work in a tattoo shop with no ink.”
He punches the air with glee, forcing you to smile despite your better judgement.
“Well then, what are you thinking, got any ideas in mind?”
“I want a heart on my hip” he groans, putting his face in his hands, “hang on, before you judge, I want one like this.”
Pulling a book from your bag, you turn to the page neatly bookmarked. It's an anatomical heart from a textbook you own, a line and dot drawing.
“Oh.” Eddie's eyes light up, “that's pretty metal, actually. So, you just happen to have this on you?”
“No, I've been thinking about it for a while. It's… not what people would expect. And when I got the job here, I was working up the courage to get it. Carrying around the book was a promise to myself, I think.”
He busies himself with getting a stencil ready, the drawing supplied speeding up the process.
“Right, climb on up princess, show me where you want it.”
Blushing, you unzip your skirt at the back and roll it down slightly, shifting your blouse up high. The smile Eddie gives you is salacious, but he doesn't say a word.
“Right here?” Softly his fingertips graze you, making you jump. That simple act crackles over your skin in an electricity unknown to you.
“Y-yes,” you practically whisper it, face crimson.
“So, questions. Can I go first?”
“Sure” you nod, feeling vulnerable flashing this much skin.
“OK,” he starts, pressing the stencil down, “I'll start with an easy one. How old are you?”
“23.”
He nods, prepping the needle, “your turn princess.”
“How old are you?”
“Ah, copycat,” he grins, testing the gun, the sudden noise making you jump, “I'm 30 sweetheart. I know, I look younger.”
Act younger is more like it.
“I'm gonna start, you still alright?”
“Uh huh.”
“Atta girl. It'll feel like a scratch.”
He leans forward as his words burn your insides. Atta girl? Part of you wanted to tell him you're not a fucking horse, but another, deeper, part keens at the praise, kicking it's feet and twirling its hair like some dizzy schoolgirl.
The needle touches and you jump, but it's fine. It's easy. If anything, it's rather nice? You gasp at the feeling, your feet wiggling.
“Right, next question. Why here, why this job?”
The gun is moving across your skin, consuming all rational thought. You could lie, but a part of you feels like he'd know somehow.
“I thought it was a printers shop, or a copy place.”
He laughs briefly, but continues to focus on your new ink.
“I knew it. Pretty, innocent thing like you, wandering into this den of depravity? Too good to be true.”
Glazing over his comment, you think of a question to ask.
“How did you start working here?”
Eddie scoffs and turns off his machine for a moment, “you need to get creative, stop using my questions.”
“I really want to know!” You say, meeting his derisory look.
“Fine, quid pro quo and all that shit. Been here seven years. I begged. I begged Mac for an apprenticeship everyday for a week. He gave in, and here I am. Ask something else, that was boring.”
You wrack your brains, trying to think of something original, far too aware of the steadying hand that he's pushing onto your abdomen.
“What band is that?”
It's the only thing that pops into your mind. He follows your eye line to his t-shirt.
“Oh this? This is my band, Corroded Coffin. You should come see us sometime.”
“Oh, what do you play?”
His face lights up, “I sing, and play guitar. That's why my fingers are so rough-” he holds one up, covered in black latex, “-oh yeah, gloves.”
After you both share a chuckle, there's a breath of quiet between you, except for the sound of the tattoo gun.
“My turn,” he says, smiling at your hip, “I gotta know, are you a virgin?”
It's a miracle that he's as responsive as he is, since the question knocks you sideways. You sit up in shock, but he's already moved the needle off and away.
“You can't just ask that, it's… it's rude!” you splutter, face glowing red.
There's no trace of apology on his face. In fact, his grin only widens with your reply.
“I thought so. Don't worry, I'm not gonna tease you about it.”
Laying back down, you try to think of something to say, but it just doesn't arrive. He can read you like an open book and it's deeply unsettling, not to mention embarrassing.
“Your turn princess.”
“I don't want to play anymore.”
“Oh come on, I'm being nice! Ask me something.”
“Fine. What was your last wet dream about?”
To your dismay, he smiles yet again.
“You, sweetheart.”
Huffing, you cross your arms in annoyance. “Fine, don't answer.”
He's focusing on your tattoo, tongue poking out in concentration, “I'm nearly done, then you can go back to hating me.”
“I don't hate you. I've never hated anyone,” you respond in truth. Eddie's eyebrows raise, but he remains focused.
“Really? You must have had a much better childhood than mine.”
It's quiet for a bit. You're not sure how to respond to that, feeling the cloud of his memory hanging thickly in the air between you.
“All done.”
“Huh?”
He chuckles and points at your new ink, “take a look.”
It's beautiful. All line and dot work, like it was pulled from the book itself and glued to your hip.
“It's amazing Eddie. Thank you.”
The grin he shoots you is warm as he wraps your new ink and then removes his gloves. “No problem. I'll lock up, the sheets on aftercare are right there. But you knew that.”
Smiling affectionately, you take one and stand up, hovering for a second.
“Eddie what do I owe-”
“-not a damn thing. See you in the morning, princess.”
********************
The next few days were much more pleasant. Eddie was flirty, yes, but he seemed to understand when to stop. You had been nicer to him, biting back on the comments when you could. There was a rhythm to it, a constant dance of him flustering you and you annoying him.
Things really felt like they were falling into place. Until Eddie decided to cross the line.
Walk in Wednesday again, and the shop was dead. Julio was on shift, sitting in the back having a nap.
“Hey Mac, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, what is it Miss?”
“Well, how do people know about our Wednesdays?”
“Mostly word of mouth. We handed out flyers before, but it didn't really pick up. Honestly, I'm thinking of scrapping it.” He shrugs, taking a sip of coffee.
“Before you do, I have an idea. I can design some flyers, get them out to the coffee shop I used to work at. It's by campus, I'm sure a few students would jump at the chance. You could offer a student discount, get them in the door?” You stare at him wide eyed, hoping he likes the idea. The little speech was one you'd practised about fourteen times before actually saying it to him.
He stares at you for a moment, then smiles. “You know, that's a good idea. I like it. Tell you what, you make it a success and I'll give you a raise.”
“Oh, thank you! I'll get on it.” You beam, and start planning the flyer.
Ten minutes later you have your head down, your attention entirely on the paper in front of you. The noisy shop was purely a background soundtrack, including the approaching footsteps. Then, there's a whisper, directly in your ear.
“What you up to, princess?”
“Fuck!”
You scream it out and jump so high you fall off your stool. Eddie's in bits, laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach.
“I'm sorry I didn't mean to,” he says, looking the least sorry you've ever seen a person look.
Clambering off the floor to berate him, your mouth flops open when you hear a rip. As you desperately turn your head to look down, you see where your pencil skirt has torn right next to the seam nearly up to your ass.
“Fuck's sake Eddie! What the hell am I gonna do!”
Hands shaking, you clench your jaw in panic, trying to frantically come up with a way to rectify it. Eddie holds his hands up to you as if he were approaching a wild animal.
“Just calm down princess, it's only a skirt.”
Pouting, you hit him on the arm.
“It's not just a skirt! I can't work like this, how can I go home and change, I won't be able to fix it and-”
Eddie smiles and holds one of your hands.
“It's gonna be OK, we can sort something out. You seriously need to chill, have a big O or something.” He chuckles, clearly meaning for it to be a joke, but it's hitting too close to home.
It's never happened for you. You've kissed guys, sure, but whenever they reach into your pants, it's either uncomfortable or downright painful. Even your own desperate fumblings haven't got you there. Most of the time you just feel stupid and awkward trying to touch yourself. So, you'd given up, thinking you're broken. That it'll never happen for you.
Tears well immediately in your eyes. He knows he fucked up, it's written all over his face. As he opens his mouth to speak you rip your hand from his grasp and run to the restroom sobbing.
It's stupid, it's so stupid. You know that, but the tears won't stop falling, face hot and scrunched as you sit on the closed toilet seat with your head in your hands. Your breath is heavy, gulping and wet; you dimly wonder if you can just stay here until the shop closes.
There's a gentle knock on the door.
“Sweetheart, can I come in?” It's Eddie, voice softer than you've ever heard it.
“Go away” you manage. It's shaky and pathetic sounding, but it's out there.
“I'm not going anywhere. Talk to me, you'll feel better, I promise.”
He tries the door, turning the handle before you get a chance to lock it. Jumping upright, you go to push him away but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into him. His embrace takes away that edge and pretty soon you're just sobbing into his chest.
As he strokes the back of your head, he makes shushing noises, his other arm wrapped tight around your shoulders. You're not sure how long you stay like that, in the warmth of his hold, his body pressed against yours. The tenderness calms you down until your tears stop, but he doesn't pull away.
After a while, he whispers, “feel a little better?”
“Y-yeah,” you say, voice returning to itself.
Only then does he release you, rubbing a thumb under your eye to wipe moisture away.
“I didn't mean to hurt you. You wanna go somewhere and talk about it?”
“I- I've never- I don't talk about- I-” you shake your head as if to clear it. A part of you wants to hit him, to shout at him, but his gaze is so concerned that you agree. Your shoulders slump, losing a bit of tension. “OK.”
Smiling at you, he whips his flannel shirt off, leaving him in a white vest, and ties it around your waist.
“For your modesty. Come with me.”
Puzzled, you follow him out of the bathroom and back into the shop where Mac is sitting looking worried.
“What's going-”
Eddie interrupts, “emergency late lunch needed, alright? Can you cancel my 3 o clock?”
Mac seems confused, but looks at Eddie's earnest face, and your emotional one, and nods.
“Not a problem.”
“Thanks, man.”
Before you can ask where you're going, he pulls you from the shop by the arm and across the street into a dimly lit bar, depositing you in the nearest booth.
“I'll be right back.”
If he's uncomfortable by his appearance, he doesn't show it. The way he strides up to the bar, it's as if he owns the place. It's remarkable, the sheer confidence he embodies like a second skin.
“Hey, John!” He hollers, knuckles knocking on the wood of the bar.
John appears, a gruff, stocky guy with a buzz cut and a sour face.
“What the fuck are you doing here.”
“Oh come on, you know you missed me.”
John's face screws into something akin to a smile. “What do you want, you little shit.”
“I love it when you talk dirty,” Eddie grins and winks, “two beers please.”
A grunt and a nod, and John puts the beers down on the bar. As Eddie reaches for his wallet John waves a hand in dismissal.
“Put that away boy, your money ain't good here. Besides, your lady friend looks like she needs it.”
You flush and tear your eyes away, embarrassed. Eddie walks back over and puts a beer in front of you.
“Eddie, we're still working I-”
“It's one beer. It's alright.”
You shrug and take a sip, nodding at the bartender, “he knows I'm upset, do I look a mess?”
Shaking his head so hard it releases some of his wayward waves from their confines, he tips his beer at you, before he takes a long chug.
“No,” he says enthusiastically, “you look just as pretty as you always do.”
Scoffing, you turn your eyes downward. Eddie ignores your response, instead pressing on what happened earlier.
“Sorry again,” he says, sounding genuinely distressed, "I don't want to see anyone hurt from something I said, least of all you.”
Meeting his gaze, you smile incredulously. “Oh? And why me?”
“Come on, don't make me say it.”
Staring at him, you fold your arms in an act of defiance. He rolls his eyes and looks at you.
“I like you. You're uptight, and mean to me, and a little conceited, but I like you. I don't want you to hurt. Can we just be friends? I'm a pretty good listener, you know? I can help.”
Heat floods your insides. Eyes scanning him for any sign of a joke, you come up empty.
‘I'm not conceited,” you counter weakly, clinging on to the familiar push and pull.
“And I'm the Easter bunny.”
Giggling, you take another sip of beer.
“Come on, friends? Talk to me.”
Sighing deeply, you fix your gaze at the table, forefinger tracing patterns in the condensation from your drink. “Promise not to laugh?”
“I promise.”
You can't tell how genuine he's being, as you don't dare look at his face, nerves controlling your every limb. His voice seems honest enough.
“I- I have a problem, something I can't physically do. You reminded me of it. It's not your fault.” Shrugging in an attempt to make this look less serious than it is for you, you take a pull out of your beer bottle once more.
“Wait, are you saying…” he chuckles a little in disbelief, “have you never… had an orgasm before?”
“Eddie, be quiet!” You urgently whisper, looking around the bar.
“No one's listening sweetheart, no spies in here,” he says in a low tone, hand reaching out to grasp yours. Your first instinct is to shake his hand away but he holds firm, rough fingertips rubbing against your knuckles.
“Eddie, I'm broken,” you whimper, voice breaking, “I can't do it.”
“Oh sweetheart,” he responds, chock full of emotion, “you're not broken. You are perfect.”
Pulling your hand away, you keep your eyes away from his, unwilling to meet that burning gaze of his. Unwilling to lose yourself in those sultry dark eyes.
“I can't do it. Anytime some guy tries, it hurts. I've given up to be honest. I just wasn't made for it.”
He laughs again, dragging his hand over his face.
“Fuck, sweetheart, the problem ain't you. Have you- have you tried, fixing it, on your own?” The last part is a whisper, you assume to protect your feelings.
“Yeah, but I just feel stupid and awkward. I don't know.”
There's a little silence between you as you both dwell in the suffocating fog of your confession, neither of you willing to clear it.
“Listen, this may be way out of your comfort zone, but I'm saying it anyway. If you don't like it, we'll forget it, and I won't mention it again.”
Finally looking at him, at the vulnerability on his face, you nod, not trusting your voice.
“I can… maybe I can help you. Show you you're not broken? As a favour between friends.”
You laugh mirthlessly and finish your beer. “That's a little more than a favour, Eddie.”
“We can keep it professional.”
You stare at him wide eyed. His messy hair and dark glittering eyes. At the way he slumps in his seat like a king or a delinquent, you can't decide which. At his taunt frame, the tattoos spackling every available inch of his skin. Your eyebrows raise of their own accord.
“Professional? You?”
“Yeah, me! I can do it, you know. I could make you come.”
A shiver forces its merry way down your spine at his words.
“You're really confident.”
“You haven't seen what I can do.”
Blushing hard, you attempt to control yourself. “Look, if we're going to do this, I need you to promise some things.”
“Ah, of course, you would have rules,” he grins, as he leans back and spreads in his seat, “continue.”
Searching your mind for a moment, you try to glean what you need.
“First of all, we need to be discreet, and professional at all times, clear?”
“As crystal,” he grins wolfishly, “anything else?”
“Yeah- I think,” you wrack your brains, trying to come up with something that would make this less intimate. Anything. But the roguish nature of his presence makes it hard to even think of a thing. Finally, your eyes widen at the idea that suddenly crosses your mind.
“Final rule. No kissing.”
He pouts, looking at your chest and back up, “no kissing anywhere?”
“N-no, no kissing on the mouth.”
Grin returning, he winks at you, a gesture that flips your stomach inside out.
“Kinky. Alright, deal,” he leans forward to give his hand to yours. A hand covered in ink and calluses. Roughness and tenderness.
You shake it.
********************
For the next couple of days, your little arrangement isn't brought up. A wild thought hammers itself into your mind; either he wasn't serious, or you imagined it.
Those theories are put to bed on day three.
After you let Mac know about the flyers and the bonus poster you designed, you sit back and enjoy the praise given to you. It's funny, the feeling of being told a job has been well done makes you happier than you care to admit.
Eddie turns up at the counter, whistling through his teeth. “Sweet looking flyers, how'd you swing those?”
“I designed them. I've got a degree in design and marketing, if you didn't know,” you sniff, rearranging the stationary on the counter to avoid his eyes.
“Maybe you could help me design some for my band. These look pretty metal.” He says, picking one up and looking at it closely.
“Maybe.”
Eddie leans in close, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek.
“If you're still up for our arrangement, I'm free tonight.”
Heat immediately flushes your face. Ignoring him entirely, you write your address and a time on a notepad, and thrust the paper into his hands.
“Covert, I like it. See you then princess.”
By the time 9pm rolls around you're a jittery mass of nerves, having changed clothes no less than four times, tidied your apartment, changed the bedsheets and paced so much you're surprised there's not a groove in the floorboards.
In the end you'd decided on a baggy band t-shirt and your sleep shorts. It was a rational calculation to make Eddie think you're just wearing what you usually would at home and therefore show you're not nervous. I mean, you are wearing what you'd usually wear at home. He didn't need to know about how long it took you to reach that decision.
The sound of the intercom buzzing sends your pulse into overdrive. Pressing the button, you let out a strangled “Hello?”
“Hey princess.”
“Come on up.”
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…
A soft knock at the door and you count to five, trying to remember how to breathe. When you open the door, you're stunned. He's leaning on the doorframe in a fucking button up shirt. It's black, and clings to him deliciously. His hair looks a little damp, loose around his shoulders, and his aftershave is making you feel dizzy.
“Oh, you didn't need- I mean-” you point at his shirt, and he looks down and chuckles.
“Just came from band practice. Took a shower, and this was clean,” he shrugs and shoulders into your apartment. “Nice place. Where's all your stuff?”
You look around at your sparse apartment. Everything in order, down to the fresh flowers on your tiny dining table.
“This is all my stuff,” you say, confused, “I don't like clutter.”
He chuckles, walking over to you. “No wonder I annoy you. I am clutter.”
He's close now, close enough so that you have to look up to see his face. His rough fingers ghost your arm, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin.
“Nice seeing you in something casual. L7, right?” He asks, pointing at the t-shirt.
“Yeah, you know who they are?”
“I'm surprised you do. Thought you'd be a Mariah Carey kinda girl.”
You scrunch your face in distaste. “No, not at all. You don't know everything about me.”
He leans in, warm breath a whisper in your ear. “I know some things about you.”
Squirming hotly, you lead him to your room before you lose your nerve.
“So, the princess's bedchamber. It's nice,” he remarks, flopping down on the bed as if it were his own.
“Take your boots off,” you snip, folding your arms.
“Ah, there she is.” He smiles, but does as instructed. Once more he's laying back into your scattered pillows looking perfectly at ease. You, on the other hand, stand there, spine a vertical rod as you stare back at him.
“Come on then, sit down.”
Nervously you sit at the foot of the bed with your legs crossed.
“Now princess, what do you do when you touch yourself?”
Blushing furiously, you stammer out, “what, do you expect me to like, show you?”
He chuckles, diffusing some of the tension. “As much as I'd like that, I don't think you're ready for that kinda shit. Just tell me, what's your thought process?”
Staring at him for a little too long, you open your mouth and close it again. He rolls his eyes.
“Look, if you want me to help I'll help, but you gotta give me something here.” He looks as if he's about to get up and leave; your arm shoots out on its own accord, grabbing his leg to stop him.
“Sorry, sorry. I just, I've never spoken about this kinda stuff. I don't know about any process, I just… reach down and fiddle around?” You blush even more.
“So you don't like, watch anything? Or read anything?” He looks a little amused.
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Porn, sweetheart.”
It's so blunt that you jump a little. “Oh no, I've never, oh no no.”
“Christ,” he whispers, “right, you can like, set the mood. Look at something to turn you on? It'd probably help you feel less awkward.”
“Oh. Right.”
“And do you ever just like, slouch? I feel like I'm back at school looking at ya.”
“Huh?”
“Just, come here.” He pats the little space between his spread legs and you hesitate for a second before you crawl over to him.
“How do you want me to sit, like cross legged or-”
He grabs your hips and spins you, forcing your back into his crotch.
“Stop trying to control every little thing,” he says in a hard tone, one you're too embarrassed to admit makes your insides tingle. Softer, he continues. “Look, if you're ever gonna get there you need to relax, stop trying to control it, and stop overthinking.”
“Great, all of the things I'm shit at.”
His laugh is loud, it vibrates into your spine. “I'll help you, OK? You trust me?”
“In a very limited sense of the word, yeah.”
“Lemme rephrase. You still OK to do this?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Just relax.”
You're not sure what you are expecting, but it certainly isn't his hands winding into your hair, fingertips rubbing softly at your scalp. It shoots tingles down your spine, your entire head feeling fuzzy and warm.
You stifle a whimper, biting your lip. His fingers stop.
“If you want to make noises, you can. Tells me I'm doing a good job. That goes for everything else too, alright?”
“Alright.” You whisper.
“You comfortable?”
“Yeah it's just- well-”
“Tell me.”
“I think it's your shirt buttons, they're digging into my back a bit,” you admit, feeling the sharp points down your spine.
“Easily fixed.” He taps your arm and you lean forward. Some rustling, and he throws his shirt to the foot of your bed.
“Now just chill sweetheart.”
His fingers begin rubbing at you again, thumbs sinking low to pop at the bubbles in your neck.
“Fuck, that's really nice.”
He hums appreciatively, working his hands lower and dropping them to your shoulders. The massaging continues, and you feel yourself melting, your body moulding into his. Your legs, once ramrod straight, have bent a little and parted of their own accord, the muscles loosening. Even your breathing has slowed.
“That's better, atta girl,” he says and you whine at the words, a little pathetic mewling sound that tumbles past your lips.
“Oh, you like that, don't you?” The smile is evident in his voice, a smug tone smeared liberally across each word.
“You, you're so-” you begin, but his hand drags across the front of your shirt, just over the tops of your breasts.
“I'm so what?” He whispers in your ear.
“So, so arrogant,” you huff. He laughs, a husky chuckle, and dances the tips of his fingers over your clothed nipple. Gasping, you grasp at his thighs either side of you.
“Yeah? What else am I?” He says, nibbling at your earlobe.
“You- you're cocky, and- and self assured- Oh God!”
Rudely interrupted by him tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, you swear, back arching off of him for a moment.
“You know,” he says in a gravelly tone directly in your ear, “those are pretty much the same thing.”
“You drive me crazy,” you huff, squirming a little against him as his hands explore your chest over your shirt.
“Good crazy or bad crazy?” He smiles, then bites softly at your neck.
“I- I haven't decided yet.”
“Good. I can say the same about you,” he admits, his hands trailing lower, pulling your shirt up so he can stroke at your bare sides. The touch of fingertips on your skin sends a river of sensations through you that run deep into your core.
“Are you going to- what are you doing, exactly?” You breathe, starting to move against him.
“I'm warming you up sweetheart. Why, don't you like it?”
Genuinely curious, you try to ask what you want to know without using the words.
“N- no, I do. Do you have to, erm, get warmed up? When you, you know.”
He lets out a little huff of a laugh. “Guys are a little less… complicated, than girls. For the most part.”
“Oh. OK, so you can just. I mean, you just, get excited?” Your breathing becomes more ragged when the tip of his thumb grazes the underside of your breast.
“Sweetheart, I got hard seeing you in these little shorts.” Running a finger down your stomach, he lightly pings the elastic of your sleep shorts as if to accentuate his point.
“Really?”
There's no denying it when he moves his hips up and you feel his solid bulge press into the small of your back.
“Really. Can I take this off?” He asks, twisting the hem of your shirt in one hand.
“Yeah.” It's a whisper. You're a little scared of being bare chested, but not having to see his face helps. Plus, he's wound you up so much you're on the verge of begging for his touches, pleading for more.
He guides your top up, up, up, revealing you slowly. Coaxing it over your head, you move your arms up so he can remove it. It ends up in a heap on top of his shirt. One tattooed arm wraps around your waist, pulling you toward him more, his hardness pushing against your ass.
His breathing is unsteady as he grinds his hips, pushing onto you further. Gasping, your fingers are vices, firmly attached to his thighs in a vain attempt to anchor you.
Suddenly his hand is winding into your hair, tugging your head aside so he can run a fat tongue across your neck. You shudder at the sensation, feeling the hard ball of his tongue piercing against your throat When he takes his pillowy lips and sucks at the spot between your neck and shoulder a moan slips out. Grunting in approval, his hands are on your bare tits, fingers pinching at your hardened nipples.
“Holy hell!”
He laughs, running rough fingers down your body, circling your new ink, then dipping down past your waistband. Those tattooed fingers barely brush your pubic hair, teasing you, then glide back up to your stomach.
“Eddie, please.”
Your voice is small, not your own. Eddie groans low in your ear, rubbing his length into the fat of your ass.
“Fuck, princess, I like you saying my name like that. You want me to touch you right here?” he says, pressing down hard over your clothed clit.
The sheer relief of having his touch where you need it gets you close to tears; a gulping shudder of a sob rips from deep in your chest.
“See, you're not broken, sweetheart. Can I take these off?”
Shaking, you hook your fingers into your sleep shorts and pull them down your legs, air hitting your most intimate area. Eddie huffs in your ear, his inked hands rubbing up the insides of your thighs.
“You're so fuckin’ sexy.”
Before you can retort, his fingers dip down to your entrance, gathering your slick. You can hear how wet you are, but it's not in you to think about it. You can't think, only feel.
When his fingers run up and start rubbing circles into your clit, your response is visceral. Bucking up, you chase the feeling, searching for even more.
“I'm gonna slip a finger in, alright princess?”
You nod, waiting for the pain, wincing before it even starts.
“It's OK, you're fine, you gotta relax baby.” He strokes your stomach with his free hand, pressing kisses to your temple.
The tip of his finger breaches you, and the pain doesn't come. Your soaking wet cunt invites him in, warm and pulsing with arousal. He slips it into the hilt, his palm pressing into your clit, and your moan is long and loud. It's never felt like this. Never has it stoked a fire in your gut, bubbled your insides like pop rocks and Coke, turned you into a writhing mess.
He fucks his finger into you, slipping a second in to join the first, and you move your hips, chasing the building tightness in your belly. Each thrust of his hand has you bucking, and in turn rubbing against his member trapped within its denim prison.
“That's it, good fuckin’ girl.” His voice is strained, as if he's trying hard not to lose control.
You're not sure what you're begging for, and Eddie doesn't seem to be in any state to ask, but it doesn't matter. His fingers fuck into you in earnest, stroking hard against some spot inside that has you babbling and quivering around him.
“God, you're so tight, this little cunts gonna drive me crazy. So wet and perfect, Jesus Christ.”
The feeling seems too much and not enough, and it grows higher and higher, flooding your body with a pleasure so intense you're sure you black out. The only thing you're aware of is your voice screaming out his name as your body thrusts wildly into his grip. Finally, it dissipates, your body melting against his form, sweating and spent.
You take a breath, and another, trying to gather your wits enough to speak. Eddie speaks first.
“So sweetheart, everything you dreamed it would be?” He asks as he strokes your hair.
You giggle, slapping his thigh, and sit up, grabbing your discarded shirt to cover up.
“Sorry, that was probably a little er, frustrating for you.” You say as you glance at his bare torso, drinking in the sight with your eyes for the first time. He's lean, but ripped, a faint sheen of sweating making his tattoos glisten in the low light.
“What do you mean sweetheart?”
“Well, doing that, not getting anything in return...”
He chuckles lightly, “Oh I wouldn't say that,” he glances down, gesturing to his jeans, “full disclosure, I came in my pants.”
“Really?” your eyes widen, staring at him with disbelief.
“I ain't lying. Wanna check?” He waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh again.
“You seem better already. Right, I better go.”
Shoulders deflating, you pout, “I suppose you better.”
“Hey don't look at me like that. I hoped that helped. Sleep tight, drink some water. I'll see you tomorrow princess.”
And just like that, he leaves. Of course he leaves, it was just a deal you struck, nothing more. A favour. you wipe stray tears from your eyes and try not to focus on the sound of the front door shutting.
As you collapse on the bed, exhausted, you think about his hands, his words. There's something screaming inside, telling you you're playing with fire, but as you drift off you can't find it in you to mind.
Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3
Different Up Here
Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k
anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎
request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist
minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly
If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.
"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"
Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.
"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."
A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.
"Heh, that's a new one for out here."
Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.
"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"
"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."
"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."
You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.
That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.
Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.
"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"
Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.
"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."
You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.
"No, no no no no no. Just..."
The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.
"... fooling around... y'know?"
Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.
"Oh... oh darlin'."
He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.
"I don't think you're ready for that at all."
You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.
"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"
"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"
"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."
Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.
"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."
"Why? Sex is sex..."
You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.
"... Isn't it?"
"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."
The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.
"What exactly do you mean by that?"
Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.
"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."
His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.
"No, sir."
"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"
As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes, sir."
You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.
You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.
And luckily, he seemed agreeable.
"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"
Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.
It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.
"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."
"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"
Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.
"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."
His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.
"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."
"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"
Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.
"Well, it's something like this."
He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.
Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.
Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.
"Well?"
"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."
"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"
He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.
"You like that? Like it rough?"
"I think... I think I like both."
"So, something like this?"
He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.
You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.
"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."
Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.
"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."
His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.
"Did they make you feel good?"
"No."
You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.
"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"
"A little..."
Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.
"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."
His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.
“And what about these pretty lips?”
Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.
“They touch these lips, huh?”
You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.
“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”
As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.
“Do it slowly though.”
Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.
“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”
You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.
“Turn around though. You face that way.”
The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.
“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”
A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.
The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.
It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.
“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”
His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.
“Don’t you dare, little lady.”
“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”
He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.
“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”
“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”
“I absolutely will not.”
Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.
Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.
“I am warning you, missy.”
“Cooper… I can’t stop…”
You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.
“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”
“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”
Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.
“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”
“Cooper…”
“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”
“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”
“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”
The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.
“Come on, darlin’, come on…”
Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.
As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.
“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”
You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.
“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”
As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.
“Alright then, get onto your knees.”
Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.
You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.
It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.
“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”
The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.
He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.
“Can I taste it… you?”
Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.
“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”
You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.
A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way. Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.
Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.
“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”
He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.
“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”
You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.
“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”
It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.
“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”
Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.
He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.
“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”
You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.
Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.
And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.
“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”
He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.
“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”
“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”
“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”
You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.
Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.
“Bigger than before?”
You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.
“Better?”
“Mhm…”
“Speak up, darlin’.”
With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.
“Yes… it’s better.”
“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”
Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.
“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”
“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”
Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.
“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”
You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.
“Ah… Cooper…”
“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”
There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn’t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.
“A little…”
Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.
His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.
“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”
He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.
“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”
You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.
“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”
With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.
“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl… good girl…”
It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.
And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.
You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.
“Did I say you could get up?”
Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.
“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”
Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.
“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”
Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.
When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.
“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”
“M-more?”
More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.
“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”
Summary: Severus comes home to find he's been left a gift from The Dark Lord--you.
Words: 4901
Warnings: PIV, Human Given As A Gift, Master/Servant, Pet Names, Fingering, Oral Male Receiving, Dirty Talk.
Author's Note: Hiiii if you know me then welcome back--WILL I EVER STICK TO ONE FANDOM TO WRITE FOR? The answer is no lol If this is your first time reading my writing then welcome! I hope you enjoy my first ever Snape one-shot!
Severus Snape is tired.
So very tired.
Tired of living this double life.
Death Eater. The Order.
Following Dumblerdor’s orders. Secretly protecting Harry.
Funneling particular information to Voldemort for the sake of keeping up appearances.
All while teaching potions.
The vein in his temple throbs at the mere thought of his students.
He doesn’t want to think about them now. He doesn't want to think about anything.
All Severus Snape wants is to bury his face into a pillow.
And that’s exactly his plan as he walks into his home and heads up the stairs towards his room...
That is until he notices the piece of parchment stuck to the bedroom door. He’s immediately on high alert. Tension has his spine straight and his shoulders up by his ears. With his wand drawn, he creeps closer, ready to hex whatever intruder has managed to sneak into his home.
But the signature at the bottom gives him pause.
Why the hell was The Dark Lord leaving him handwritten notes?
Dark eyes scan the entire letter.
“To my most loyal Death Eater. I’ve left you a gift. A reward for all of your hard work. Use it however you wish and dispose of it when you’re done with it.”
Severus raises a brow.
It?
What exactly was waiting for him on the other side of the door?
There was only one way to find out.
With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the door, but what he finds stops him dead in his tracks.
A woman sits kneeling on the floor beside his bed.
Your head is bowed with your hands placed palms up atop your thighs. But the most shocking thing is that you’re completely naked except for a black and green garter belt on your right thigh.
“What is the meaning of this?” he commands, still in a mild state of shock at the scene before him.
You, however, do not stir, keeping your body still.
“Hello, Master. It is a pleasure to meet you. How may I serve you tonight?”
Your voice is warm…feminine…inviting. It draws Severus in and has him stepping into the room. But the closer he gets to you, the more your words sink in.
“Forgive me…serve me?”
You nod. “Yes, Master. I belong to you now. For as long as you want me.”
The realization hits him like a bludger to the face.
“You’re…my gift.”
You nod again. “From the Dark Lord.”
“And why would the Dark Lord send me a human as a gift?” The disgust in his voice isn’t directed at you, but you respond nonetheless.
“To use as you see fit. I am yours and any desire my Master has is mine to fulfill.”
He doesn’t know a single soul alive or dead who wouldn’t be tempted by such an offer.
And though his heart had been lowered into the ground on the same day that Lily’s body was, he is still a man.
A man with needs that he hasn’t even dreamt of allowing himself to feel.
He’s standing directly in front of you now.
“Look at me,” he commands
You eagerly obey, and look up at him with large doe eyes. You stare at him with your gaze filled with willingness. He searches your eyes, attempting to find even an ounce of fear or disgust but finds nothing but devotion.
As if you truly want nothing more than to serve.
His mouth goes dry and all of his body’s blood supply seems to be traveling south to his cock.
This is wrong.
Who knows what the Dark Lord had threatened you with…or where he had stolen you from.
But everything about you screams submission.
It awakens a darker side of himself. One that he hasn’t felt stirring since he was a young, newly appointed Death Eater.
Back then Lucius Malfoy would hire girls and throw secret parties down in the dungeons below his estate. It was at these “parties” that Severus found his proclivity for knots…and magically binding girls to the ceiling so he could fuck them until they were begging to cum.
It’s a time that he wishes he could scrub clean. Not only from his mind but from the history books of his life.
Shame had accompanied him at those parties because he knew this was a part of him that he couldn’t share with Lilly.
Even if James Potter had never been in the picture and Lilly had somehow been his. She was too lovely and sweet for that sort of depravity.
She would have never enjoyed such things.
And he would never—
“Master?”
Your voice pulls him from his thoughts, his eyes focusing back on you just as you reach out to take his hand. Your grip is so light, almost as if you’re worried your touch will offend him.
“I want to please you. Want to give you whatever it is you need. Please? All I want is to be a good girl for you.”
A good girl.
His cock throbs.
How you knew exactly what to say, baffles him.
Perhaps you were a skilled Legilimens—allowing you a peek into his thoughts.
Either way, you said the phrase that never failed to stop him in his tracks. He grips your hand more firmly and lets his other move to your cheek—to see if you’ll flinch at his touch.
But, bloody hell, you lean into his palm and press your lips to the pad of his thumb. Never once averting your gaze.
He lets out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding.
You’re all his.
“You said you’ll fulfill any request?” His thumb grazes over your bottom lip, opening it to reveal the tiniest bit of the inside of your mouth.
“Anything,” you concur.
His mind races with endless possibilities. He hasn’t tapped into this part of himself in years. It makes him antsy to claim you. But Severus Snape is not a rash man. He does not allow his emotions to make him sloppy.
He is cunning and calculating.
And more importantly, he knows exactly how he’ll have you prove yourself.
He slides his foot forward, placing his black leather dress shoe in front of you.
“Kiss it.”
Immediately, you obey, positioning yourself on all fours before leaning down to press your lips to the tip. But you don’t stop there. In fact, you cover the entire top of his shoe with kisses.
With each kiss, you let out a soft, sweet noise–as if this act of obedience is actually bringing you pleasure.
Severus lets out a rough command, “Don’t stop.”
You don’t, lowering your upper body further onto the floor, but purposely keeping your hips in the air to showcase the curve of your ass. Your kisses turn to licks, making the top of his boot glisten with your spit.
The sight of both almost makes him lose control.
“Keep going,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling his cock pulsing within the constraints of his pants.
You pull your torso off the floor, moving closer to him so you can start kissing and nuzzling your way up the length of his leg.
Not once do you break eye contact. You look at him without fear, without disgust, without judgment.
It's an unusual occurrence for him. He’s used to his students being intimidated by the mere mention of his name. Even in his school days, he had never been known as a looker.
But this is different.
You are different.
You look at him with reverence and lust while you continue your path up his leg.
However, once you reach his groin, you stop and sit back on your heels. You return to your earlier position, with your feet tucked under you and your hands resting palms up atop your knees.
You’re so submissive.
It’s perfection.
“You’re waiting for my command, aren’t you?” he asks, moving his hand to hover over the bulge in his pants.
Your eyes dart at the movement of his hand that’s now slowly rubbing his erection through his pants. You seem transfixed but still manage to reply.
“Yes, Master. I’m your property. My sole purpose is to please you.”
“My property?” he breathes, freeing his aching cock from his trousers.
He watches with satisfaction when your eyes widen at the sight of it.
You only nod, too busy watching as he starts to slowly stroke the shaft of his cock.
He does this more to tease you than for his own pleasure. It clearly works because you fidget ever so slightly.
“You’re my property,” he repeats, louder to refocus you. “My beautiful…little good girl.”
Severus pants between words, stroking himself with a firmer grip.
“Yes, Master,” you moan with a lick of your lips. “I’m your good girl.”
“Then prove it by sucking your Master’s cock.”
You almost take him by surprise with how fast you rise onto your knees. Gently, you nudge his hand away before wrapping your own around the base of his cock. You hold eye contact with him while tracing your tongue over the veins in his shaft.
“You taste so good,” you moan out and drag your tongue along the underside until you reach the tip.
You clearly know what you’re doing. Severus swears his heart beats in time with the flicking of your tongue. Your hand and mouth work simultaneously—tugging firmly while playfully licking.
That is until your hand falls away so you can swallow his cock whole.
“Bloody hell,” he swears, involuntarily bucking his hips forward.
Pleased by his reaction, you hum and tighten your lips around him as you pick up your pace, bobbing your head up and down while sucking him off.
He watches you intently. His dark brown eyes burn almost black as you suck him off like your life depended on it.
“The good girl is enjoying this, isn’t she?” he hotly whispers, cock stiffening in your mouth.
You nod with a mischievous twinkle in your eye.
The sounds of you slurping and sucking with such passion sends Severus into a frenzy.
His fingers twitch with the need to touch you.
Your mouth is warm and so fucking inviting, like his cock was always meant to be there.
He wants…no—needs more.
No longer able to keep his hands to himself, Severus’ hand grips the back of your head. Long, nimble fingers tangle within the locks of your hair and start to move you up and down at just the right pace.
Obeying his physical commands, you allow him to fuck your mouth while you drool all over him.
So much so that he can feel saliva dripping onto his balls.
Fuck you were messy.
He loves it.
Almost too much.
But you’re looking at him with an affectionate gaze and it only makes him want more.
Both of his hands grip onto your head, thrusting his hips forward so he could slam his cock into your throat. Your hands grab his thighs to try to hold yourself steady and not gag.
“That’s it,” he grunts, “choke on your Master’s cock.”
You groan with brows knitting together while saliva drips from the corner of your mouth. Severus would have thought he was being too rough if it wasn’t for your crumpled, pleasure-stricken face.
He allows himself a moment to take you all in, wanting to commit you to his memory. So that when you’re gone, he’ll still have this image of you prettily sucking his cock.
That’s when he notices you pressing your thighs together.
Fire pools within his rib cage.
You’re actually getting off on this.
On pleasing him.
On gagging on him.
On obeying him.
Suddenly, having you down on your knees isn’t enough.
“Stand up,” he commands and forcefully pulls away, slipping his cock from your mouth.
You take a moment to catch your breath and wipe the spit from your chin. Wanting to give you time to compose yourself, he keeps himself busy by stripping fully out of his clothing and casting a quick protection and contraceptive spell with a few flicks of his wand.
By the time you’re on your feet, he’s standing before you naked.
Your eyes run over his form and take a step forward with hands outstretched as if you want to touch. He doesn’t give you the chance.
Instead, he places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you backward until your knees hit the side of his bed and you fall back onto the mattress with a surprised yelp. Your gaze shifts, looking at him towering over you with large eyes.
He steps forward, nudging your knees apart with his leg. “Be a good girl and open wider for me.”
Your knees fall apart, giving him a full view of your cunt.
“You’re so wet,” he breathes, in awe that you’re already dripping when he hasn’t so much as touched you.
Calloused fingertips run up your inner thighs. The skin there is tender so you shiver until they make contact with your cunt and a chorus of sweet melodies leave your parted lips.
You greedily grind into his touch, already wanting more.
With a grin, he enjoys himself as he plays with you. He prods your opening and watches your eyelids flutter close.
“What a needy cunt you have.” He means it as a compliment, but it’s laced with a snark that’s meant to embarrass you.
It works, color flushing over your cheeks. “It’s your cunt now, Master. All of me is yours.”
It’s clear that being owned is a massive turn-on for you. And if he’s honest, he’s more than happy to play this game.
“That’s right,” he breathes, fingers tracing up towards your clit. “Every inch of you is mine. Including your clit.”
He applies pressure to the sensitive bud, causing you to whine and twitch. You nearly come undone from how skillfully he draws circles on your clit.
But every time you buck your hips forward, his fingers move away.
“More Master. Please, give me more.”
You whine and twitch, pleading sweetly.
So sweetly that it’s impossible for him to continue teasing you. His fingers move to your entrance, and he plunges them inside your tightness.
You cry out in surprise, both hands grabbing ahold of the arm pressed between your thighs. His fingers are long and thick, moving in and out in slick quick thrusts.
He finger fucks you mercilessly and you love it.
You toss your head back, mouth falling open wide as you moan towards the ceiling.
Severus leans in, caging you beneath his body, and nuzzles his nose along the side of your face. His body is pressed against yours now and you gasp at the feeling of his hard cock leaking precum on your thigh.
“Master…” you whimper, and he chuckles before whispering hotly into your ear.
“This belongs to me as well. This tight dripping cunt is mine. Is that understood?” he asks while picking up the pace of his fingers.
You struggle to respond, tripping over your words but he doesn’t relent—wanting you to work through the pleasure.
“Y-Yes. Yes, Master! I-I understand.”
He hums his praise, calling you a good girl before falling silent. For the next few minutes, the only sounds heard are the sounds of your desperate cries and the wet squelching sounds of your cunt.
Your orgasm is drawing closer, threatening to take you over.
“I…I’m going to–”
But your words aren’t needed because Severus knows what a woman looks like before she’s about to cum.
“I know, sweet thing,” he cuts you off, looking at you and holding eye contact. “But cumming for me is a privilege. One you must ask for.”
You nod your head, gripping his arm tighter, “May I cum? Please let me cum for my Master?”
With a proud grin, he says the three most glorious words.
“Cum for me.”
The permission is all you need, the cord inside you snapping.
Your body goes rigid and your ability to speak is replaced with breathy, unrestrained moans. Your orgasm hits you hard, but it’s only when you limply slump back onto the mattress that he carefully removes his fingers from you.
They’re soaked in your juices.
Severus suddenly finds himself very parched.
You’re looking up at him with a flushed face and glossed-over eyes but are clearly too focused on catching your breath.
So, he lets you watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean.
You make a noise of surprise, mesmerized by his mouth.
Satisfied with this small taste of you, he releases his fingers with a soft ‘pop’. “Mmmh, delicious.”
“I’m glad Master thinks so. Thank you for letting me cum,” you murmur politely.
And just when he thought you couldn’t be any more perfect.
Sitting beside you on the bed, he grabs your upper arms and hauls you towards him. He crashes his lips onto yours, forcing his tongue inside of your mouth.
You return the kiss in a flurry of passion as your hands begin to roam freely over his body.
Starting from his shoulder, you trail your hands down his bare chest to his hip bones. He moans into your mouth, enjoying the feeling of your soft hands and the way you gently suck at his tongue.
Your hands continue downward until your fingertips brush against his still very hard cock.
He breaks the kiss with a smirk. “Is there something you want, Little One?”
You brush your lips against his with a nod. “I want to help my Master to cum.”
He can already guess what you’re about to say, but still, Severus tucks a lock of hair behind your ear and whispers, “And how do you plan to do that?”
“However you’d like me to.”
Your answer is immediate but something tells him it isn’t the entire truth. His fingers grip your jaw, tilting it so you’re forced to maintain eye contact with him. “Tell me how you want to make your Master cum.”
With wide eyes, the truth pours from your mouth like uncorked wine.
“My cunt. Please use my cunt.”
Your plea is so desperate that he doesn’t waste any more time leaning in closer until you have to shift your position to lay back on the bed. With a nudge to your thighs, your legs part to accommodate him as he places a hand beside your head, trapping you beneath him.
He’s settled between your thighs now with his cock pressed against your core.
You moan in unison at the contact.
As if it’s painful for both of you to not have him buried inside.
Your hands run from his forearms, over his shoulders, and down his chest. “Take me, please. Let me feel my Master’s cock inside.”
He straightens his back and guides your legs to wrap around his waist fully. You continue to plead, but instead of giving you a verbal reply, he plunges balls deep inside of you.
You both instantly tense.
He, because of the tightness of your walls clinging around him, and you, because of the sudden intrusion of his cock demanding to be taken.
“That’s it. Taking me so well,” he breathlessly praises, slowly moving out, then back in so you’d have time to adjust.
Severus had always refused to inflict pain on his partners that they hadn’t consented to and begged for. And he isn’t about to start now. So he waits until he feels you relax.
Your head lulls to the side with a moan, feeling beyond stuffed full, but also whole.
You coo, arching into him. Severus knew he couldn’t keep his movements slow for much longer.
“Is this what you want? To be fucked until I own this cunt?”
“Yes!” you whine, starting to grind your hips in an attempt to get his cock deeper. “I want my Master to ruin me for anyone else.”
It’s the word ruin that does him in. Unable to wait any longer he slams into you.
You yelp, grabbing ahold of his forearms and sinking your nails into his flesh.
The slight bite of pain only spurs him on, his pace anything but slow. The rough and steady rhythm of his thrusts has you already clenching around him.
He isn’t sure where to look. At your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure, or at your cunt that’s currently swallowing him whole. You toss your head back, slightly obscuring you from his view. So he settles his gaze downward–watching how his cock glistens from your juices every time he pulls out.
It’s an intoxicating sight.
One that threatens to force him to spill himself inside of you.
But he won’t.
Not yet.
Not until he’s done enjoying you for a bit longer.
Not until he can make you cum again.
He grabs some of your hair and tugs so you’re forced to look back at him.
“You love this, don’t you? Using your cunt to please me?”
Your legs wrap even tighter around his waist, drawing closer…deeper.
“Yes, Master! Feels so good pleasing you!”
Pressure builds in your lower belly from the orgasm that’s steadily approaching.
It feels like he’s everywhere.
In you.
On you.
All over you.
“M-Master I—so close. P-Please.”
You’re struggling to form words but he already knows what you’re trying to say. He reaches between your bodies to your clit and rubs it, strokes it, and draws circles on it until he finds the touch that has you babbling in broken, indecipherable sentences.
“I want you to cum,” he speaks in labored breaths, teasing your clit while still spearing you on his length. “I want you to cum for me now.”
For a moment, you fall completely silent, but then it hits.
The unfiltered, beautiful howls that accompany your climax. All the while, your inner walls close around him in the most delicious way.
He curses, lurching forward as you gush and spasm around him. It’s too much, and he’s quickly following you over the edge, filling you with his cum.
You both tremble through your aftershocks, unable to detangle from one another while coming down from your highs.
He feels like a new man after cumming for the first time in God knows how long. But one look at you and your sleep-heavy eyes has him focusing on steadying his breathing faster.
Memories from his past return to him, and words like aftercare play through his mind. It displeases him that he doesn’t know what you require right now—space or intimacy?
Deciding it’s best to take the middle ground, he slowly slips out of you but sits on the edge of the bed beside you. He takes the utmost care not to jostle you but you don’t seem to notice because you’ve already turned onto your side facing him.
You make yourself comfortable, curling up with your eyes closed and a relaxed smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
Relieved, he lets out a breath and runs his hand through his dark locks to move it off his face.
“That felt amazing. Thank you, Master,” you mumble happily into his pillow.
“Call me Severus.”
“As you wish, Master Severus.”
A spark of warmth emanates from his chest. He likes the way you say his name. It makes him feel things.
He reaches for you, tugging you into his arms to help you sit up. At first, you whine, but relax when he pulls you to sit between his thighs and leans you against his chest.
He holds you close and whispers, “Will you tell me your name?”
You peek up at him with a smile and say it.
He repeats it, liking the way your name rolls off his tongue.
You nod, your smile widening across your face. He can’t stop himself from stroking your cheek.
“I’ll be right back.” He stands, making his way over to his wardrobe. “Get yourself ready for bed, Little One.” He calls from over his shoulder as he uses his wand for a simple cleansing spell. Since you’ve managed to coat even his balls in your slick.
Afterward, he slips on a pair of black silk pajama pants.
He’s about to put a shirt on when he turns back to you, expecting to find you dressed, but instead, he finds you sitting on his bed and watching him.
“Where are your night robes?”
You fidget uncomfortably, looking away.
Severus should have known this wouldn’t last. He tries to disguise his disappointment but fails.
“If you don’t wish to stay, then just say so.”
The ice in his voice is evident and you snap your head up in his direction.
“I-It’s not that!” you protest. “I want to stay. I just…don’t have any clothes.”
His frown deepens, “The Dark Lord didn’t leave your clothes here for you?”
You shake your head ‘no’.
This only confuses him further. To have you waiting for him nude was clearly meant to entice him, but to leave you with nothing to wear after doesn’t make sense.
“No personal belongings at all? I don’t understand how he expected you to get home after this.”
You flinch, once again looking away. “He said…” you trail off. “Never mind, Master.”
He didn’t need spells or potions to see the discomfort radiating off of you.
With the long-sleeved shirt he had intended for himself in hand, he makes his way over to you. Of course, he could have simply conjured you some clothing, but if he’s being honest with himself—
He wants you wrapped up in him for a while longer.
“Arms up.”
You lift your head and see the shirt in his hands. You obey, and he slips the shirt over your head to help you dress.
“It’s a tad big on you, but it will do until morning.”
You pull your knees to your chest while muttering a ‘thank you’.
There’s still something bothering you and Severus is determined to figure out what it is.
“Look at me,” he commands, knowing you’ll obey. When you do, he continues, “Tell your Master what’s bothering you.”
Perhaps it isn’t right for him to pull the ‘dom’ card when you aren’t technically his submissive, but he needs the truth.
You stall for a little longer, gnawing on your bottom lip until you finally respond, “The Dark Lord told me that I didn’t need to pack any of my things because he didn’t believe you’d want me after you were through with me.”
“I see…What else did the Dark Lord tell you?”
“That I belong to whoever comes into the room, and that I was to serve them until they no longer had use for me. Which he predicted would be just for tonight…Then he–”
You falter, bravery abandoning you.
He lets out a breath, resisting the urge to scrub at his eyes. Of course, he had threatened you.
Placing a finger underneath your chin, he gently raises it. Your eyes flutter, struggling to meet his gaze.
“You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?”
You only nod.
“You have my word that you’re under my protection now. Do you understand?”
You nod again and summon your bravery so you can continue. “Then he said that maybe he would pass me around to the other Death Eaters or maybe he’d use me himself.”
Severus can’t explain the jealousy that boils within him.
But it’s there.
Hot and nauseating.
Suddenly, he can’t bear the thought of another having you.
Not Voldemort.
Not anyone.
“No one is allowed to touch what’s mine.” The threat of his words hangs in the air, but you look relieved.
“You…You mean you’ll keep me here with you?”
He hadn’t realized he had said that aloud.
Honestly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. All he knew was that the only hands he wanted on you were his.
“Is that…something you’d want?”
You smile bright, brighter than the summer’s sun. “Nothing would make me happier, Master.”
As beautiful as you are, and as lovely as it sounds to have a warm cunt to bury himself in each night, the cold blade of reality cuts through.
“Listen to me, there are still many things we’ll need to discuss—”But you aren’t listening because you’re too busy crawling into his lap. You straddle him and nuzzle your face into the side of his neck.
“Thank you, Severus,” you whisper against his skin, melting against his body as you make yourself comfortable.
No one has ever thanked him in his entire life. He isn’t sure how to handle it.
The longer you lay against him, the more a warmth blooms inside his breastbone.
He can’t deny how good it feels to have you close.
Things can’t be this simple can they?
Nothing in his life had ever been simple.
You let out a small sigh, seemingly starting to fall asleep while sitting up. It tears him from his thoughts and instead has him worried about your comfort. He shifts and lays down on the bed with you still tucked into his chest.
He had no way of knowing if this would work, but bloody hell did you fit perfectly against him.
Years of tension seemingly start to melt away as sleep threatens to take him over.
Voldemort had given you to him for being his most loyal Death Eater.
And while nothing could be further from the truth, Severus Snape can’t help but think.
This was the best damn present he’d ever received.
Summary: After his death, Rey longs for the touch of her other half. That is until he comes to her and gives her hope that maybe…..just maybe he's actually alive.
Words: 4195
Warnings: PIV, Virgin Rey, First time sex.
Author's Note: Hi everyone this is my first official Reylo writing. I've always enjoyed reading Reylo but never felt confident enough to write it. That is until an artist by the name of Claire (theriseofswolo on twitter) created a beautiful drawing of Rey and Ben that sparked my creativity to the point that I knew I had to write this. I hope you enjoy reading this!
“Rey…..”
Someone is calling her name.
But she doesn’t feel like answering.
“Rey?”
She groans, irritated that someone would try and disturb her sleep.
“Can you hear me?”No.
Well technically she could, but she didn’t want to.
All she wants is to stay curled up in her bed. She had been restless for hours, like every other night. No amount of tossing and turning could bring her comfort.
So now that the blissful oblivion that is sleep finally has finally taken her, she doesn’t like being bothered.
This has been her life since settling on Tatooine. She’s able to keep herself busy during the day, but at night?
That’s when loneliness creeps in.
Slowly and inconspicuously, like a spider crawling along its web.
“Rey, are you there?”
She had already said ‘No’.
Because waking up now would mean another night awake with a pain reminiscent of her heart being chipped away at.
Piece by piece until there’s nothing but an empty hole.
She whimpers at the memory. Not wanting to experience that type of pain ever again.
But this is her life now.
This is what it feels like without her dyad…her other half.
Without Ben.
“Sweetheart, I need you to hear me.”
Her eyes flutter open then because no one has ever called her that before, and the only person who she’s imagined calling her that is—
“Ben?”
She turns over and finds him kneeling beside her.
But she is no longer in her bed and they aren’t in her bedroom. Around them is nothing but darkness.
Except…it’s not the type of bleak darkness.
There’s a glow…a warmth.
As if the moon is bathing them in her light.
But there is no moon or sky for that matter.
In fact, there isn’t even a floor.
Ripples of light fan out from where Ben crouches, giving the appearance that he’s sitting atop a pool of water.
That’s when she notices that he isn’t wearing a stitch of clothing.
“I’m dreaming,” she states, because this wouldn’t be the first time she’s seen him in dreams.
Like her own personal tormentor, her mind has a nasty habit of conjuring him when she’s at her most vulnerable. The sound of his voice, a flash of him from the corner of her eye, or fantasies where his life force hadn’t faded away on Exegol.
But Ben shakes his head, looking far too beautiful for someone who had died bloody and bruised. “It’s not a dream, Rey. It…It feels like how it used to. When the Force would connect us.”
She slowly sits up, moving a fraction of an inch closer, and notices how he shifts to close his legs a bit more for modesty. He suddenly seems painfully aware of his nudity, but Rey is too entranced with the feeling of simply being here with him.
He’s right. This feels like when the Force started bringing them together while she was on Luke’s island. Except, now they’ve been through so much–both together and separately.
“But how is that possible? I watched you die…I felt it.” She grabs the front of her shirt, right above her heart, sounding pained. But before Ben can respond, her eyes shift back to his. “Are…are you real?”
His brows furrow slightly, and he looks down at his hand as if to study it. “I suppose…”
If he wanted to say more, she doesn’t give him the chance, because she’s throwing herself into his arms.
There’s only one way to find out, and this is it.
She buries herself into his chest—finding him solid and warm.
His arms come around her, holding her steady as he plants his foot to keep them from toppling over.
A strangled sob leaves her. “I can touch you! You’re here.” She cups the side of his face, threading her fingers through his hair. They brush against his ear, his—as she just found out—adorably large ear.
Tears blur her vision. “You’re really here.”
Realization crashes over them and quickly turns into emotions.
Raw, powerful emotions that have them both groping at one another.
Her hands grip his face and shoulders, while his own cradle the back of her head and spine.
“I feel you,” he gasps, his own eyes starting to water. “Stars, I can really feel you.”
And then they’re kissing so hard that their tears begin to mingle, but neither of them cares.
Not when they feel undeniably whole.
All the jagged pieces within them soften and dull until they slip together like puzzle pieces.
Everything feels right.
No more sadness. No more pain. No more longing.
It’s just them.
The way it was always meant to be, even before they knew one another’s names.
Rey isn’t sure how, but somehow in the midst of their kissing, they had shifted. She’s lying on her back now, with him leaning over her to the point that she’s trapped beneath him.
She can feel every inch of his muscular frame pressed against hers, but it isn’t enough…she needs more.
Pulling at his broad shoulders, she coaxes him to rest his full weight on her. He hesitates and she huffs, tugging firmer until he gives in.
There can be no separation between them.
Not now or ever again.
She wouldn’t go back to the numbing bleakness that she’d been living in since defeating Palpatine.
Their mouths slant over one another's, deepening the kiss. She feels the tip of his tongue glide along her bottom lip, causing a moan to slip out.
He answers her moan with one of his own, except it’s deeper and hungrier. It makes her shiver and her hips involuntarily buck. That’s when she feels something hard pulse against her thigh.
Her eyes dart downwards and catch a glimpse of his member. It’s long and thick with trimmed black curls at the base.
And though Rey has never seen one up close…or really at all. She’s overheard Poe enough times to know that when a man hardens like that, it’s because he wants to have sex.
Ben Solo wants to have sex with her.
Her heart pounds in her breastbone like the steady beat of a drum. She knows she wants this because there’s no one else she feels she’s meant to be with.
However, that doesn’t rid her of her anxieties.
She needs to tell him that this is her first time or else she risks making a fool of herself. She doesn’t want that. She wants her first time to be perfect.
He’s still kissing her, lost in tasting her mouth with his tongue. She can already feel a wetness pooling between her legs at the skillful way he moves his tongue. It’s near impossible to break away but she knows she has to.
“B-Ben,” she tries to hide the tremble of her words and her blush-stained cheeks. “I’ve…never done this before.”
“Do you want to stop?” he asks immediately.
“No!” she shouts back, effectively shutting him up. Embarrassed, she clears her throat and lowers her voice. “I don’t want to stop. I want to be close to you…As close as I possibly can be.”
His dark eyes seem to soften as a small smile tugs at his mouth. “I want that too, more than anything.”
She tries to not let her inexperience show, even though she’s already admitted the truth.
“Will…Can you teach me?”
A chuckle bubbles up from his chest, momentarily upsetting her.
Is he laughing at her?
But he chases those worries away when he nuzzles the tip of his nose against hers and then places a kiss on her forehead.
“Of course, Sweetheart.”
That name again.
It has her toes curling.
She’d do anything to hear him call her that again.
His fingers tug at the hem of her nightshirt, instantly refocusing her attention. He undresses her slowly, admiring every bit of newly exposed skin. Anytime she tries to help, he shoos her hands away.
“This is my job tonight,” he whispers just before leaving a delicate kiss on her right nipple.
His lips are so full that she finds herself wondering how they would feel kissing all of her. With his knee, he nudges her legs apart so his fingertips can trace along her belly before traveling further until they reach the dark nest of hair that lay between her thighs.
She watches his every move with wide eyes.
“Do you know what this is called?” he asks lustfully before moving his hand to his own body and gently gripping himself at the base. “And this?”
Heat burns her cheeks all the way down to the tops of her breasts.
“Of course I do!” she snaps. “I’m not an idiot!”
His features harden.
“Do not call yourself that, do you understand me?” His tone is stern, sounding more like he did when he went by the name Kylo Ren.
It gives her pause, but in this context, also excites her.
When she doesn’t argue, he relaxes. “I wasn’t saying you’re an idiot. I was only trying to see if I could ask you my next question.”
“Which is?”
He meets her gaze, looking rather smug. “Do you know what happens between a man and a woman? How they become one?”
Not wanting to lose her nerve, she attempts to answer, “They…You…put yourself inside.”
“That’s right.” He grins as he praises her. “And then what?”
Rey swears her entire face is redder than the Tatooine suns.
“Go on, Sweetheart,” he croons. “Say it.”
“I…”
He must sense that her uncertainty is getting the better of her because he finishes for her.
“I fuck you until you cum for me.”
Her throat has gone dry so she merely nods.
“Is that what you want, Rey?”
Something tells her that nodding won’t be enough for him.
“Y-Yes…And I…I want to know how to make you feel good too.”
“Shhhh,” he soothes while smoothing down her hair, “Don’t worry so much about that. Whatever brings you pleasure will do the same for me.”
She nods, willing herself to believe him. “Will…Will it hurt?”
Refusing to lie to her, he answers honestly, “It might. The first time usually does for women, but I’m going to take care of you and I’ll stop the moment you need me to.”
She nods again, and Ben brings his hand back between her legs. “Do you trust me?”
“More than anything,” she responds without hesitation.
No sooner than the words leave her lips does he cup her sex in his palm. His fingers spread her open, gliding through her folds.
“Shit,” he curses breathlessly. “You’re already starting to get wet.”
“Is that a good thing?” she can’t help but ask.
He kisses her with a nod of his head. “It means you're aroused. It’s your body’s way of getting ready to–”
“Take you inside?” she tries finishing for him.
The words sound rather juvenile to her, but from the hunger in Ben’s eyes, he very much enjoyed hearing her say it.
His fingers brush against that sensitive bud that Rey has only ever accidentally touched. She gasps, feeling her legs unconsciously open wider. He repeats the action and her head falls back onto the floor with a soft thud.
“Have you ever touched yourself here? Have you made yourself cum before?”
The light touches turn into slightly firmer circles and she swears she can see stars. She tries answering both of his questions at the same time even though all she wants to do is moan.
“N-No, never. Not on purpose. And it…it never felt like this.”
She’s very aware that she isn’t making sense, so instead she sends her thoughts through their bond.
No, she’s never made herself cum before.
She’s only ever touched herself accidentally or out of curiosity.
But his touch? His touch feels different.
He cocks his head to the side. “Different how?”
She had been praying that he wouldn’t ask her to explain, but of course, he does anyway.
“Feels…better. Your fingers feel better.”
The cocky grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, reminding her of Han. He’s more like his father than he could possibly know.
His fingers pick up their tempo, rubbing her harder and faster until she’s bucking up into his touch.
“That’s it, just like that,” he praises, keeping her caged beneath him no matter how hard she thrashes. “I can feel your clit pulsing against my fingertips. Are you going to cum, Sweetheart?”
“I don’t know!” she sobs, her hands gripping his biceps hard enough that her nails leave half-moon imprints behind.
“Hmm, let me try this,” he muses, more to himself than to her, but all the same, he shifts the position of his fingers—leaving his thumb on her clit and the rest of his fingers down by her opening.
She feels every nerve ending on her body sparking like an electrical wire when one of his fingers slips inside of her.
His digit is thick and long just like the rest of him. It feels good but she tenses when she realizes he’s inside.
“Shhhh, Rey. It’s alright. You’re alright. I’m going to go as slow as you need me to.”
She hadn’t realized that she had shut her eyes, so she opens them and finds Ben smiling down at her.
“That’s better. Now, take a deep breath with me.”
He doesn’t wait for a response, just demonstrates how he wants her to breathe.
This doesn’t seem like the time to argue, so she follows his instructions.
Breathe in.
Hold it.
Count to five.
And release.
Somehow that pause was all she needed to bring her focus back on the pleasure. She looks at him and gives him a small nod for him to continue.
He moves his finger in and out of her depths slowly. So slowly that she almost feels impatient, but he clearly has more experience with this than she does.
The thought causes a crease to form in her brow. However, Ben is there to kiss it away.
“Don’t think about that, because they were never who I needed…They were never you.”
Tears prickle at her eyes but she doesn’t want to cry again. She links her arm around the back of his neck, pulling him back to her and kissing him as she tells him not to stop.
Eagerly, he returns her kiss and resumes the movement of his finger. He works it in and out of her, gradually picking up the pace. She starts making the lewdest, whiniest noises she’s ever heard.
She’d be worried about sounding pathetic if he wasn’t rolling his hips into her thigh in an attempt to gain relief from his ever-growing erection.
Doing this with him feels filthy, and yet…so right. Like this had always been where she was meant to be.
“Can you take another finger for me, Sweetheart?”
She’s already a babbling mess so she mumbles out an ‘uh-huh’ and a second finger enters her, filling her up and stretching her out. She wonders if it should hurt, but it doesn’t.
Especially not when his thumb keeps its attention on her clit.
Her mouth falls open into a tiny ‘o’ and her body trembles while more heat continues to pool and drip out of her.
“You’re beautiful. I could watch you like this forever.”
Rey shakes her head ‘No’.
She’s never thought much about her looks one way or the other, but beautiful?
That’s not a word she’s ever used to describe herself.
“You are, Rey. So fucking beautiful and all mine.”
That part she can agree with.
She is his.
All of her.
Just like he is hers.
Desperately, she tries to say that out loud but it’s too difficult forming words when there’s an unfamiliar pressure building up in her lower belly. She whines his name, dragging out the letters in a desperate attempt to get him to understand her needs.
He presses his lips to her temple. “I think someone is about to have their first orgasm.”
She shakes her head ‘No’, not wanting this to be how it happens. “Together. W-Want to cum together.”
Ben smiles wide enough to show his teeth and lovingly whispers, “We can and we will, but let yourself cum like this first.”
“No, not yet.”
He’s clearly trying to be patient with her. “Rey, women can cum more than once. It’s alright–”
But she cuts him off with another defiant shake of her head. “Together, I want it to happen together!”
He gives in with a playful huff. “I almost forgot how stubborn you can be.”
She’s tempted to debate him on that, but the words die on her tongue when his hand is replaced with his torso settling between her thighs.
It was happening—they were about to become one.
She’s never felt more excited and anxious all at once.
Sensing her emotions, Ben runs his hands along the sides of her body. “I feel it too.”
She chuckles at his choice of words, recognizing them from the first time they met.
Guiding the tip of his length to her slit, he breathes in deep to keep in control. As much as he didn’t want to cause her pain, the ache in his balls makes him want to bury himself in deep.
“If I hurt you, I need you to tell me the moment it becomes too much, do you understand?”
“I understand, but you won’t hurt me, Ben. I trust you.”
Hearing this renews his confidence.
No matter what happened next, he would be here to take care of her.
As carefully as he possibly can, he pushes into her. Her walls are slick from being so close to her peak, but still, her face contorts in pain once he’s almost fully inside of her.
Ben stops his movements, allowing her to adjust to his size. He can’t deny how challenging it is to not ram himself into her at full force. She swallowed him up, urging him to fill her with cum.
He focuses on steadily breathing through his nose, holding eye contact as he slowly inches out–watching her face for any signs of discomfort. He works on sliding in and out with slow, calm thrusts.
The resistance of her inner walls starts to lessen. That is until he presses forward—entering her deeper than before.
She winces, making a strangled-sounding noise in the back of her throat.
Ben’s breathing is ragged…uneven.
He would do this right.
He would take care of her.
“Are you alright?”
She responds with a high-pitched, ‘Mhmm’, and he knows she’s lying.
He stops moving altogether and cups the side of her face. Closing his eyes, he sends soothing tendrils of the Force through her, minimizing her sensation of pain so that she doesn’t have to suffer.
Within moments, her face relaxes.
“Better?” he asks and she silently nods in amazement.
He tests the waters by cautiously thrusting his hips into hers and is relieved when she sighs in pleasure.
It isn’t long until those sighs turn into moans as she holds tightly to his shoulders. He feels her legs shifting on either side of him, opening up for him like a flower in bloom.
“Go on, wrap your legs around me.”
His permission has her feeling bold so she brings her legs up, interlocking her ankles behind his back.
The new position has the tip of him brushing some magical part inside of her that makes her feel like she’s soaring and choking all at the same time.
“Fuck,” he swears with a slight tremble in his voice. “You feel so good wrapped around my cock.”
She’d never heard it called that before, but Stars did it sound good when he said it like that. She whines his name, begging for more once she has his attention. He moves his hand between their bodies and finds her clit again.
“B-Ben! F-Feels good. I–” She can’t continue because her eyes are falling closed and her breaths are coming out in shallow gasps.
Behind her eyes, colors splash together in a messy portrait that depicts every action that has led them to this moment. It’s overwhelming to the point that she thinks she might cry, but Ben’s hand slides along her cheek.
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
She does and finds him breathless, panting above her with sweat beading along his brow and his hair disheveled.
He looks wild…needy…and all hers.
“I love you, Rey.”
Her heart swells and fresh tears roll down her cheeks.
“I love you too. L-Love you so much.”
Her words spur him on, he grips her hip in his hand, hard enough to leave markings of his fingertips behind, and picks up the pace of his thrusts.
“N-Need you to cum. I need to feel it.”
He doesn’t have to beg for her to hear his plea.
She nods, the pressure in her stomach from earlier returning.
It’s all too much and yet not enough.
Is this what cumming felt like?
“I…I feel like I might b-break!” she cries out, unsure, but unable to stop her body's natural reaction.
Ben groans, head tilting back for just a moment at the feeling of her clenching even tighter around his cock. He’s so close, just at the very edge, but he wouldn’t fall into oblivion.
Not without his Rey.
“Yes. F-Fuck yes, just like that. Just let go and let yourself cum.”
Her back arches off the floor and her cries go quiet.
“Cum for me sweet girl.”
Then comes the unfiltered and unrestrained song of her orgasm.
Trembling, pure, and breathtaking.
The sheer beauty of it sends Ben over the edge, cumming with a shout of her name and emptying himself inside of her.
He can’t remember the last time he came so hard. Maybe it was never. Maybe only Rey could make him cum like this.
Together they rock through their aftershocks, clinging on tightly to one another as they refill their lungs with enough air to function. When he no longer feels like a newborn fathier, Ben detangles himself from her and lays down on his side.
Rey turns over to face him, coyishly biting her bottom lip. “Hi.”
He hums, slinging his arm over her waist and hauling her to him. “Hi there, beautiful.”
This time when he calls her beautiful, she blushes, burrowing herself into his muscular body. “That was…” She struggles to find the right word to describe what they’d just done.
She tilts her head up, chin resting on his chest, and says the only word she can think of, “Wonderful.”
He grins smugly, brushing his lips against hers before huskily whispering, “You can say that again.”
Rey giggles. She’s never been flirted with before, least of all by the former Supreme Leader. She decides that she likes this new side of him and snakes her arms around his middle for a hug. He hugs her right back, shifting a bit so he’s on his back and she can use him as a pillow.
With her ear placed over his heart and Ben’s fingers running along her spine, it isn’t long before exhaustion creeps into her limbs. She stifles a yawn but there’s no use trying to hide from her dyad.
“Sweetheart, I can sense how tired you are. Why won’t you let yourself sleep?”
She forces herself to lift her head and shakes it, hysteria overtaking her thoughts. “I can’t! Ben, what if when I wake up, you’re gone again? What if this is a dream?”
He firmly takes her face in his hands so she can’t look away. “It isn’t a dream. I’m here, Rey. Do you—”
But his voice goes mute.
His lips move but no sound comes.
“Ben? W-What’s happening?”
Rey watches in horror, feeling him slipping from her.
His form is fading and so is hers. He realizes it too and frantically tries to hold onto her.
“No! Don’t go! Please don’t leave me again!”
She goes to grab his shoulders but her fingers touch nothing but air.
“Don’t, Ben! Please! Come back!”
Rey bolts upwards and finds herself back in her own bed.
Alone.
Sobs wrack her slender frame before she has time to even fully process anything. She cries like a child who’s lost their mother with hot, heavy tears that stain the blanket in her lap.
How could she have been so stupid to think that Ben had actually found his way back to her?
She goes to pull her knees to her chest but is greeted with a throbbing soreness from between her legs. Lowering the blankets, she not only finds that she’s naked, but there is a bit of dry blood on the sheets below her.
How could that be?
Her eyes dart around, looking for any other sign of him but all she finds is a newly forming bruise on her hip.
One that distinctly looks like someone’s hand had been there.
Ben’s hand.
He had touched her.
It had been real.
Rey turns her head to her bedroom window and looks at the rising Tatooine suns with a new sense of purpose.
It was time to go and find her other half so she could bring him home.
