The beast comes to collect a girl from your village every year. When you are chosen, you don't realise that the beast is a man. A man under a curse that only you can break.
A beauty and the beast retelling
Chapter One Chapter Two
Your pillow moved. It was the strangest sensation, like somebody was pushing you to a sitting position from beneath.
You opened your eyes and looked around. Nobody was in your room with you, just the house waking you up.
“What is it?” You asked the castle.
Your door opened and shut, like it was waving at you. You slipped from the bed and walked over to the door.
It was incredible, the way the castle communicated. No words, just gestures. Moving a door like a 'come hither' motion. Candles lighting to lead the way. Magic truly was fascinating.
You walked out of the room and followed the steadily lighting candles down the hall. The castle led you down the stairs, your every movement silent against the carpet, your hands holding the skirt of your nightgown against your body.
"Where are we going?" You wondered out loud as the castle led you down the same halls Charles had taken you down just earlier in the day.
The kitchen doors opened and shut, waving to you. You strode forward and stepped through the doors.
The kitchens were alive. Well, more alive than you'd seen it thus far. Lights on, the smell of good food, and lively chatter. This wasn't the castle of the beast.
One man sat at the table, an instrument in hand. He pushed his blonde hair away from his eyes as he talked to the man cooking. Shorter, dark hair and dark eyes. But he was pretty. He was so damn pretty.
The cupboards opened and shut in a rhythmic manner.
Both men stopped their chatter. They turned towards you, surprise on both of their faces. But then the blonde smiled. "She said she was bringing somebody to meet us!" He cried and patted the table.
Your eyes widened in surprise. "You speak to the castle?" You asked him, stepping closer. But you were still conscious that you were interrupting something, An intimate moment between men who considered each other friend.
"He thinks he speaks to the castle," said the dark haired man by the cooker. "She communicates to us, in her own way. She told us that we needed to cook, so we started cooking."
You looked between the two of them. There was already some food on the table, steam rising from the dishes. "I feel like I'm interrupting something," you confessed, your grip on your skirt tightening.
"Come off it," the blonde said, putting his instrument down. "None of us can taste anything, so Yuki did this all for you," he said and gestured to the seat opposite him. "Come, sit down."
The chair moved on it's own accord, inviting you to the table. You stepped forward and sat in the chair. But it still felt uncomfortable, being the only one to eat.
You gave them your name, a polite introduction. They introduced themselves back. Liam and Yuki. Human. Just like Charles, you thought them to be utterly human. But you knew better than that.
"Why can you not eat?" You asked, leaning forward. Your stomach made a noise, but you didn't yet reach for the steaming dishes.
Liam shrugged his shoulders. "Can't eat. Can't sleep. Can't die. Can't age," he mumbled, letting his instrument rest against the wall behind him. "Can't leave this fucking castle."
"What he means to say is that food tastes like shit to us. We don't need to rest and we've been alive a hundred years, never growing old," Yuki finished.
Reaching across the table, Liam pushed one of the dishes towards you. "Eat up," he said.
You obeyed. Your stomach quietened as you began eating. The aroma of the food, the taste of it was incredible. Like nothing you'd eaten in the years living in the village. If this was the treatment 'guests' of the beast got, why did they ever want to leave?
You released a noise from your lips, an embarrassing, broken moan. "This is incredible," you mumbled, settling back in your seat.
"Glad you think so," Yuki said, placing the final dish down and sitting between yourself and Liam. "When the master said you weren't coming down for dinner, I didn't think I'd get to cook tonight."
You sucked in a steadying breath. Eat don't. I don't care. That was what he had said. "I didn't think he would allow you to cook for me," you confessed as you grabbed another disk. Just to taste what else Yuki had to offer.
"What did you do to piss him off?" Liam asked.
You thought back to the library. He seemed to get angry so quickly all because... what? You had been staring at him, at his. Pulling your lips between your teeth, you tried not to smile. "I was staring at his horns," you confessed.
"That will do it," Yuki replied, his voice no more than a mutter.
"He's very sensitive about those."
You looked between the two men. "I gathered."
Yuki and Liam made themselves easy to talk to. They answered any questions you had, but the conversation was much more than just about the magic. You understood it better now. You understood how the curse worked, how it came about, what it meant for the men who had once been part of the castle staff.
But not even they understood what happened to Max. The transformation he undertook, the beast he became.
At least now you understood why he was sensitive about his horns.
But the evening became night and you grew more and more tired. Hunger and the castle was no longer going to keep you awake, not now that your belly was full.
"I should retire," you said to the two men.
Liam and Yuki rolled their eyes. "Must be nice," one of them said, but you couldn't tell which one. Both of their grins told you all you needed to know about the statement, pulled your own smile from your lips.
"Sleep tight," Yuki called as you disappeared out of the door.
Immediately, the sconces lit up, guiding you back towards your bedroom. "That was very kind of you," you said to the castle as you walked back, your voice little more than a whisper. "I was starving."
The castle gave no response, no indication that she had heard you at all. But you knew she had, you knew she understood your gratitude.
Entering your bedroom, you carefully shut the door and sat on your bed. The candle by your bedside lit up as you climbed beneath your blanket.
***
"Show me her."
Max was getting sick of that phrase. His mirror should've shown him you every time he picked it up.
But it glowed bright before you appeared. You, sitting in the castle kitchens, indulging in the food made for you by his chef. Good food, he remembered from well over a hundred years ago. If he still got hungry, if he still had the ability to taste, he would have been salivating at the sight.
But it wasn't the food he cared about.
It was you.
You, laughing and smiling with two of his old staff. Even had they explained the curse to you, your expression didn't drop. You weren't disgusted and scared the more you learnt about it, about him. No, you were fascinated.
Just as he was fascinated with you. He watched the way you walked back to the room, talking to his castle all the while. His castle, the cursed being it was, truly liked you.
More than liked you. The castle cared for you.
He put the mirror down as pain filled him, as it did every other night. He took off his clothes, stripped down to nothing before the change destroyed them. That was a trick he had learnt in the early days of the curse.
Fur sprouted on his body. His nails and teeth elongated into tusks and claws. Even his ears changed, becoming furry and pointed, like that of an animal.
Only his eyes, horns and tails remained the same.
He became the monster you so feared. The monster you would one day love, if his mirror wasn't lying.
That wasn't a fate he wanted for you.
Abandoning his mirror, Max walked. It was easier to walk on all fours, his conformation preferring it. He really was a monster, a beast. An animal.
He stalked through the halls of his castle. The lights flickered off as he did so, dimming the world around him. But his eyes allowed him to see.
He walked past your room, his footfall heavy. Heavy enough to wake you, if he wanted it to be. But he didn't want it to be.
Show me her. He didn't have to say it for the castle to know what he wanted. Your door slowly swung open, the hinges making an effort not to make a sound, not to squeak with it's movements.
He could see you. Your head against the pillow, blanket covering your body.
The castle was cold. Freezing cold. During the day it was gorgeously warm, not boiling, but not creating cold in the shade. But at night, there was no warmth to be found. The castle tried. She really tried, but there was little she could do.
He stepped into your room.
You had to be cold. You didn't shiver, like your body wasn't awake enough for it. But Max knew what he would find if he touched you. Skin like ice.
The cupboard in the wall, disguised to look like nothing more than a pattern in the wood, opened. On his hind legs, Max pulled out a blanket. He could still walk and talk like a man in his beast form, but he found it more comfortable on all fours and his voice was gravelly.
He was gentle with the blanket, stopping his claws from tearing through it. He laid it over your body and you immediately seemed to settle. Your body relaxed as you subconsciously grabbed the blanket and tugged it closer.
Max left your room and the door shut silently. He continued on through the castle. It was a lonely, boring existence, being the beast of the castle. His old staff avoided him and Max understood why.
It was his fault, afterall.
His fault that they had all been cursed, his fault they could never live their lives. Their families had ages and died, leaving them behind over a hundred years ago. More than that, he suspected, but it was hard to remember.
The village just beyond the castle was alive. It always was a night after he took someone that the celebrations began. Before you entered his castle, you would have joined in with the celebrations. Another year of being free from him.
But now you weren't free from him. You were in his clutches, never to leave until you died. Either by his hand or your own.
Just a few days until he lost you.
Max watched the sunrise. Tomorrow he would have to face you as this monster. He didn't want to watch you flinch away from him when you saw his face. The way you stared at his horns. You would hate the rest of him, he knew. You would scream and cry and cower in fear at the sight of his claws and teeth.
The sunrise was beautiful. It was always beautiful. Every morning, the sky going from black to orange to blue. His kingdom was beautiful, even if it wasn't really his anymore.
He looked down, watched as Charles completed his morning ritual. He stretched before he ran towards the castle gates. But he could get no further than that, his body just stopping, unable to go forward. "Fuck!" He shouted.
Hundreds of years of this. Hundreds of years of watching Charles try to leave, unable to.
Were you awake yet? You would be able to leave. You would be able to walk out of the castle gates, no problem. You wouldn't be held back by some invisible force.
A stabbing feeling shot through his chest as he thought about you leaving. But he knew what it was like to be trapped. You shouldn't have to feel that way.
pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader
summary: in which you don't read the label on the chocolates OR you and max accidentally eat aphrodisiac chocolates and get too horny on vacation.
warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT. all smut. degradation, spitting, fingering, dirty talk, filthy filthy, slight breeding kink, mean!max, edging, language...NOT PROOFREAD (might be some typos or things that don't make sense lol), cute ending
word count: ~3.9k
author's note: SURPRISE!!!! ITS A DAY EARLY ;) this is a continuation to an anon request!!! i wrote a cl16 AND ln4 version of this. UP NEXT: OP81
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You should’ve read the label before eating them.
Some little box tucked in the corner of the welcome basket, tucked beneath bottles of wine and a note from one of Max’s sponsors. You didn’t think about it twice. Why would you?
Just ripped it open with sun-warm fingers and let a piece melt on your tongue. Then fed Max some. Let his lips wrap around your fingers. Slow, tongue brushing against your knuckle. Eyes locked on you.
Humming at how good it was.
You laughed. And neither of you thought twice about it.
You were both stretched out on the daybed, high up in the cliffs, where no one could see you but the ocean. Linen cushions under you, a light breeze, and the ocean humming.
Your body is still damp from the pool. Bikini clinging to your skin tightly. And Max is lying next to you in nothing but a dark pair of swim trunks. Waistband pushed dangerously low on his hips. One leg bent. One arm behind his head. Comfy. Happy.
The way he always is when its just the two of you.
You’d been talking about something. Nothing important. Just a lazy conversation that happens between the stretches of silence.
He’s half-laughing, fingers ghosting down your arm every once in a while.
About thirty minutes go by, and something in you shifts.
It’s not all at once. Slow. A subtle ache in your belly. Your bikini bottoms sticky. A wetness you hadn’t noticed before. Thighs clenching automatically.
Max lets out a breath next to you. Like something in him changed too.
You don’t look over right away. Because the ache doesn’t stop.
It spreads like a fucking wildfire.
Low and deep and pulsing between your legs. As if your body decided to speed past the arousal and straight into desperation.
You try to cross your legs, needing some sort of pressure. But it doesn’t even help in the slightest bit. If anything, it makes it worse.
Then you heard him.
A quiet, “Fuck.”
You turn your head.
He was still laying on his back. But no longer relaxed. In fact he was ramrod straight. Jaw tight. Eyes shut. A hand still behind his head, but the other now fisting the edge of the cushion.
Swim trunks tight over his hips.
And lower….
You swallowed hard.
He turns to look at you, slowly opening his eyes.
“What the fuck was in that chocolate?” He asks, voice rough. Low.
You blink. “I don’t…Uh,…I didn’t read the…”
His gaze drops to your legs. The way your thighs were pressed together like you could stop it. Like you weren’t fucking dripping.
You try to play it cool. Try to make it seem like your cunt isn’t clenching on nothing. Again and again. Begging to be filled.
He feels his cock twitch at the sight of it. Your thighs pressed together like some common whore.
“You’re squirming.”
You breathe in. Swallow.
“I’m just…I’m just hot.”
He hums. But it’s not kind.
And he watches the little shift in your breathing. The twitch of your muscles.
His cock twitches in his swim suit.
And he smirks.
“Just a bit of chocolate and what?” He laughs. “Now you’re lying here thighs pressed together like a fucking slut.”
You flinch. Eyes widening. And he grins even bigger.
“This what gets you wet now?” His voice teasing. “Candy?”
“Max…”
“No. Go on. Tell me.” His eyes trail down your chest, landing on your hips. “Is your pussy this wet because of the candy? Or is it because you let me suck it off your fingers like a good little whore.”
You suck in a sharp breath. Hips jerking.
He laughs. Mean.
“Oh, you liked that, yeah?”
You nod. Whimpering.
He moves closer. Fingers reaching for your skin, pulling your legs apart just a little bit, trailing up your thigh, stopping right near your core.
“Bet if I pulled your bottoms to the side, you’d be fucking leaking onto the daybed.”
And its not a question. It’s a statement.
He’s on his side now. Watching you, propped on his elbow, cock visibly straining against the thin fabric.
“Poor, liefje.” He coos. Mockingly. “Trying so hard to act normal. Bet your pussy’s fucking pulsing.”
You moan, barely. Head falling back. Chest rising.
“Go on, pretty. Rub your thighs together all you want. Let that needy little cunt grind against nothing. See if that makes you feel any better.”
“You’re being mean.”
His smile twists. Darker. Meaner.
“You should’ve read the fucking label.”
You don’t speak. You can’t.
“I trusted you, you know?” He mutters. “Handed me that chocolate like it was a fucking game.”
His jaw clenches.
“And now I’m sitting here with my cock fuckin’ aching…and you’re…” He glances at your thighs again for a quick second. “Dripping on the cushions like a fucking whore.”
He shifts, kneeling beside you now. “And the worst part?” He leans toward you. Noses almost touching. “It’s your fault.”
His fingers still rest on your thigh. Squeezing it. Trailing to the fabric of your bikini with two fingers, dragging it. Slow.
Until you’re exposed.
“Oh, fuck me.” He groans. “You’re soaked. Fuckin’ soaked, schatje.”
And he laughs. It’s almost cruel.
“Dripping. All from what? A piece of chocolate and some dirty talk?”
You whimper, hips twitching as the cool air breezes against your hot core.
“You look like you’d let me fuck you right here.”
And you whimper. Pushing your head deeper against the cushion behind you. Sunglasses pushed up on your head.
“Not even trying to hide it, huh?” He spits. “Too fucking dumb from being so horny, yeah? Can’t even keep your hips still.”
You nod. A lot. Fast. It’s almost pathetic.
“You gonna admit it?”
You blink at him. “Admit what?”
“That you’re clenching around nothing. Aching for my fingers. For my cock.”
He leans in closer.
“Say it.” He demands. “Or I won’t touch you.”
Your voice quivers, “Max, please…I’m so wet.”
He raises a brow, smirk growing. “Sorry…what was that?”
You feel your cheeks redden. “I’m wet,” your voice is louder. “Fuck. Max…I’m fucking aching for you.” You sound frustrated. Annoyed almost.
And his smile is wicked. “There’s my liefje.”
“I should make you fuckin’ beg. Keep you like this for hours…because this…” He slips two fingers between your folds. “Is what I have to deal with.”
You jolt from his touch. Whimpering.
“Sensitive already, hm?” He grunts. “Fuck, I could probably make you cum just by spitting on you. Needy little cunt.”
And you try to close your legs. Clench them.
But he grips your thighs and forces them to stay open. Rough.
“Keep them open, schatje.”
His voice is so mean, but it only makes you ache more. “I’m so fucking hard that it’s making me fucking sweat. Can feel my cock leaking.”
Your breath hitches as he sinks his fingers into you.
“You know,” he says, like its a normal conversation. Like his fingers aren’t curling in your cunt. “We’re supposed to be relaxing.”
And his one arm gestures to the view. The pool. The cute villa. The ocean.
“Summer break. No work. No races.” His fingers curl just a bit more. And your mouth falls slack. “Was supposed to be quiet. Easy. Nap in the sun, maybe fuck you slow after dinner.”
He clicks his tongue, eyes dragging over you. The way your tits rise. The way your thighs are twitching. You’re a mess. And he looks fucking furious about it.
“And instead I’ve got this.” And pushes in another finger just to prove a point. It has you jolting.
“Squirming on this cushion like a needy little bitch who can’t sit still.” He huffs. “Legs twitching and pussy leaking in the middle of the day.”
You whimper. Lip quivering.
“My dick’s been leaking since you moaned the first time.”
And you whimper. Quietly. But he hears it. His jaw clenches.
“Max…”
“No. Don’t ‘Max’ me.” He cuts you off. “You did this.”
He leans in closer. Fingers moving with a more hurried pace.
“You fed me that chocolate.” His voice drops. “Now I’ve got my cock pulsing in my suit, you’re cunt’s crying for me, and you expect me to be fucking calm?”
His voice is shaking. Fingers twitching.
Your walls squeeze against his fingers. And he hisses in a sharp breath of air.
“Have to spend my afternoon with a fuckin’ brat whining for my cock.” He places a soft bite on your shoulder. “Like shoving my cock in you is the only thing that will help your poor cunt calm down.”
He can feel your cunt squeezing him. See the rapid rise and fall of your chest. Your cheeks redden. All the tell tale signs.
And he pulls his fingers away. And you cry out from the loss of his touch.
“You don’t get to come yet.” His voice is fucking flat. “Not until I say so. Not until you earn it.”
He presses his fingers back to your cunt, slow. Teasing. “Should rub this needy cunt for hours. Edge you over and over until you’re sobbing for it.”
You let out a small sob, hips grinding against his finger tips.
And he pulls his fingers away almost instantly.
“No.” He grunts.
Presses his soaked fingers to your lips. “Open.”
And you do.
He groans as you suck his fingers. His hips twitching just slightly. Eyes not leaving from his fingers in your mouth.
“That’s it, pretty.”
He palms himself with his other hand, groaning. His eyes darkening. Almost feral looking.
He leans toward your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”
Presses a soft kiss to the nape of your neck.
Lips hovering over you ear. Soft.
“Now say thank you.”
Your narrow your eyes. Fucked out of your mind. Glaring at him.
“Let me hear it. You’re gonna lie here like a good girl, and thank me for taking care of your soaking needy pussy while I’m leaking into my fucking suit."
“Th…thank you, Max.” You whimper. “For taking care of my needy pussy while you’re supposed to be relaxing.” You manage to get out. Sarcastically. Frustrated.
And his cock twitches.
He leans over you now, on his knees, jaw tight. Slipping his hand back down between your thighs. Dragging his fingers between your folds again. Not pushing in. Like he’s testing you.
“Ohhh, liefje.” He clicks his tongue. “you’re lucky I haven’t fucked the attitude out of you yet.”
The air is hot against your skin.
“Messy little thing,” He grunts. Watching his fingers move. Pressing the pads of his fingers against you. Still not pushing in.
Your hips twitch.
“You want it?” He tilts his head. “Want my fingers inside?”
You nod. Begging. Eyes pleading.
And he laughs. But it sounds like he’s struggling. Like he’s using every ounce of control to not push his suit down and fuck you into the cushion.
“My cock’s fucking throbbing, schatje. Feels so heavy.” He mutters. “You have no idea how bad I want to be inside you.”
And he pushes two fingers in. You moan. Back arching. Loud.
And he’s locked the fuck in.
Watching your pussy clench around him. Groaning.
“Fuckin’ squeezing me.”
He moves them, slow. Dragging.
“Y’hear that?” He grunts. “Pussy’s fucking crying for me.”
And you’re gripping the cushion. Gasping. The heat in your stomach building fast.
And he leans over you. Mouth at your ear again. One hand putting his weight onto your thigh.
“Don’t you fucking come.”
Your hips move. You’re so close. Right there.
He drags his thumb to your clit. Circles it a few times. Slow. Fucking brutal.
“You wanna?” He huffs. “Wanna come on my fingers? Soak me like a fucking slut?”
You’re panting. “Please….Max…”
“I know.” He slows his fingers. “I know you need it.”
And he speeds his fingers up. Pushing in and out of you deeper. Curling his fingers.
And right as your body seizes up. Your orgasm about to rip through you.
He pulls his fucking hand away.
And you scream.
Twitching. Clit pulsing.
“Fuckin’ hell…Look what you’re doing to me.” He palms his cock, the fabric stained with a wet spot. And he’s so hard.
His head is cocked. Eyes blown. Fingers covered in your slick.
He grabs your bikini top. Fisting the fabric and shoves it up. Nipples so hard from how worked up you’re feeling. And they bounce free.
He groans.
He palms himself again. Once.
Then reaches greedily, pinches your nipples between two fingers. And you whimper.
“So fucking pretty…look at you…” He whispers, before leaning down and bites.
Not a hard bite. Just enough to make your back arch when his mouth closes around your nipple. Sucking. Tongue swirling. Teeth grazing.
And his other hand returns to your folds. Pushing into your cunt with two fingers. Deep.
He sucks harder on your nipple, groaning against you.
Curling his fingers just right.
And you’re squirming.
“You like this, huh?” He hisses. “Like when I shove your top up and suck your tits like they’re mine?”
“Ye…yeah,” You are gasping.
He groans, pressing kisses to your breasts. “You sound fucking wrecked.”
And he looks kind of calm. His brows are focused like he’s studying. Smirking. Licking his lips.
“Y’gonna come already?”
You nod. And he slows down his movements instantly.
“You think you deserve it?” He pulls his fingers out, slow. Holding them up. “Look at this fuckin mess.”
His fingers are glistening. Covered in you.
He brings them to his mouth. Sucks them fuckin’ clean. Moaning at the taste.
“Fuck, schatje.” He pulls his fingers out with a ‘pop’. “Tastes so good.”
Max moves lower onto the day bed, almost laying down on the day bed.
And then his fingers are back. Pressing into you so filthy that you’re arching. Shoving them deep. Hard. Still slow.
“You wanna come?” He picks up the pace. “Say it.”
You gasp. “Max…please.”
“Not good enough.” And he’s pressing his thumb to your clit. Rough. “Tell me what you want.”
You’re grinding into his hand. Begging for more. Aching.
“I…plea…Max. I need….” You’re breathless. His fingers not giving up. Curling inside of you. “I need to..”
And he laughs.
“Need?” He repeats. “No. You fucking want it. You want to come all over my fingers like a pathetic whore, yeah?”
And the heat in your stomach hurts.
And he leans in. Breath on your cheek. “Don’t.”
Your body jerks against his, about to come.
He pulls his fingers out again.
And you fucking scream.
“Y’gonna come if I put my mouth on you?”
And your breath hitches at the bare thought of it. Eyes glassy. A whimper pushing past your lips.
“Too fucking bad.”
But then he drops between your thighs. And licks.
One heavy drag of his tongue against you. And you careen forward with a sharp cry before falling back down to the cushion.
He groans against you. Hands digging into the skin of your thighs as he opens you wider. As he buries his face into your cunt. Tongue lapping you greedily.
And Max?
He’s grinding himself against the cushion of the day bed. Rutting himself against the bed. Cock dripping against the fabric.
And he’s fucking panting.
“Fuck, baby… fuck. Fuck. I can’t…” His hips are jerking into the cushion. Rutting into it. Desperately. Messy.
Nose nudging your clit. Burying his face into you like he’s feasting.
His hips jerk harder against the cushion, and then he’s fucking coming. His body shuttering as he watches you suck his fingers win.
“Fucking fuck…” His voice is wrecked. “Go on. Come for me…you deserve it. Fuck.”
His thumb drags against your clit again. And your back arches. Thighs clamping around him.
“Oh fuck..fuck…Max.”
“Yeah,” he’s groaning. “That’s it.”
His mouth sucks over your clit. Hard.
And you crash. Pussy clamping down against his fingers. Pulsing. And body trembling.
But he doesn’t give you any time to recover.
He’s breathing hard and his cock is still hard in his soaked suit.
He grabs your hips. Voice cracked. “Get on top of me.”
And you blink. Dazed. “What?”
But he’s already pulling you against him as he sits down. Dragging you over him.
“I need to be inside you,” voice dark.
And when he see’s you hesitate, not because you don’t want to, but because your head is spinning. His voice comes out harsh. “Now, schatje.”
You snap back. Don’t hesitate.
“You’re gonna ride me…pull my fucking cock out and sit on me.”
Your fingers push the waistband of his swimsuit lower…and fucking christ. His cock smacks his stomach. Flushed. Red. Leaking.
You wrap your hand around it, and he groans. Head tilted back.
And you sink down on him. Slowly. Trying to take him inch by inch. Tease him a little.
And it isn’t until he’s fully bottomed out in you that he lets out a laugh.
And you feel everything.
You rock your hips only once and Max fucking loses it.
Snaps.
Hands digging into your hips as his rises off the cushions, just a little bit. His grip is bruising.
“Move.” He spits. “Ride me. I don’t fucking care how…just do it.” He’s demanding. Mean. Feral.
And you start to move. Circling your hips. As you pant. Head leaning against his shoulder.
“Fuck…fuckin’ look at you,” He huffs.
You moan. Too loud.
“Shut the fuck up.”
And he slaps your butt. Hard. The sound echoing.
He slams up into you, and you cry out. Eyes rolling.
“Pathetic,” he grunts. “Feel how deep I am, huh? Like my personal fuck toy.”
Your thighs are shaking. Clit dragging against his pelvis as you start bouncing on him.
It’s messy and soooo desperate.
And Max just laughs at you. His neck flushed red.
“I can’t…fuck. I can’t hold…” He bucks up into you. “Too fucking tight, so wet…ride me harder. Please, baby.”
And you do.
You fuck yourself on him harder. Faster. Slamming down on his cock with every single bounce. And you can barely breathe.
You’re babbling. Moaning. Panting. Cursing his name into his shoulder.
“Come with me,” He begs. “Fuckin’ come with me, baby…please…C’mon..”
And you break.
You snap around him. Orgasm ripping through you. Clamping down on his cock so hard that Max shouts. And he spills inside of you.
And its so much.
Hot, sticky spurts pushing deep as he jerks his hips. Your name falling out of his mouth with pleas.
You collapse on to his chest. Trembling.
And Max?
He’s still inside you.
Doesn’t soften. Not even the slightest amount.
Somehow still fucking hard.
And your legs are shaking as he flips you over. Hands gripping your hips like he’s about to destroy you.
You barely manage a breath before he’s shoving your knees into your chest, folding you. One hand pressing into the back of your thigh, holding them there. Your soaked cunt spilling his come down onto the cushion beneath you.
The other wraps around your throat. Pressing.
And he looks like he wants to eat you the fuck alive.
Controlling.
His cock twitches as he presses it back to your entrance. Slamming into you.
And you sob. Back arching. So full and wet.
“Still so tight.” His fingers squeeze your throat just a little bit harder.
And your mouth falls open with a loud moan.
And he spits right into it. Hitting your tongue, dribbling down your lip. And you don’t even have to think about it…you swallow. Lick your lips for more.
And Max moans as if he just came again.
“My god, you’re fucking mine.”
And he fucks into you harder. Relentless. Like he needs to chase this feeling.
“Fuckin’ look at this mess. Hear how wet you are?” Your hands fist the sheets.
“You’re so loud baby. It’s disgusting. This isn’t how a good girl fucks.”
And he slaps your thigh.
You’re panting. Gasping against the grip of his hand. And he feels every breath through his hand.
He leans in close. Voice fucking filthy.
“This is how you wanted it, huh?” Wanted to get me all fucked up.”
He’s cruel. Pounding into you with such urgency as you nod. Lips still parted.
He rubs the pad of his thumb against your jaw. “My filthy fuckin’ slut. Letting me choke you. Spit on you. Pounding you like I’m trying to fuck a baby into you.”
And your walls clench down on him. Hard.
And he snarls. “Ohhh, you like that?” He tilts his head a little. “Want me to fill you up? Stuff you so full. Get you swollen with my baby.”
And you’re twitching now. Moaning. Head tilted back deep into the cushions.
And his hand leaves your throat. Only for a second. Only to slap your cheek. Once. It’s light, but its enough to make your eyes snap back open.
“Eyes on me, schatje.”
You’re dazed. Cheeks flushed red.
“C’mon give it to me.” Max urges you.
And you instantly do.
Your orgasm ripping through you again. Spasming around him. Squeezing him so tight that Max loses it.
He slams in three times. Then groans like he’s been punched. Spilling into you.
You’re leaking. Can barely breathe. And he’s panting above you. Shoulders shaking.
And then he brushes your jaw again. Leaning forward and kisses you.
Soft.
So soft. You whimper against his lips.
And he kisses you slow. Messy. Breathing in your whimpers.
And then he’s kissing you deeper. Like he’s hungry.
Slipping a hand into your hair, the other still at your jaw. His tongue licks into you. And you sigh into him. Melting.
He groans into you.
“Can’t believe how fucking good you feel.” He mutters. “Unreal, baby.”
You whimper. Too sensitive. And he kisses you again. Quick. Soft.
“You okay?” He brushes his noses against you. Kissing the corner of your mouth. Then your cheek. Jaw. And then under your ear.
You nod. Slowly.
“Good,” He grins. “Because I’m not pulling out yet.”
Then he quiets. Smiles. A real smile. Like something has settled in his bones.
His fingers trace your cheek. Caring.
“You’re gonna marry me.”
You gasp. But you’re not surprised
He kisses your cheek. The crinkled skin by your eyes. Your forehead. Still inside you. Holding you tight.
“You’re gonna wear my ring,” he mutters. “Take my name. And be my fucking wife.”
Your hear pounds in your chest.
“Would you want that?” His voice is low. Hushed against your lips. “Want to belong to me? Forever?”
You nod. A small whimper. “Yes.”
“Say it.” Its a little demanding. But then his eyes soften. “Please?”
“I want to be yours…” Your voice is soft. “Forever, Max.”
He groans, pushing himself in closer to you. His full weight pressing against you now.
“You are.” He pecks your lips. “Every fuckin’ inch of you. It’s all mine.”
He flexes his hips just once. Just enough to make you gasp.
"In the end, fate and timing do not just happen out of coincidence. They are products of ardent desire and earnest, simple choices that make up miraculous moments. Being resolute, making decisions without hesitation—that is what makes up timing. He was more ardent, and I should've had more courage. It wasn't the red lights, nor the timing that was bad, but the countless times I hesitated."
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gummygunk
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