“𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙝𝙞𝙥𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩…𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙 '𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙞𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙨 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩…”
✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘞𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘞𝘦𝘴𝘵’𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴
𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦
You and Wally had only been dating for two months
but it never really felt like only two months.
The way you clicked together, the way you fell into each other’s lives so naturally, it almost felt like you’d been doing this forever. Sometimes, it even felt like being married already—sharing homes, routines, and stolen little moments.
You’d been over to his place a million times, curled up in his bed that carried his cologne so strongly you swore you could practically taste it on the air. And he’d been to your apartment just as often, laughing while he hovered at your side in the kitchen, helping you follow some TikTok recipe that never came out the way the video promised.
And he never missed a chance to show you.
Whenever your make-outs got a little too heated, his nerves would always shine through. He’d pull back just long enough to leave a slick little string of saliva still connecting your mouths, his lips pink and his grin cheeky.
“Taste so good…” he’d murmur, thumb brushing your chin. Or sometimes, he’d breathe out, voice low, “You’re so good at this, babe…” before diving back in and swallowing your next laugh with another kiss.
The only thing really holding the two of you back…
Sure, there were those late nights, 3AM texts when neither of you could sleep. Wally would always complain about how much he missed you—missed the way your perfume clung to his neck after you hugged him goodbye.
Those words alone made you grin in the dark, curling into your pillow as you typed back how much you missed him more—his curls, his warmth, the way they tickled your cheeks whenever he held you close.
But somehow, the texts would always… shift.
One minute, you were being cute. The next, your phone buzzed with a picture—Wally in his pajama pants, a very obvious tent straining against the fabric, followed by nothing but a sad face emoji.
Your cheeks would burn as nervous laughter bubbled up, thighs pressing together without you even realizing, heat pooling between your legs. Then came the videos—his hand sliding over his boxers, voice breaking in a breathy whisper that made your stomach flip,
You hadn’t really seen each other like that yet—not in person. Sexting was as far as it went.
But in real life? Wally was pure sweetness. A total angel. The kind of guy every girl dreamed of. He’d tug out his wallet before you could even reach into your purse, and he never let go of your hand on late-night walks through your neighborhood.
He was the best kind of trouble—gentle and golden-hearted in the daylight… but when the lights went out? Your phone always told a different story.
Saturday nights with Wally had become their own tradition.
Every weekend, like clockwork, he’d come over for what you two called a sleepover—face masks, scrolling through Instagram and roasting random reels, or watching those cheap old movies nobody had ever heard of. It was comfortable. Familiar. Yours.
But tonight felt different.
The moment Wally stepped into your apartment, it was like the air shifted—thicker, warmer, charged with something you couldn’t quite name.
He didn’t seem to notice—at least not in the same way. He swept you up in one of his big, bone-crushing hugs, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before peppering your face in smothering pecks, giggling between each one.
“Hey, babe!” he grinned, burying his nose into your hair and inhaling like he’d been starved of you. He didn’t even try to hide it.
“Wally!” you squealed, laughing as you squirmed in his arms. “Baby—stop, that tickles!”
You tugged him inside, shutting and locking the door as he finally set you down.
Wally dropped his backpack right away, the same one that was always stuffed full—snacks for later, DVDs he’d dug up from thrift stores, even a book or two he’d read aloud to you once you were both curled up and winding down.
It should’ve felt like every other Saturday.
Wally trailed after you as you padded deeper into your apartment, the cozy space already alive with soft lighting and the hum of the TV in the background. It wasn’t loud, not distracting—just the kind of noise that made the place feel lived in. Warm. Safe.
“How was breakfast with Dick?” you asked as you dropped onto the couch.
Wally flopped down right beside you without hesitation, his arm slipping around your shoulders like muscle memory. His touch was casual, familiar—but the warmth of it made your chest tighten anyway.
“Soooo good, babe!” he grinned, throwing his head back dramatically. “We have to go sometime. Their orange juice is, like, otherworldly. Fresh squeezed. Sweet, tangy, basically nectar of the gods.”
You giggled at his over-the-top sigh as he closed his eyes, clearly still daydreaming about it.
“No drama from him?” you teased, shifting so you could look at him properly.
“Mmmm… no, not that I remember,” he murmured, opening his eyes again—only now, his gaze caught on yours. Or rather, on your lips. His words got quieter, his voice softer, like he was already half-distracted by the thought of kissing you.
“No?” you whispered, cupping his warm cheek. Neither of you dared look away, your eyes flickering down to each other’s mouths until it was inevitable—you leaned in, slow and careful, until your lips finally brushed against his.
It was familiar, and still it made your whole body spark.
You pulled back with a sly smile, whispering, “Smell good…”
Color bloomed over his cheeks instantly, and he laughed under his breath. “Thanks… took a shower before I left. Wanted to be ready for my girlfriend.”
That cheeky smile, the constellation of freckles across his face—you swore you’d never get tired of staring at him.
“Ready?” you echoed with a teasing smirk, trailing a finger down his chest. “Ready for what, Mr. West?”
You leaned back against the couch, feigning nonchalance, but Wally didn’t let up. His eyes—bright, hungry—followed every move you made, like he was hanging on the edge of a cliff and you were the one holding the rope.
“Ready to see you,” he whispered, voice low and rougher than usual.
Before you could reply, his hand wrapped gently around your wrist, lifting it to his lips. He pressed a kiss against your knuckles, soft and reverent—then another, higher up your arm. And another. Each kiss pulled him closer, his body leaning over yours until he was hovering, lips brushing your collarbone.
He trailed upward slowly, deliberately, pressing kisses to your throat, the edge of your jaw. Every one left your skin hotter, your head lighter, until you swore the only thing you could think about was how badly you wanted more.
“You’re so warm…” Wally mumbled against your skin, his lips brushing your neck. The words sent a shiver down your spine, but his voice was so soft, so full of awe, it made you smile.
“And you smell so good. Like always,” he sighed, almost like he was drunk on you.
You laughed lightly, the sound bubbling out before you could stop it. His head lifted from the crook of your neck, and suddenly his face hovered over yours—so close, so unrelentingly present.
Your hair spread perfectly against the cushion beneath you, like some kind of halo. Your lashes fluttered, long and soft, framing the way you looked up at him with wide eyes that begged without words. And your lips—slightly parted, still kissed-swollen—God, those lips were everything.
For a second, his thoughts were innocent. Gentle. Look at her. My beautiful girlfriend. How did I get this lucky?
Then reality hit him like a brick.
My beautiful girlfriend is giving me a total boner right now.
Heat rushed to his cheeks as fast as it did to the rest of him. His breath stuttered as he shifted, suddenly all too aware of how close your bodies were, how your thighs shifted ever so slightly beneath him.
“Babe…” he whispered, half a plea, half a warning to himself. His forehead pressed against yours like he was trying to ground himself, but the way his hips twitched made it obvious—self-control was a thin, fragile thread right now.
“Wally, wh—” Your words cut short when you felt it—the hard press against your thigh. Your breath hitched instantly.
His eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “’M sorry! I’m sorry!” he blurted, scrambling upright like he’d been caught committing a crime.
Before you could even process, he snatched up a throw pillow and dropped it on his lap, his movements quick and clumsy. His gaze locked stubbornly on the TV, as if the random sitcom rerun could save him from his embarrassment. His freckled cheeks were practically glowing, redder than his hair.
Your own lips curved before you could stop them, a giggle bubbling up and spilling out. You pressed your hand over your mouth, but it didn’t matter—he heard. He always heard.
Wally’s jaw tightened, and he finally dared a glance at you. Noticing the giggle. The smile. And yet he still pouted, brows furrowing.
What a loser, he thought bitterly. God, she’s laughing. I ruined the moment. Why can’t I just—
“Wals…” you said softly, still smiling, but now with a tilt of your head that was far more tender than mocking.
He tore his eyes away from you, face angled toward the TV again, as if ignoring you could erase what just happened.
But your giggle lingered in the air, warm and teasing, wrapping around him in a way that made his heart race even faster than before.
“That was kinda hot…” you whispered, leaning close enough that your lips brushed his ear.
Wally froze, his whole body locking up. Wait—what—hot?
His head snapped toward you instantly, green eyes wide, searching your face for any sign that you were teasing him. But there was nothing—no smirk, no joking glint. Just your soft, daring voice.
“You’re really big, Wals…” you added, your words feather-light but laced with heat.
He swore he felt the blood drain from his brain and rush straight to his cock, his lips parting as though he’d forgotten how to breathe. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, quivering.
“B-Babe…” he stammered, his voice cracking embarrassingly. His hands twitched at his sides, like he didn’t know whether to pull you closer or bury his face in the pillow on his lap.
He knew he was decent down there, sure—but hearing it from you, his gorgeous girlfriend, the one person who mattered most? It was enough to make his stomach flip and his boxers uncomfortably tight all over again.
“Want you to kiss me again, Wally…” you whispered, a soft whine coating your words as your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.
That was all it took. The pillow went flying to the floor, practically at the speed of light, before Wally’s hands were on your waist, tugging you into his lap. Your knees bracketed his sides, your chest flush with his, and his grip tightened on your hips until you sank down against him—against the very obvious, very hard problem straining beneath his boxers.
“You feel me, baby?” he groaned, his forehead falling to rest against yours, breath hot and uneven. His voice cracked at the edges, full of desperate honesty. “That’s what you do to me… always.”
There was no hiding now. No pillow. No shame. Just you, sitting pretty on his lap, making his whole body tremble with how badly he wanted you.
Was this finally the night? The night he got to feel you, all of you—the night he’d dreamed about a hundred times over?
God, he wasn’t some creep. He wasn’t a pervert. It wasn’t like that. He just loved you so much it ached. Loved you so much he craved every piece of you. Some nights he’d fist himself with your name on his tongue, picturing the way you’d sound when his mouth was buried between your thighs, imagining how sweet you’d taste on his tongue.
But this moment—the way you looked sitting on his lap, eyes blown wide, lips swollen, begging for him—this was the one he replayed in his head the most.
Because when you and Wally finally did this, he didn’t want it to be just fucking. He wanted it to be slow, steady—making love. He wanted to feel every single pulse and squeeze of you wrapped around him, wanted to memorize the way your body welcomed him in for the first time, until he couldn’t take it anymore and spilled inside you, whispering your name like it was holy.
And yeah… maybe he’d been carrying condoms in his backpack for weeks, just in case. Not because he wanted to rush you. But because in his heart, he knew—when the night finally came, he’d want to be ready for you.
His lips found yours again, kissing you soft and steady, tasting you like you were the sweetest thing he’d ever have in his life. Nothing rushed, nothing sloppy—just careful, reverent, like he wanted this moment burned into his memory forever.
I mean, this was your first time together. Might as well make it unforgettable.
You leaned harder into him, your breasts pressing against his warm chest, and you swore you could feel his heart pounding through it. Each beat was frantic, wild, proof that this was just as much for him as it was for you.
God, those tits. The same ones he tried not to stare at during date nights, or in the mornings when you’d stretch under his sheets, the outline taunting him until he had to bite back groans. And now they were right here—pressed against him, his.
You shifted, hips rolling down against the hard length straining beneath his shorts, and the movement pulled a gasp from both of you. Heat pooled in your panties, wetter than you thought was even possible, while his cock brushed right over your clit—exactly where you needed him most.
“Wally…” you broke the kiss, breathless, eyes fluttering shut from the pressure between your thighs.
“Yeah?” he rasped, voice cracking with need. And God, the way his name slipped from your lips in that cute little whine—it damn near undid him. His grip on your hips tightened, knuckles going white, before he slid his hands down to cup your ass in those flimsy shorts you wore to bed.
“Wally!” you whined again, the sound high-pitched and needy, and his breath stuttered at how good it felt to hear you like this. On instinct—pure, reckless instinct—he gave your ass a firm smack.
You moaned, head falling forward against his shoulder, shocking even yourself.
Who was this man? And what the hell had he done with your sweet, bashful Wally West?
“I’m right here, baby… tell me what you need,” he whispered against the crook of your neck, warm breath ghosting over your skin, sending shivers straight to your core.
“Need you…” you whispered, breath shaky as you grabbed his hand—God, it looked so big compared to yours—and guided him under the band of your shorts. His fingertips brushed against your slick heat, and his jaw just about dropped.
“All for me?” he murmured, almost teasing, but his voice broke halfway through, like he couldn’t believe what he was feeling. His green eyes snapped up to your face, and what he saw there—your parted lips, the way you were already trembling—was answer enough.
Your expression begged him to move. To do something. To not stop.
Slow at first, careful, like he was memorizing every second. His fingers traced lazy circles over your clit, testing, learning, making you squirm in his lap.
“God…” he breathed, eyes fixed on you, watching the way your mouth fell open with every soft gasp, the way your hips rocked down against his hand like you couldn’t get enough. He swallowed hard, resisting the urge to speed up, because he wanted to do this right—wanted to learn you.
Your wetness coated his fingers as he moved, and he swore he’d never felt anything so perfect in his life.
“Baby… please. Let me take these off—please,” Wally whispered, voice wrecked, like he was begging for air. Your lashes fluttered as you nodded, the softest “please” falling from your lips.
That was it. That was all he needed.
He slid his hand out from your shorts, already missing the heat there, and helped guide you down flat against the couch cushions. His pulse was racing, his throat dry, because you—his girlfriend, his whole world—were spread out for him like something he’d dreamed about a hundred times.
He slid off the couch and onto his knees, hands trembling a little as he spread your thighs over his shoulders. He kissed your inner thigh first, soft, reverent, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you here. Then his grip tightened, thumbs digging into your warm skin like he needed to anchor himself.
Slowly, carefully, his hands skimmed up until they hooked the waistband of your shorts. His eyes flicked up to yours—checking, always checking—before he tugged them down, slow enough to make you squirm.
When they fell away, he sucked in a sharp breath.
Your panties were soaked. A dark, damp spot right in the center, proof that every whimper, every roll of your hips was all because of him.
He didn’t even wait for an answer before tossing your shorts somewhere—anywhere—and leaning down, pressing his mouth right against that perfect, wet patch. His tongue lapped through the fabric, and your hips jerked instantly, a gasp spilling from your lips.
“God, baby…” Wally groaned against you, already addicted to your taste even through the barrier. “You’re killing me here.”
He pulled his tongue away, and you couldn’t help the needy whine that slipped out.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry…” he whispered, voice low and wrecked as his fingers hooked into the band of your panties. His eyes flicked up to yours one more time—always needing that reassurance, always checking if you were okay.
You gave him a smile, soft and sure, even now. Even when you both knew what was about to happen.
Yup. You were everything he could ever dream of.
He slid the last barrier down, slow and reverent, until the fabric was gone and he was staring—actually staring—at the sight he’d imagined in every fantasy, every restless night with his hand wrapped around himself.
Nothing in his life had ever looked more perfect than you spread open just for him.
And he couldn’t wait another second.
His mouth was on you instantly, lips wrapping around your soaked folds, tongue pressing deep like he was starving. The moment it hit, your back arched and your fingers tangled in his messy ginger curls, a cry slipping out of you before you could stop it.
Wally groaned into your cunt like he’d just tasted heaven, the sound vibrating against your clit. He pulled back for just a second, breathless, lips shining.
“Baby… you should’ve told me sooner you tasted this good,” he mumbled against you, already diving back in. “I mean, I knew—God, I knew you’d taste good, but fuck…”
Then he was gone again, kissing, sucking, making out with your pussy like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. Every stroke of his tongue sent sparks shooting through you, building a heat you’d never felt before.
He stuck his tongue out wide, dragging it all over your folds with a sloppy, happy hum of “aaaah” like he was savoring the taste of his favorite meal. The sight of his stupid, adorable grin while he licked you nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.
Yeah, he could definitely see forever with you—marriage, a home, a life together… and eating you out every single hour of every single day. He knew it already: he was addicted.
“Babeh… please cum on my tongue,” he mumbled, still flattened out against you, every word vibrating through your core. “Need it. Want you to need it…”
Then he was back at it—long laps of his tongue, wet and steady, before focusing in on your clit. Gentle sucks at first, teasing, pulling little gasps from your lips. But the second he felt you trembling under him, he picked up speed, sucking harder, faster, determined to push you over the edge.
Your hands fisted tight in his curls, tugging, grounding yourself as your body shook. “Wally—Wally! Gonna cum—f-fuck, Wally!”
That was all it took. You broke with a scream of his name, thighs clamping around his head as you came hard, release flooding against his tongue.
He groaned into it, eating you up, licking every bit like it was liquid gold. “So good,” he moaned, pulling back just far enough to give your swollen clit one last kiss, tender and worshipful. “So, so, sooo good…”
Wally finally pulled himself away from between your legs, chin slick, lips swollen. His chest was heaving like he’d just run a marathon, but his smile was wide and boyish as he crawled back up your body.
Before you could even catch your breath, his mouth was on yours, crashing into your lips with a hungry, sloppy kiss. You whimpered against him, tasting yourself on his tongue, and his groan rumbled deep in his chest.
“Mm—you taste that?” he mumbled against your lips, his voice all husky and wrecked. “So fuckin’ sweet. I knew you would be.” He licked back into your mouth, kissing you deeper, like he wanted to share every last drop.
His hands, shaking slightly from how bad he wanted you, slid under the hem of your shirt. He tugged it up slowly, giving you just enough time to stop him if you wanted, but your soft arch into his touch told him everything he needed.
Wally broke the kiss just long enough to drag the shirt over your head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. The sight made him freeze for half a second—your bare chest, perfect and soft and right there for him. His lips parted, pupils blown wide, and then he let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.
“Holy shit,” he whispered, almost reverent. “You’re… god, you’re perfect.”
His hands cupped your breasts like he’d been dying to do for forever, thumbs brushing across your nipples as his mouth found yours again—slower this time, but no less desperate.
“So nice and soft…” Wally murmured in awe, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as they hardened beneath his touch.
He couldn’t take it anymore—these stupid shorts had to go.
Reluctantly tearing himself from your chest, Wally yanked his own shirt over his head, curls bouncing as he tossed it to the side. He tugged down his shorts, and there it was again—that straining, desperate outline you’d seen in photos before, only now it was real, right in front of you.
“Shit…” he breathed, almost like he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Then suddenly, with a blur of movement, he abandoned you on the couch and sped toward his backpack by the door. You laughed breathlessly as he scrambled through it like a madman before finally pulling out a golden wrapper.
“Sorry… sorry…” he mumbled, cheeks red, voice frantic but sweet as he zipped back to you.
You giggled softly, propped up on your elbows as he hooked his fingers in his waistband. “How long have you been planning this?”
Wally froze for a half-second, then flashed you a boyish, out-of-breath smile as he shoved his boxers down, freeing himself. His cock sprang up, flushed and dripping with precum at the tip. Your eyes widened, and he caught it.
“I wouldn’t call it planning…” he said between nervous laughs, tearing open the condom with trembling hands, “but I was definitely ready.”
He leaned down, kissing you sweetly, cupping your face in his big warm hands, skin-to-skin now as his chest pressed against yours.
“Daydreamed about this,” he whispered against your lips. “Every second, every moment. You’re so perfect.”
He gave a shaky sigh as he rolled the condom on, hissing softly at the pressure, his eyes never leaving yours. “Gonna make you feel so good… yeah, baby?”
You nodded quickly, pulling him in for another kiss, soft and lingering, while his hips shifted closer. You felt the blunt, leaking tip of him brush against your folds, and the both of you sucked in a breath at the same time.
“God…” Wally groaned, forehead pressing against yours. “You’re already so warm—so perfect for me.”
He moved slowly, carefully, sliding his tip against your slickness, coating himself with your arousal. Not rushing. Not yet. He wanted to remember this—how your thighs trembled against his hips, how your breath stuttered each time he nudged your clit.
With one last kiss against your lips, he eased forward, pushing past your entrance bit by bit.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, his voice soft and shaking, every ounce of him fighting not to move too fast.
Your nails dug lightly into his shoulders, a moan spilling from your lips as he stretched you so slowly, filling you inch by inch.
“That’s it…” Wally whispered, his jaw clenching as he pushed deeper. “Taking me so good, baby… so good.”
Once he was fully seated inside you, he stilled. Completely. His chest heaved as he looked down at you with a dazed, almost reverent expression.
“Holy shit,” he breathed out, eyes locked on yours like you were the only thing in the world. “I could stay right here forever.”
He stayed still for a long moment, letting you adjust, letting himself breathe through the overwhelming tightness that wrapped around him. His nose brushed yours, his lips ghosting soft kisses against your cheek, your jaw, your lips.
Then, finally, his hips rolled. Slow. Careful. Drawing almost all the way out before sliding back in just as gently.
“F–fuck,” he hissed through his teeth, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “You feel… so damn good, baby. So warm… so tight.”
Each thrust was deliberate, dragging against your walls in a way that made you whimper, and he couldn’t stop whispering between every breath.
“I love you—god, I love you so much.”
“Never letting you go. Ever.”
“You’re mine, baby. All mine.”
His lips found your neck, kissing and sucking softly, while his hands roamed your body—your waist, your thighs, back up to cup your breasts with adoration. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t chasing release. He was savoring.
Every time you moaned his name, he’d groan back like he could feel it in his bones.
“Say it again… please. Say my name again.”
And when you did—soft, breathless, needy—it made his hips stutter just slightly, before he slowed back down to that steady, loving pace.
“Yeah… just like that. God, I’m so in love with you.”
You swore—even with his cock buried deep inside you, moving slow and steady—he still gave you butterflies. The kind that fluttered in your stomach every time his lips brushed your ear, every time he whispered something so sweet it made your chest ache.
You were so in love with it.
Everything felt perfect. The way his hands cupped your waist like you were fragile, like he needed to hold you close or risk losing you. The way his thumb smoothed absent little circles into your skin, grounding himself in you as much as he was driving you insane with every slow, deep roll of his hips.
His thrusts weren’t hurried, weren’t desperate—they were measured, savoring every inch of you like he wanted to memorize it. Every drag out. Every push back in that made your breath catch.
“God, you feel like heaven,” he whispered, lips pressing against your temple. “I don’t deserve you, but I swear I’m never letting you go.”
And the way he said it—raw, almost reverent—made your heart race faster than the steady rhythm of his body moving against yours.
With every deep roll, with every loving word, you felt yourself falling even harder for him.
His hips never faltered, slow and steady, rolling into you like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted to savor every single second of being inside you for the first time.
Your nails dragged gently down his back, not even meaning to, just following the rhythm of how good he made you feel. Each deep push had you gasping softly, each slow drag out left you aching to be filled again.
“Easy, baby…” Wally whispered against your lips, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and shaky. “I want you to get there first. Need to see you cum on me before I even think about it.”
The words had your walls clenching tighter around him, making his jaw snap shut with a quiet groan. His thumb found your hipbone, squeezing like he was grounding himself, while his other hand slid down to lace with yours—tangled fingers pressed into the pillow above your head.
“You feel so good,” he kept whispering, his voice breaking just slightly with every push.
The slow grind of his hips angled just right, brushing deeper, dragging deliciously against the spot that made your thighs tremble. And he stayed there, rocking into it, patient and focused—every movement designed to build you higher, slowly, until your breaths came quicker and your soft whimpers filled the room.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he encouraged, kissing along your jaw, savoring the way your body tightened around him. “Let it build, baby. I’ve got you. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
The coil in your stomach wound tighter with each careful thrust, each whispered praise. He wasn’t rushing—he wanted to watch you break apart, to feel it, to earn it.
Wally couldn’t look away.
The way he slid in and out of you had him dizzy, your folds parting so perfectly around him, clinging to him like you never wanted to let go. Every slow thrust coated him in more of your slick, the creamy ring forming thicker with every roll of his hips.
His chest rose and fell unevenly, lips parted as his eyes stayed locked on the place where you connected. The sight alone was enough to make his stomach clench, his pace falter for a second before he steadied himself again.
He dragged out every movement—deep, slow, savoring—just so he could keep watching, keep memorizing how your body welcomed him, how wet you were just for him.
he thought he’d never get tired of this view.
Each deep roll of his hips brushed that sweet spot inside you, making your breath hitch before tumbling into little gasps.
“Baby…” you whimpered, the sound breaking into something higher as he pressed deeper, staying buried just to feel you flutter around him.
“Yeah?” Wally’s voice was low, almost shaky, his eyes flicking between your face and the place he was sinking into you.
“F-feels so good,” you panted, voice growing louder, unable to hold it back as your body clenched around him.
Wally’s hand slid to your stomach, feeling the way your body pulled him in with every thrust. “That’s it…”
Your cries grew sharper, edging toward little screams, and he only whispered more, coaxing you through every wave.
“Let it out for me. Don’t hold it in—I wanna hear every sound. Wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.”
His pace stayed steady, deep and slow, his forehead pressing to yours as you moaned louder and louder beneath him, your body trembling, your voice filling the room.
“Cum for me, baby… let me see it. Please.”
Your thighs shook, body clenching around him as the pressure finally snapped. The scream tore from your throat, your whole body arching beneath him as waves of pleasure crashed through you.
“That’s it—yes, yes—fuck, baby, that’s my girl,” Wally groaned, his voice breaking as he felt you pulse around him. “So beautiful—so good—keep going, let it all out.”
He held himself back, teeth gritted, hips trembling with the effort not to lose control. His hands cradled your face as he kissed you through it, swallowing your cries while his body stayed deep inside yours, letting you ride it all out.
“Love you so much,” he whispered against your lips, voice hoarse, “never felt anything like this—never want anyone but you.”
Your orgasm washed over you in waves, your voice raw as you gasped his name again and again, until you finally slumped back into the couch cushions, trembling, spent.
You were still shaking, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, your skin damp with sweat. Wally hovered over you, his lips brushing over your cheeks, your forehead, whispering little praises as if he couldn’t stop.
“You did so good, baby… god, you’re unreal,” he breathed, his hips still buried inside you, twitching as he tried to keep steady.
But the way your walls still fluttered around him, warm and wet from your release, made it impossible to hold on any longer. His whole body trembled above you, his jaw clenched tight as he kissed you desperately, like a man on the edge.
“Fuck—I can’t—I need—” he choked out against your lips, finally letting his hips roll faster, his restraint snapping.
You cupped his face with shaky hands, pulling him down into a deep kiss, moaning into his mouth as you felt him lose control inside you.
“Wally…” you whispered against his lips, voice hoarse but sure, “I want it...”
That was it. His forehead dropped to yours, his eyes squeezing shut as his thrusts stuttered, a guttural groan ripping from his throat
“Baby—oh my god—fuck—” his voice broke as his release hit him, spilling into the condom while his hips pressed flush to yours, holding you so tight like he never wanted to let you go.
Every pulse of his orgasm had him shaking, his arms trembling as he kept you pinned beneath him, his lips finding yours again and again.
When the waves finally subsided, he collapsed against you, chest pressed to yours, both of you sweaty and breathless. He let out a shaky laugh, kissing the side of your neck.
“Holy shit… that was…” he trailed off, still catching his breath, before pulling back just enough to look at you with soft, glassy eyes.
Wally stayed pressed against you for a long moment, his weight warm and grounding, his heartbeat still racing against your chest. Then he lifted his head just enough to kiss your cheek, your nose, your lips—peppering you in affection until you were giggling softly beneath him.
“Guess I should’ve taken you out to dinner after this,” he whispered, smirking as he brushed damp strands of hair from your forehead.
You rolled your eyes, still breathless, and smacked his bare shoulder. “Wally West… only you would try to make bad jokes right now.”
He grinned, freckles glowing with the faintest blush. “What? You love my bad jokes. Admit it.”
You sighed, pretending to be exasperated, though your smile gave you away.
He kissed you again, slower this time, and when he finally pulled away he was glowing with affection. “I love you,” he murmured. “Like… more than I can ever put into words. Even more than that fresh-squeezed orange juice.”
That made you laugh loud enough for him to bury his face against your neck, his shoulders shaking as he laughed with you.
But eventually, he let out a soft groan, hips shifting as he carefully, slowly pulled out of you. He hissed at the sensitivity, biting his lip before tossing the used condom into the nearby trash. His hands rubbed soothing circles into your hips and thighs, grounding you even as you whined at the sudden emptiness.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, brushing his thumb across your lower stomach as if to check on you.
When you gave him a tired but happy nod, he leaned down to kiss your forehead once more. “Good… ‘cause you deserve nothing less than perfect.”
He carefully tugged your shirt back over you before climbing off the couch, his boxers lazily sliding back up his hips. “Stay put,” he ordered, still playful but gentle. “I’m gonna get a shower started for you. Warm water, soft towels, the whole shebang.”
You tilted your head, teasing, “Since when are you my personal butler?”
He shot you a crooked grin over his shoulder as he padded toward the bathroom. “Since the day I fell for you, babe. Comes with the boyfriend package.”
You couldn’t help but smile, watching him disappear down the hall, already hearing the faint sound of the shower turning on.
