You arrive at Robby's apartment block not long after. It's not a skyscraper like some others in Downtown, but it's still high enough that you need to crane your neck sharply.
It isn't until he jostles his arm, the one you still have your hands wrapped around, that your attention is brought back to him.
You catch the glimmer of the keychain and fob Robby had used to unlock the door he now opens before your eyes track upwards. He's already watching you with a quirk on his lips, one that's almost hidden behind his beard. But, like always, his amusement is noticeable through the creases beside his eyes.
He ushers you inside, your hands dropping from his arm as he lets you step into the building first. But the point of contact simply shifts from you holding onto him to his touch brushing the small of your back.
The elevator is already waiting for you on the ground floor and Robby lets you step into it first after he pushes the button. He isn't far behind. Simply a foot and a bit. It's just enough to not crowd you but still let you feel him close.
As you settle against the metal railing on one side, you watch how Robby's muscle memory kicks in.
It looks well-practised, reflexive, as he leans against the railing opposite you and reaches to push a button for one of the higher floors.
The elevator kicks into life, rocking upward to begin the ascent.
Even if you and Robby stand on opposite sides of the elevator, the metal box is small enough that he isn't more than a step away from you. It makes it impossible to look at anything else, especially with how he's standing, hands shoved in his front pockets, shoulders hunched as he leans —more so is partly seated, considering his height— on the railing behind him.
Your eyes drag over his form, up to the line of his beard, lips and nose, only to settle once your gaze meets his. But your eyes only stay connected to Robby's for a second before he averts them to the floor.
The drop of his gaze evolves into a shake of his head, followed by his somewhat awkward chuckle as he admits, "I don't do this."
You don't know exactly how he would specify this. Inviting someone over after a first date or dating in general. You guess you knew he didn't do the second, at least from the sounds of it, so you settle on interpreting it as the first.
"Yeah, no, me neither," your chuckle escapes through your nose, short and leaning more towards a slightly disbelieving huff.
Brown eyes return to you even if Robby's head stays ducked. As they do, it's your turn to look elsewhere, eyes shifting sideways to watch the numbers slowly change on the display above the doors.
The movement in your periphery makes you unconsciously look back —noting how Robby has moved to stand in front of you— yet you don't have a chance to move your head before a few fingers notch under your chin, angling it straight with a slight pull.
While his hand drops from your face once your attention is on him again, Robby doesn't retake his previous position. He stays standing in front of you with a smile tugging his lips.
"I could've guessed."
"Yeah?" The word is drawn out, your mind replying the way he'd gently urged you to look at him.
"Your cross-examination isn't so subtle as you would like," he says, voice teasing and light.
"It's not meant to be. I want to scare off those who want easy."
For a moment, Robby just looks at you, and you look back at him. His brown eyes don't flitter away this time.
When he sighs, it isn't strained but soft. With a dip of his face, he notches his head lower, slightly angled to his chest, seemingly trying to fall to your eye level without actually crouching.
"I'm serious about not expecting anything to happen."
You can't help but smile as you inhale slowly, exhaling as you nod. "I know."
"Good."
"But-" Robby's eyebrows raise questioningly. "-you're standing awfully close for someone saying that. That nothing needs to happen."
His lips flatten into a line as he rocks on his feet, more backwards than forwards, even if he doesn't step in either direction.
"Do you mind?"
You can't keep away the smirk pulling at your mouth as your fingers anchor in his belt loops, giving them a slight tug. It's not more force than the crooking of your fingers could conjure, yet it's enough to decide which way Robby finally moves.
"No." Your head cranes backwards, falling to rest against the metal wall as you finally answer him. "I like having you close."
Robby's head drops, his deep and slow breathing… not really fanning, but stirring the air over the skin of your throat. The sensations cease as he speaks, "Don't know what I'd do if you didn't."
That's not true.
If anything, Robby was respectful. He'd proved that to you during the evening. If you changed your mind and wanted him to stop, you know he would. If you wanted this to just be a sleepover? He would probably say, 'So be it.'
That's why you find yourself here in the first place; he didn't assume anything or expect things would happen just because you'd agreed to a date.
You chuckle slightly, the difference from what you're used to stark. The suddenness of it makes Robby arch his brows in a silent question.
You cock your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "I had a whole speech prepared to escape the inevitable home-invite after."
He chuckles when you catch him up to speed on your thoughts. "Are guys that confident?"
"Even when they shouldn't be."
Robby hums lowly at that and waits a few beats, then, "But I didn't get it."
It was the soundless but very incredulous-tinged mental scoff the proposal usually elicits while you gave a polite smile and declined. Sorry, tired and have work tomorrow. Didn't matter if you didn't.
"Well, your confidence-" You don't know if that was the word to use. Robby had been blushing when he'd asked you to stay the night. But neither could you call him shy. No, the confidence was there, but it was the sort you felt, a reassuring kind, rather than one only seen when bragged about. "-it's… sexy."
"Yeah?" Robby tilts his head, brows just slightly raised. Your eyes flutter down, watching your thumbs brush the small strip of denim your index fingers are hooked through.
You intend to answer. But you're unable to sound out the words you planned, any traces of vowels and consonants dying on your tongue once you glance up at him through your lashes, finding him gazing at you intently. A little, agreeing hum is all you manage to give him instead.
Robby swallows hard, feeling the stirring low in his gut.
It's not the soft, fluttering kind that made him kiss you before. It's a progression, a corruption, of the worry his invite had stemmed from. Then hesitant and spurred from concern, now beating steadier, hungrier after what you revealed.
"Why did I get the pass?"
"I- you- it's just- ." Something akin to a warm flush rushes through your chest, making you stutter to a stop as you speak.
All the things you liked about Robby were for your friends to know as you raved about this date tomorrow. Not things you would say to his face during it.
And how would you even describe that it's just him? His slight awkwardness at first. The way he almost haunched his shoulders to appear smaller when you first stepped up to greet him, which you found awfully cute. Only to watch a quick-witted playfulness and calm kind of self-assurance appear during the dinner as he sat tall and much more relaxed in his chair.
It just fit him and was unbelievably attractive to you.
"Come on," Robby urges playfully. There's a glint in his brown eyes as if he knows you won't reveal it but enjoys tormenting you about it anyway.
"Are you trying to farm compliments?" You deflect.
One side of his lips rises higher. "Only if they come from you."
"God didn't know you were such a sap."
He sucks his lips against his teeth to stop his smile, but the telltale lines appear beside his eyes. "It's only been one date. You haven't seen all of me."
You roll your eyes, looking sideways to escape from his gaze once you find him watching you in entertainment. But you only succeed in getting a firsthand seat to follow his hand as it settles on the railing behind your back. You felt the other doing the same, the air on your left side stirring. He wasn't touching you but caged you in all the same, the realisation making your heartbeat pick up.
With your breath caught between your breastbone and the hollow of your throat, you face forward again. Apparently, Robby has never looked away from you.
His brown eyes are intoxicating this close, making it hard to swallow around whatever lump has grown in your throat, and your words come out thicker than you intend.
"Has anyone said you got a staring problem?"
Robby arches his brows in a quick up-and-down movement, pursing his lips. "Something tells me you don't mind."
"And that you're insufferable?"
He rocks his head back and forth, looking away but at nothing in particular as if he considers it, eventually responding when his eyes meet yours again.
"Not to my face."
"I can do them a favour." Robby chuckles, head staying cocked, nearly resting on his shoulder.
"Can you?" He questions, lines on his forehead accentuated as he sends you a sceptical look. "I can't be that insufferable if you're still here."
You humph, raising your chin defiantly. "I can still leave."
It's such a fat fucking lie, one you almost laugh at yourself. You don't want this night to end. If you did, you would already be on your way. And with the look Robby pins you with, how he scoffs as if to call bullshit, he knows it as well.
"Ohoh, I know you won't."
"You're sure of yourself."
"You learn to spot fakers when they visit your department close to every day." He shrugs.
Your brows surge upwards. "Your department?"
"Chief attending," he drops the title as if it's a minor detail he'd forgotten to mention and didn't mind omitting.
You hum at the newly learned fact. It explains his workload and the responsibility he hinted at was attached to him around the clock.
Without knowing where you're going with it —aside from the sudden need to release some of the weight from his shoulders, even if you only can work with distraction from how briefly you've known him— your hands slowly trail up his torso.
Robby inhales sharply, chest expanding rapidly beneath your palms as his nostrils flare. His eyes snap down to your hands and then up to your face.
"Well, Mr Chief Attending." One of your hands stops at his chest while the other circles his neck. You tug him towards you, feel him exhale only to sharply breathe in the air close to your lips. "You're right. I'm more than comfortable being here," you mumble, this time being the one to initiate a kiss.
Robby reciprocates instantly, pressing his mouth against yours, hands finding your hips.
You go one step further than he'd done previously when you lick into his mouth, gliding your tongue over his with a tilt of your head and slow flex of the muscle.
A near-buzzing shiver spreads from the back of your head, down your neck, arms and further along your spine when he meets your tongue with his own.
It's only by luck you manage to stop your moan. It had been so long since you went on a date with someone, let alone made out with anyone. That it was Robby who now broke both of those too-long spells was a dizzying thought. It was not made easier by the low sound you definitely caught vibrating in his throat.
Suddenly, he breaks the kiss, pinning his forehead to yours as his eyes remain shut, a drawn-out groan now audible in the elevator's small space.
"Kiss me like that, and you'll send me mixed signals about tonight." His fingers dig into your hips in a warning.
You know what he means, still, you coily ask, "And what signal are those?"
He leans away, not far since your hand still cups the back of his head. He pins you with a heated look.
"That we're about to do something neither of us usually does."
It's silent after he says it, at least in the elevator. But in your ears, your pulse is pounding.
Somewhere, not even deep down, you already knew it could happen. Not in the general way dates could lead to something more, something shared in the dim light after a home invite. But from what had flittered through your head, body, when Robby had kissed you the first time.
A need was what it had been, a need for this night not to end. The feeling only grew the longer you spent with him, from something excited and pleased into something low and thrumming in your core rather than chest.
And fuck, you really didn't mind if this night ended in the polar opposite to one of innocent bed-sharing, now when you considered it. Not at fucking all with how Robby's brown eyes met yours or how his chest wasn't far from considered heaving.
"You make it feel way too right." If Robby hadn't stood so close, he probably wouldn't have caught your words. They were murmured more against his lip than said into the open air.
His eyes jump back and forth before settling into steady eye-contact. "Is that a yes?"
"Yes, Robby, it is." He surges toward you, lips and tongue moving in tandem with yours, dictating the kiss this time around.
It literally and figuratively takes your breath away. Your hand on Robby's chest fists the material of his jumper, and the one on his neck digs into the skin just below his hairline.
You can't stop the pitched sound from forming in the back of your throat. And judging from his reaction, Robby eats it right up. Leaning more, not all, of his weight against you as he grunts into your mouth.
It's the ping of the elevator doors that breaks you apart.
Robby doesn't linger, yet the look he sends as he steps away is heated. His eyes skate to your mouth, returning with a smirk sowly curling his mouth when he sees your lips stay parted.
You fluster, sending him a glare. "Shut up."
"I didn't say anything." He's so full of it. And of it, you mean smugness. It's eating at his words as he leads you out of the elevator.
"Fuck you," you mutter.
Apparently, it isn't low enough for him to miss.
It's easy for Robby to settle his hand where your neck meets your spine as he walks beside you. His hand, hot, heavy and large, reaches around your nape in a way that reminds you of a kitten being scruffed. But his fingers don't dig even if they brush either side of your throat.
If your heart isn't already in your throat, it jumps there when Robby bends until his mouth brushes close to your temple, words dripping down your skin and into your ear, "I'm planning to."
And he says it without losing his pace, not missing a step. Meanwhile, your inhale is sharp as your face jerks to watch him, met by his very pleased expression.
"You're enjoying this way too much."
"Oh no," he elongates the o's as he cocks his head. He proceeds his following words with a minimal, single shrug of his shoulders, "You're just making it too easy."
The look in his eyes is way too entertained, brown eyes twinkling in amusement as his crow's feet grow. It's enough for you to knock his hand off your neck, but it only works in his favour as he grabs his keychain again, stopping by a door you presume is his with a deep chuckle.
And well, Robby is right. You make it easy for him because he makes it easy for you.
You forgo any filling conversation as he loops his arms around you once the door is locked behind you once more. It's not yet teenage desperation. You share a moment where you gaze at each other, your small smile mirrored back at you from behind his beard.
But once you meet in the middle, you lose yourself in him, how it feels so right, good to kiss him. The tingles never subside, not with how his lips move in sync with yours, the heavy press of his hand at the back of your head, his warm tongue caressing your own.
"Do you want this? To continue?" Robby asks as he parts with a soft groan, head bent, observing you through his brows.
"God, yes," you breathe.
"Good, because I also want to." That he admits it after you answered only makes you realise how good of a man Robby is, not wanting to pursue you in any direction. "Shoes off, I'm not doing it here, too old for that shit."
Your chuckle slips through the lip caught between your teeth. The way he says it, not meant like anything else than a comment —one that tickles you— but still sounding so commanding does more to you than he ever could guess.
You could see the chief attending thing, now.
As he toes off his shoes, he offers you a hand to help you balance while you slip off your heels. You don't care that only one remains standing while the other clatters sideways when Robby pulls you forward, attention zeroed in on him.
He leads you straight through the large, open space that serves as his living room and kitchen. The two areas are separated by the feet between the back of his couch and the kitchen island. More than that, you don't manage to gather about his home as he drags you along.
As he arrives at the door he led you to, Robby is quick to turn around and tug you against him once he steps across the threshold. You let yourself be brought closer to him.
Robby settles his large palm on your cheek, angling your face to his liking before dipping down into a deep kiss. It's the kind that has your heart thrumming wildly and thoughts dispersed in all directions until they rush back, focusing on him.
A heated flush spreads through your body. You feel like you are burning up from the feel of his beard chafing against your chin, how his hand isn't shy to travel down your body and settle on your lower back, and how he pulls your hips flush against his pelvis.
"Jesus, Robby," you break away from him, forehead instantly dropping against his chest as you catch your breath.
You can't meet his gaze as your chest heaves for air, the tension in your body amounting dangerously fast as there's definitely a bulge pushed into your stomach.
"Too much?" Although the hand previously cupping your face has already moved to your neck, he shifts the one on your back, sliding it until his whole arm encircles your waist.
You're completely pressed against him now, chest to thighs, realising he's not afraid to keep you close even if you feel him straining against his jeans.
"Too much, not enough," the words rush from you as you look at him again. His chin had dropped considerably to look at you from how close you two were.
There's a tug in his lips, a delighted kind of satisfaction in his eyes as he steps backwards, leading you deeper into the room. You have no option but to follow along his shuffling steps.
Moving further inwards, Robby slowly reveals more of the bedroom his frame previously covered. As he does, your eyes can't help but track sideways, landing on the corner that's disturbing the otherwise tidy space. A giggle slips out before you can quell it.
Upon the sound, Robby's brows furrow, following your line of sight.
He groans when he looks over his shoulder. The scattered piles of clothes in the corner of the room are right where he —forgot— he left them. Some hanging over the loveseat, others crumpled on the floor.
"Sorry 'bout the mess. It doesn't usually look like that."
You find yourself smiling, the incipient haze from desire settling into something more manageable and not gnawing at every fibre of your being.
"Didn't think you would get any visitors?"
"Would lie if I said no." He chuckles sheepishly, eyes moving back to you
"You should see my place," you laugh along with him. "It looked like a hurricane ran through it. I couldn't find anything to wear."
"I'm inclined to disagree", he hums, not breaking eye contact as his fingers creep beneath your cardigan. Only once he does, Robby finds there's no shirt, only skin.
His smile falls, his eyes flickering down and up as his lips remain parted once he realises you have nothing beneath the top. One you apparently considered enough of a shirt to wear on its own.
"But I reckon I'll like what's underneath even more."
"Stop flirting with me." You breathe, inhaling deeply at the sensation of his rough palm finding its way beneath your clothes, now stroking your spine right above your jeans.
"Deserve to be flirted with-" his eyes drop to follow your body, and you can nearly see how he imagines what's beneath,"-when looking this good."
You whine, quelling it by gripping Robby's chin, pulling his face to yours, hastily pressing your mouth to his. Even though he reciprocates the kiss with a surprised grunt, it's brief before he dips his head to your ear.
"Don't sidetrack me," he mutters hotly, his voice rough, deeper than before.
If your skin wasn't already ridden with goosebumps, the shiver zipping down your pine at the gravel coating his vocal cords definitely would've prickled your skin.
Your fingers curl into his jumper once Robby's soft lips descend down your throat, his beard scratching along your skin. An unsteady sound swishes past your lips as your head lolls backwards.
You're positive he feels your pulse hammer beneath your skin as he reaches the hollow of your throat. And if he doesn't, he must feel how it halts altogether when he licks into the divot between your clavicles, tongue scooping the thin chain into his mouth to suck gently at, having it tug slightly into your neck.
"Fuck," you barely know where your hands scramble for purchase, but you dig your fingers into some parts of Robby.
You can't understand how he's winding you up this much without a single piece of clothing stripped from your body, with so little skin to access. But he does, and he does it well.
"Robby, fuck, I-I neeed-."
"Need me to touch you properly?" He chuckles against your throat, dropping the chain against your skin again, now spit-slicked.
You squirm, a frustrated noise preceding your equally frustrated 'yes'. You feel his mile grow from the way his beard tickles in a new way and a little higher up.
"Want me to start with this?" Robby's words wash over your skin as his hands settle on your stomach, toying with the front of your cardigan.
Your head drops forward, unable to see how he tugs at the hem of it even though you feel it.
His soft, brown hair brushes your cheek as your face rests against his. Your eyes are locked on his haunched shoulder, not focusing at first. But once it does, you realise you're the one who's kept him against your throat by the hand on his neck.
"Y-yeah, but don't rip it. I like this one," your voice is shaky as you ease your grip, letting your hand fall to his shoulder.
Robby leans away as he feels the pressure on the back of his head disappear, enough so his eyes can meet yours.
"Never intended to," he inhales deeply as his fingers fiddle with the lowest button, popping it open. "But now, when you've said it, I'm expecting I can rip something off you next time."
"Wouldn't mind." He groans, leaning in to catch your lips momentarily. You hum happily into the kiss, Robby mirroring the pleased sound but a few octaves deeper.
When the press slows until your lips simply brush, his forehead comes to rest against yours, head tilting as he gazes down your body. Meanwhile, you find yourself watching him.
It's torture, pure and debauched torture.
Robby is teasingly slow to unbutton your shirt. You almost wish he wouldn't have listened and ripped it off your body. Then you wouldn't have to squirm beneath his eyes reverently following the fabric part, revealing more of your skin for each buttoned opened.
And he seems to like it, taking his goddamn time, stretching out the process, letting his little fingers brush beneath the fabric. Never more than teasing you with his touch.
By the time he finally undoes the last button, your heart is hammering wildly in your chest.
The fabric hangs loosely, revealing a strip of skin down your middle. Robby slides his index beneath the fabric covering your shoulders, only to push it off completely.
When the piece of clothing drops behind you, he leans his upper body backwards.
"You wore this?" He rumbles, chest rising and falling notably, eyes moving from your bra to lock with your eyes.
"Makes me feel pretty." It does. The lace is remarkably comfortable to make your boobs look as good as they do in it.
"Makes you look fucking beautiful." The words wash across your skin as Robby bends down to kiss the area above your breasts, the view he hasn't stopped staring at.
Your eyes flutter when his big hands settle on either side of your bare upper body. Splayed wide across your ribs, his fingers press into the soft divots between them.
His lips move feather light first, brushing more than kissing. Then, he grows more intent. The occasional feel of his tongue now laps over the swell of your breast, the softness of them revealed above the line of fabric. Robby groans as he does, and soon, he's pressing open-mouthed kisses firmly enough that he steps into you, forcing you backwards.
Not until you feel a mattress hit the back of your knees and thighs, forcing you to sit down, do you realise he knowingly led you to the bed.
You sit down with a bounce, catching yourself with your hands behind your back. Robby has stopped before you, towering even if you sat upright. Although his head is bowed to accommodate, his gaze is cast lower than your face.
"Eyes are up here." A smile pulls at your lips when you realise what's got Robby's attention.
His brown gaze travels upwards, a wry smile preceding his excuse, "You would do the same with a similar view."
"So give me something to ogle at." You poke your foot against his calf, truly enjoying the pink spreading across his cheeks. But he doesn't argue, simply grabs the back of his jumper, pulling off both layers in one motion.
As he strips, Robby finds himself waiting for your reaction, gauging in what way you look at him. He does it with glances at you between throwing his shirts aside and working his jeans off his legs.
He's not expecting anything in particular, but he knows he isn't in his prime. Fifteen years ago, maybe. More visibly toned muscle, sharper lines of definition. All of the accompanying strength remains, if it hasn't actually increased over decades of labour. However, that doesn't take away the fact it's hidden behind aged softness.
But he hears you whisper 'Oh, fuck' as your eyes flicker over him. Only to be followed by his name as you desperately take hold of his hand to urge him closer, a need so evident in your eyes that it even creases your brows.
"Christ," he groans against your lips, catching himself with one knee on the bed, hands beside you, stopping himself from falling onto you as you drag him down.
"Should I take that as you like what you saw?" He gets out between the press of your mouth against his.
You hear how he tries to beat down his self-satisfaction, but it feels like you don't know where to go. The desire to have him close and stare at him simultaneously tears you in different directions. But the latter wins this time, your head falling against the mattress so you can stare at him.
His body, god, you could snap your teeth, sink them into him with how feral it made you. His arms, the bulge of his bicep flexing beside your head and the tattoos you spotted. The dark hair speckled across his chest, the Magen David you saw for the first time hung from his neck and glittered on its golden chain.
And when your eyes glide from his sculpted upper body to his softer middle and lower stomach, the dark, happy trail running from his stomach only to disappear beneath his black trunks, you writhe.
"Robby," you whine his name, eyes flittering up to him only to fall down his body again. "You-"
"Don't need to hear it," he cuts you off with a chuckle. One side of his mouth is quirked a little higher, but not without the blush still cresting over his cheeks. "Your turn. You're way too dressed."
He's got you watching him in silence as he pushes himself upright again.
With your eyes gliding over his flexing arms as he unbuttons and starts rucking down your jeans —with your assisting wiggles and kicking— Robby barely leaves you any space to be irritated at the ordeal.
You don't care where the heavy material even thumps to the ground before you're sitting up, this time meeting Robby in the middle as he bends down.
Your mouth moves eagerly against his, your arm reaching around his neck as you lay down again, simultaneously trying to scoot up the bed to make room for him. What you don't anticipate is him looping one arm around your waist and heaving you upwards.
You slide up the mattress with an excited gasp, parting from his lips as your wide eyes meet his as he climbs over you.
It's been more than a while since Robby did this. The memory of someone else's warmth seeping into his body faint, burrowed and forgotten due to time. But if it doesn't feel good to hold you close, feel you crane your neck to give him access to the spot beneath your ear so willingly.
He feels a moan scratch his throat at the way your nails bite into his muscles, back arching, gasp getting stuck in your throat as he finally reaches and closes his lips around your still-clothed nipple.
It's perked behind the flimsy lace, and he sucks it through what barely can be called a cover. Yet he only spends so much time teasing you, the hand splayed beneath you slipping upwards, easily reaching the clasp between your shoulder-blades.
You shoot him a look as he opens the clasp and helps peel the material from your arms. Brows arched and your mouth open yet curled upward at the edges.
"You learn a thing or two", his mumble fans between the valley of your breasts as he switches from one to the other nipple.
Without the barrier of your bra —which you don't know where Robby tossed it— the swipe of his tongue is wetter, hotter. When he closes his lips around the peaked bud and sucks, you moan, the sound soft and breathy.
You arch closer to him, eyes falling shut. With how he's positioned between your thighs, you can't clench them to ease the throbbing there. But your frustrated whine pivots sharply to a harsh breath when you grind against the upper part of his crotch, sensing the outline of his hard-on.
You hold your breath as you shimmy your hips, reaching just a bit lower. When you roll your hips this time, Robby's bulge presses firmly into you.
A moan punches out of you, letting free all of the air trapped there moments prior. When you continue to roll your hips, Robby breaks away from teasing your nipple between his teeth, pressing his face between your breasts.
"Fuck." Oh, the way he cursed, low and on the verge of a growl into your skin, dripped straight down between your legs, making you clench around nothing, "If you keep doing that-"
"What? I'll regret it? " His bearded chin scraped across your skin as he perched it on your chest, staring up at you. "Don't think so."
He moves upwards until his head hangs between his shoulders, necklace dangling in the air, face hovering above yours.
"You got a mouth on ya."
"And you-," you hook a finger in his golden chain, gently tugging it so he sinks closer, never not rolling your hips upwards, not when he now presses himself against you, egging you on. "-got something I want inside me."
A flurry of emotion passes through his eyes and his mouth drops open on a restrained pant. "Oh, be careful what you ask for."
"Do you need me to beg?"
His head tilts slowly, "I wouldn't mind."
Your heartbeat picks up a few notches at the drawl in his voice, forcing another shiver of anticipation through your body.
You bend your knees as high as they go with Robby between them, feet brushing against his underwear when you cross your ankles behind his back. When you tug him against you by digging your heels into his spine, you feel his cock twitch against you. The feeling is muted through the fabric still separating you but enough to embolden you to speak steadily.
"Please, I need you," you release his chain, cradling his face as you meet his gaze through your lashes, layering it on extra thick when you speak again. "Please, Michael."
He snaps. His mouth crashes against yours, making you swallow his groan.
You feel him shuffle, knock his knuckles against your thigh when wedging a hand between your bodies to pull at his underwear. Letting your legs fall and splay sideways, you try to concentrate on reciprocating the hungry tangling of your tongues while Robby yanks his boxers down, only parting from your lips when he needs to reach lower to kick them off.
When a hot, heavy weight taps and stays resting against your stomach, you look down. Eyes travelling down your body —all while Robby settles back to evenly distribute his weight on both his forearms— your mouth drops open.
"Of course."
"What?" You find his head tilted when your eyes return to his face.
"You're big." Big was an understatement to all the synonyms you could use. Thick, girthy, heavy as it hung between his legs, tip flushed, and the base covered with thick, but not unkept, dark hair. "And, of course, you are after I haven't slept with anyone in ages.
"Said to be careful what you wished for," he has the nerve to chuckle, letting himself fall against you, at least his lower body, trapping his cock snuggly between your and his stomach. "But I'll prep you good."
"Jesus fucking Christ, Robby." Your groan, wringing the sheets beneath you in a knuckled grip.
Even if the smugness faded to give way to something softer as he'd said it, that it came from him in that voice made your stomach flip.
Your breathing was already unsteady, but it grew worse when he began kissing down your body. Only to shudder to a stop when Robby's beard scrapes against your hip as he parts your legs wide to fit his shoulder when he lays down on his stomach.
The muscles in your thighs tremble as he uses his chin to tease the inside of your legs with his beard. Without realising it, your eyes had shut somewhere along the way of Robby working his way to the fabric of your underwear. Yet, they open once you feel him stop, his breath fanning against your core as he hovers.
Your eyes open, shifting down, lips parting open upon the sight of Robby between your legs.
His brown eyes are dark, with a raw, heady kind of steadiness as he keeps your gaze. And he continues holding it until you squirm, trying and failing not to crumble under his attention.
You catch his slight smirk when his gaze finally drops, and he peels the fabric of your thong sideways, the thin strip of material hooked on his finger.
"Fuck so pretty," his deep groan fills the air. Seconds later, his broad tongue laps up the seam of your pussy.
Your lips part, moan spilling into the air as your hips chase after the sensation leaving a searing trail up to your clit. When Robby's lips find your bundle of nerves, sucking, only to flick it with the tip of his tongue, he has to wrap his arms around your thighs and lock his hands over your stomach to stop your bucking.
When Robby dips lower, inserting his tongue into your drenched hole, he moans. Your taste fills his mouth, nearly making his eyes roll into the back of his head.
You feel him moan into you as he eats you out. It's enough to make you spiral and want more. Trying to move your hips to guide him closer, you cry out in frustration at the broad palms pressing into your abdomen, restricting all movement.
You don't know if Robby is using all of his strength, but from the lack of tension in his shoulders, you would guess that he isn't. Your head swirls with the realisation that he can keep you pinned with a fragment of his strength.
A strangled whine bubbles in your throat as Robby he drags his tongue back from your entrance and through your slit, circling it over your clit lazily. And then something shifts, like he's done playing nice when you've gotten used to his touch. The edge of finesse is overruled by slurping sounds as he buries his face deeper, dragging his beard without care that it collects your wetness.
Your thighs snap against his head and your hand shoots to his hair to tug on it. He grunts at the sting, making your stomach clench.
While you ease your grip when his brown eyes meet yours, your head snaps backwards when he uncurls one arm, wedging it between his face and your thigh and pins it with his elbow at the perfect angle to reach your clit.
His thumb rolls the bundle of nerves as his tongue wriggles into your hole, and you keen, mindful enough to wring the life of the already lifeless duvets rather than Robby's hair this time around.
You feel him smile before he mumbles, "Need something else?"
With your mouth agape, eyes closed tightly shut, still angled towards the roof, you nod.
"Need words, sweetheart," he mutters between laps.
You whine at the teasing lilt in his voice, accidentally tightening the grip on his hair before you catch yourself. "Yeah…"
"What do you need?"
"I-I…" your stuttering words halt in a sudden gasp when he increases the speed at which he toys with your clit just as you're about to speak. "What's that?" But he doesn't let up immediately. He enjoys making you moan, being unable to answer his question as long as he rolls your bundle of nerves.
When he eventually lets the digit rest against the bundle beneath his thumb, feeling it jump slightly as you clench around nothing from the previous pleasure, you take a deep breath like you haven't been able to until now. Once you do, the words tumble from you, "I need your fingers, something to fill me!"
He hums low and in the back of his throat. "Promised to stretch you good, didn't I?"
Your nod turns into a gasp when he dips a thick finger into you, which pivots into a moan when he slips another finger in with the first after pumping it a few times.
Robby curls his digits, watching your face contort before it relaxes. Soft breaths or moans spill from your lips depending on how he strokes them and what spot he hits inside you. They all make his cock throb, and he can't help but rock his hips into the bed, groaning at the pleasure.
"Fuck, sweetheart, the sounds you make." He sees you shudder, and a gratifying pleasure rises, watching you writhe in pleasure, knowing you're doing it because of him.
Maintaining his weight on his knees, Robby pushes up to balance above you. Still rhythmically pumping his fingers, he uses his other hand to curl beneath your neck, cupping it to tilt your head to face him.
Your eyes open, surprise and pleasure intertwined in your gaze.
"There she is." The skin beside his eyes crinkles. "Can you keep those pretty eyes on me? I want to see how good you feel."
You blink, nod, "Y-yeah."
One side of his lip curls a little higher, and then he starts jerking his whole hand up and down. You squeal, hands flying to hold onto him from the onslaught of pleasure.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Your answer is a moan as you stare at his profile, his eyes cast down at your body. "Yeah, it does. Just look at you, taking them so good for me", Robby mutters, almost as if he doesn't realise he is saying it.
But you do, the lightning down your spine revealing you certainly do.
His eyes flicker back and forth, from watching himself finger you to meeting your eyes. You can't describe the look in them, but it makes your jaw go slack and your mouth hang open, moans ripping themselves from your lungs.
Robby groans at the way you clench around him, the image of you doing it around him making his cock twitch, greedy to finally slide into you.
"That's it, just a little more," he heaves, eyes zeroed in on the glistening slick coating his wrist. "Doing so good for me, sweetheart."
Your breath hitch, limbs locking up as your fingers twitch, nails dig into his bicep.
There's a tight vibration in your chest as you register his words. The weight of them, the desire curled around them. They made you melt and tense at the same time.
A flush burns your whole body, alight and addictive while simultaneously making you fidgety. It's too much, it's-
"Stop, please stop-"
Robby halts the movement of his fingers, mind spiralling in milliseconds towards the worst possible scenario as his eyes snap up to you again.
"You can't say shit like that," you continue, eyes open but not really meeting his gaze, flickering across his face, then sideways, only to repeat the pattern.
Robby's breath rushes from his lungs, calming down when he realises he hadn't pushed too far or that you'd changed your mind. "No?"
You're about to answer, but he accidentally bumps your clit as he slides from within you to settle on your thigh. Your mouth snaps shut, instead giving him a sharp nod.
"Why?"
"Because," you glance up at him, trying to send him a 'this conversation is over' kind of look, but it fails hilariously with the visible desire softening the glare.
He jerks his head sideways, not beating down the quirk on his lips. "Not working, sweetheart. You look just as pretty with a pout on your face."
You squirm enough that Robby needs to move his hand to your hip when your thighs shut. While your gaze falls on nothing in particular, he watches you in intrigue. And it dawns on him.
"You like the praise."
Your eyes widen and snap to meet his, only to be forcefully shut as you groan.
A disbelieving but much more pleased huff escapes Robby upon your reaction. And even if he knows there is nothing to test —your fidgeting and nervous eye-contact was enough— he still decides to tease you.
"You like it. I know you do," Robby hums, eyes flittering down to watch his hand gently slide back between your legs, cupping your mound.
You whine as one of his long fingers slips between your outer lips, collecting your slick before he slides his finger into you again. Once he curls it, stroking that spongy spot on the roof of your walls, your hips shift.
"Just look at you, writhing so prettily when I praise you for taking my fingers so good," he muses, attention returning to your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut, lips pressed tight together as if to force yourself to be silent.
Robby has to fight a chuckle as he bends down, head dipped low enough to brush your ear and disturb your hair with his heavy breaths.
"Come one, sweetheart, tell me how good it feels." He smirks as you tighten and flutter around him. "Tell me you're growing desperate for me to fill you up with my cock and call you a good girl for taking me so-."
You suddenly whip your head towards him, pressing your mouth against his in a haphazard kiss to shut him up, swallowing his laugh in the process.
Before Robby manages to more than reciprocate the kiss, you flip him over while he's distracted, knee pushed against his hip as you set him off balance.
His fingers slip from inside you, the kiss breaking as you settle on his lap.
Your breathing is laboured, pleasure still making your nerves buzz as you stare down at him. He watches you smugly, seemingly not taken aback that you managed to reverse your position.
"You're going to exploit this too much." You tell him, palm pressed pointedly into his chest, brows furrowed.
His eyes twinkle as he stares up at you. His hands naturally seek out your thighs, one hand slick with your wetness. "You've only known me for a few hours."
"And yet I know you will."
"Yeah, you're right," he breathes, smile unfolding entirely.
You marvel at the boyish but awfully charming smile of his. But only for a second, utilising having your sopping wet pussy sitting on his aching cock to wipe the too-entertained look off his face.
When you roll your hips, the effect is immediate. His brows furrow, eyes closing, a moan filling the air, thick and raspy.
It's intoxicating watching a man like Robby give in to pleasure. Feel him do as his fingers dig into your hips, urging you to press firmer against him with each slide of your pussy.
He must feel your stare as his eyes open, heavy-lidded and pleasure-filled gaze meeting yours.
"Using it against me," his words are cut, followed by a deep moan.
"Just letting you feel how wet you made me," your voice is nearly a purr, never letting up on swivelling your hips.
"Talks dirty but can't take praise," he chuckles breathily, but the sound falters into a groan.
"Bet if I started praising you, you would react-"
"Come here," he cuts you off, one hand yanking at your wrist, tugging your chest flush against his.
He kisses you with an open mouth, tongue pushing against yours as his teeth graze your bottom lip. As he unwraps his hand from your wrist, you wriggle both your hands from between you, planting them on either side of his face.
You don't care about finishing your sentence when you part from Robby, your lips having the sole purpose of mapping the skin of his throat.
Leaving lingering kisses along the same path, your hands wander, and you soon reach the top of his chest. But you don't stop once wiry hair presses against your lips, and Robby seems to notice as his hand suddenly grips your upper arm, preventing you from shuffling further down than you already had managed.
"Oh, sweetheart, you don't want to do that."
Your eyes flicker to meet Robby's, which are already set on you. "You don't even know what I was going to do."
He chuckles admonishingly, the look he sends you silently saying he's been in the game long enough to know exactlywhat you wanted to do.
"I won't last long," he warns, still holding onto your arm. "Even shorter if you blow me."
"Please, just a taste." The sound he releases stems from deep in his lungs.
"Fine," he grits out, releasing you. "But I'm not cumming like this."
Your lower lip catches between your teeth as you scoot down with a nod.
When your breath fans across his length, it twitches before your eyes. Your gaze flickers to Robby as it does, your smile breaking from the confines you try to keep it under.
As one of your hands closes around his shaft, you watch how his eyes flutter shut, a groan following as you lean in and swirl your tongue around the tip.
There's a stretch in your jaw when you open your mouth wide to close your lips around him. You can taste yourself, but behind it, it's Robby's unique muskiness, tangy and salty but in no way off-putting. You don't even realise you're humming until his hand tangles in your hair and gives a tug once.
Even if he most likely intended it as a warning, it only spurs you to move.
Your eyes close as you slip down his cock, taking him shy of your gag reflex before retreating. His hand twitches as you bob your head, but he doesn't demand anything. By the sounds of it, he simply does it to anchor himself.
You lose yourself in swallowing him down, enjoying the girth that you know will make your jaw ache sooner rather than later. But it's worth it. His deep and rumbling moans do nothing but spur you on and make you mindlessly swirl your tongue and suckle at his tip.
"No- no teasing," he chokes out, broken on a grunt and an aborted thrust after you flicked your tongue against the underside of his cockhead.
You let go of him to speak, but don't stop jerking your hand at his base. With your mouth out of the way, he gives in, rolling his hips into your spit-slicked fist, groans following his motion.
"I'm not." You grin up at him only to lean down to push your tongue pointedly at the underside of his tip, the very same sensitive area that makes him inhale through his teeth, pleasure edging on too much.
"Fucking- no goddamn teasing if you want this to end early."
"Pent up-", you kiss his cock between your words, "-much?"
Robby's eyes are already dark, but suddenly, it feels like you stare more into black than brown. His gaze is heavy to hold, clouded with lust.
You're almost vibrating while running your tongue against the back of your teeth, collecting a pool of saliva in your mouth.
With your eyes locked with Robby's brown ones, you spit onto his tip, keeping his cock upright with solely a thumb to not prevent the glob of saliva from trickling down his length.
You bend down to catch it with your tongue once it reaches his base, dragging your tongue flat to smear it over him. You make sure he's still watching you when you slap his cock against your tongue a few times, smiling as you do.
He twitches violently and maybe that should've been enough forewarning that the hand in your hair would tighten and pull you away.
"That's enough from you," Robby drags you off before he feels the curl of his toes, the release of the pleasurable tug in his abdomen. He knew your mouth could get him there. Especially if you pull stunts like that.
You don't speak as you let him guide you into his lap, but your shit-eating grin gives away everything you don't say.
As you straddle him again, he looks sideways as he stretches one arm towards the bedside table. He manages to open it and dip his hand inside, only to pull out an easily recognisable foil. Your lips manage to purse before you roll them inwards.
"Don't pout," Robby's comment draws your attention back to him again. He's looking up at you with stern eyes, without a doubt having caught your reaction. "Don't tempt me."
"Always feel better without." His hand, which had found your thigh, gives a warning squeeze.
"Don't fucking make me a bad doctor by listening to you," he grinds out, pointing at you with the condom pinched between his index and middle finger. "And you should be careful."
You can't help but chuckle at the medical advice given despite the setting.
"Don't worry, Dr Robby, I'm on birth control, and I always check with my partners." You card your fingers through his chest, bending until you go from steadying yourself with your hands to settling on your underarms. "Besides, I always test myself after either way."
"Aren't you a good girl?" You reactively swat his chest, body set ablaze, heat licking along your entire backside.
"I know you would do this," you accuse.
Robby smirks at you. "Not sorry in the slightest."
"Fuck you," you murmur, but there's no venom behind it, so he simply hums a 'mhm' and raises his chin to swipe you into a kiss.
The exchange is slow, leaning more towards lazy, with Robby exhaling heavily through his nose as you melt against his mouth. Regardless, it leaves you breathless, enough that a shaky inhale proceeds your question once you lean away.
"So-" You lick your lips. Robby's eyes flitter to the move as if he wants to pull you close again, before his gaze returns. "-know if you're clean?"
He should be, Robby hasn't slept with anyone in a long time. But he hasn't had a test, don't know for sure and fuck if he wishes he knew.
"Don't know," he groans, lamenting his own tardiness.
"Don't you practically work where they're taken?" You're mouth jerks as you now twirl his chain lazily around your finger before uncurling it.
"Not like I take my lunch break to do STI checks," he scoffs. Over his fucking dead and buried body that he would take one at PTMC anyway.
Your smile only grows as you curl your finger —making his head raise as the chain digs into his neck— and press a kiss to his lips. "Next time, then?"
"Yeah, next time," he mumbles, following you as you sit up straight, his necklace resting against his chest once more.
You waste no time in shuffling down his body. As you do, you spot the ripped open foil, only to realise Robby has already managed to roll the condom over himself.
With the low current running through your body, anticipation, need, you don't hesitate to grind against him once you settle atop him.
There's a tinge of disappointment at feeling the rubber keep that silky warmth at bay, but feeling him rock solid and twitching makes your mouth water all the same.
Once gliding over him easily, you rise slightly onto your knees, grabbing hold of his cock to line him up.
He's prepped you well —just like he promised— his tip gliding in easily once you lower yourself slightly, one hand anchoring you on his chest to not drop too fast.
"Yeah, fuck, that's it, sweetheart," he rumbles as you slowly sink down on him, rolling your hips to go up and progressively lower.
You shut your eyes, exhaling raggedly at the pleasurable warmth of his words and his cock spreading you open.
About two-quarters down, you stop.
No longer required to keep him aligned with your entrance, your other hand falls to his chest to steady yourself as you simply breathe, accustoming to his girth.
Robby must see that you slowed. Heck, he must have felt how tightly you clenched him as you needed a moment to collect yourself. But he doesn't push you to continue when his fingers dig into your hip, simply kneading the flesh.
What you don't know is there's a loop of 'think of kittens and puppies' rolling around in his head, but it's more words than pictures as he can't wipe away what he sees, you hovering, mouth agape and another two inches to go. It's enough to bust. And with how tight and wet you are, hugging him like a dream, fuck...
"I know, it's a lot to take", his voice thick, raspier than before, eyes seeking yours from beneath. Once you hold his gaze steadily, he continues, "But you're doing so good for me."
A shiver runs down your spine, and you clench around him again, but once you relax, you find yourself sinking deeper.
Experimentally, you roll your hips, rising slightly on your knees, before pushing down again. This time around, you slide far enough that the hair on his pelvis tickles against your mound. Robby moans as you do, rendered speechless. The sound is intoxicating enough that you chase it again, moving your hips to slide him out of you only to settle down with the added force of your body weight.
"Oh-"
"That's it-shit" The groan, deep and vibrating from the chest beneath your hand, makes you clench as you finally manage to fully settle into Robby's lap.
You watch with lidded eyes how he clenches his jaw, hissing an additional fuck through his teeth as his head falls backwards on the pillow.
Once you start moving up and down, your and Robby's moans sound at the same time.
The dark happy trail leading down his abdomen, underneath you, to connect with the hair at the base of his cock acts exactly as the stimulation you need when starting at a slow and steady rock.
When you feel comfortable enough, you lift onto your knees, arching your back, dropping your weight onto him. He hits so deep it makes your head crane back, chasing the sensation over and over again as the sound of slapping skin ensues.
"Look at you-" You barely hear him, but your body feels his words. "-looking so good bouncing on me."
You moan, head rolling forward on your shoulders. It hangs lax as you watch him.
Sweat is starting to collect on his forehead. His chest is heaving, making the star pendant on his chain catch the remaining light from outside every now and then. His eyes are heavy-lidded and there's a dazed, pleasure-drunk smile on his lips.
"You feel so fucking good," his smile pulls upwards at one side, watching your eyes close sharply, brows furrowing. "Real good, sweetheart."
Your rhythm stutters. "You can't, R-Robby-"
His hips buck to meet yours with how you whine his name, and you're thrown off for a second, slowing your bounce into a grind.
"But you're doing such a good job for me." You moan, an almost pleading look in your eyes as they meet his. But Robby is too wrapped up in the way you flutter around him. "So- fucking- good," he punctuates each word with an upwards shove of his hips and you just fold.
Your head falls to rest against Robby's shoulder, moaning out a 'fuck' sounding far too wrecked. He envelops you in his arms, loving to see the power of his praise.
Now unmoving, just rolling your hips, Robby takes it upon himself to thrust himself into you from below.
He plants his heels into the bed, finding footing to gain enough leverage to push himself into you. The bite of your nails is immediate, digging crescents into the skin above his ribs as your moans vibrate against his skin, unfiltered and constant.
You let him do as he pleases, gripping your hips, angling them to find the best angle to slide deep. Your breaths come out short, mixed with strings of fuck - so deep - Robby. Your moans only seem to spur him on, as he answers with muttering short, moaned expletives and praise.
"You gonna let go for me?" He grunts once he feels you flutter around him. "Gonna come on my cock?"
You clench him tight, unrhythmically. It's a telltale sign, but rather than nod, you shake your head.
"N-not like- fuck- this, not u-usually. But- s'good," moans fragment the sentence, but you get it out in the end.
You sound on the verge of drunk, not entirely there, and there's a haze in your eyes as Robby turns his head to face you. You're so close he can taste the pleasure on your exhales.
"How?"
It takes you a second to catch up, staring at him with your mouth hanging open as he continues thrusting up into you, even if it's more a roll of his hips than snaps.
"Missionary."
Your world suddenly tilts, a swoosh in your ears followed by a dizzying sensation behind your eyes at the unanticipated shift from being on top to below.
You blink, regaining your orientation and focusing on how Robby is now above you.
"Robby, it felt good, I can-"
"Don't mind doing the work if it makes you cum," he cuts you off. "Want you to feel just as good as me."
"Yeah?" And the way you ask, small and vulnerable, makes Robby's chest tight with frustration.
"Fuck, of course," he bends down and plants a kiss on your lips, eager to reassure you. "This isn't only for me."
He seals his words, promise, with another press of his mouth over yours.
Partly reluctant and partly eager, Robby leans away, sitting on his haunches and watching you splayed out in front of him, his cock resting against your stomach.
He can't believe the people who rushed this. He could spend hours between your thighs. With you, like this, squirming beneath his attention with kiss-swollen lips and a heaving chest.
"Look at you," the way he says it, reverent almost, makes you swallow. That white, burning sensation isn't only simmering in your core as you wait for him to touch you. It licks your skin right along the trail of his eyes.
You watch as Robby takes his cock and slaps it against your pussy. The jolt makes you twitch, your fingers digging into his kneecaps as he repeats it.
The wet slaps of skin echo, soon joined with your whimpers as he every now and then swipes his cock across your folds, jerkily nudging your clit with his tip. He only stops for a second to tilt his head down and then…
"Oh my- fuck- shit, that's-" your ramble, mind shattering as he spits on your pussy.
It's one of the lewdest things you've witnessed in person. The second filthiest is the smug, pleasure-stained glance he does up at you as his jaw hangs slack, lips curled at the edges, moving his cock with wet squelches over your clit, mixing his saliva with your slick. You moan, throwing your head back dramatically.
You feel his body settle over yours, his hand beside your head while the other grips your cheeks, making your lips pucker. As your head is tilted forward, eyes snapping wide open, you find Robby hovering close to your face.
"I want your eyes on me," his voice is gravelly, serious, and not meant to be argued with. And you don't, only nodding. "Good."
When Robby slowly moves his hips this time around and grinds his cock through your wetness, you keep your eyes locked with his. It's intoxicating, having his brown eyes unwaveringly stare into yours as your breath mingles.
As his tip bumps your clit, you whimper, already teased and riled up enough by him that the sensation sips up your spine. His chest heaves at the sound, lips remaining parted. But that's nothing compared to the bone-deep sound he groans out when he angles his hips and slides into you again.
You don't know where to go. It is too fucking much.
You trash beneath Robby, back arching only to be stopped by his sturdy chest, the wiry hair sticking against your sweaty skin. One of your hands finds its way to his lower back. The other shoots to his wrist, the one he holds your face with.
But he doesn't let go, keeping your head locked forward as he simply lets your fingers curl around his limb.
He breathes a drawn-out fuck when he bottoms out. You moan at the feeling of him stretching you out, how his curls rub against your clit and the way his weight and warmth press into you.
It's so intimate, breathing your pleasures into each other's mouths, gazes locked as you feel the furrow between your brows, the same kind pulling his together.
"Keep them open," he orders when your eyelids flutter, attempting to escape his heavy stare.
"Robby-"
"On me," he jostle your head side to side, not mean or rough, just pointed, fondly mocking.
Even if you complained through a whine, you let him, Robby feels it. Your nails don't bite into the inside of his wrist to stop him. Despite not rocking his hips, the same kind of pleasure curls his toes when realising you simply let him do as he pleases.
And you listen, you listen so goddamn good as he watches you force your eyes to stay only partly lidded rather than fall shut entirely. Your battle against pleasure —that easy, mindless daze that was growing more tangible in your eyes— makes him chuckle.
The sound is laced with amusement and desire, noticeable in the roughness of his voice, which is gritty and low in his throat. Your eyes flutter, but you keep looking at him. Even as Robby starts rocking his hips slowly —letting you adjust to the feeling of him in this position, pulling out far enough you feel empty and push in just as slowly— your eyes stay connected with his.
It isn't you who breaks first.
You keep looking at Robby when his hips start rutting with enough force that your body rocks. Even as he punches a moan out of you upon each jolt of pleasure, your eyes stay connected with his.
No, it's Robby who folds first.
While you don't know it's because of you —how those pretty eyes of yours display every last drop of pleasure contorting your face and which spills into the air with your moans— he's the one to burrow his face into your neck. The hand that previously held your face also falls, taking yours with it as he pins it at the other side of your head.
His grunts only make you wetter, each slide of his cock now accompanied by wet, squelching sounds. When he picks up the pace a notch, your pussy welcomes him by sucking him back inside as if not realising he pulled out.
The snap of his hips fills the air with the sound of smacking skin. Your moans grow louder as Robby doesn't leave a single pleasurable zone untouched. Brushing against that pleasurable spot on each thrust inside. Stimulating your clit by grinding his hips enough to curve his spine. Only to pull out and do it all over again.
Your legs cage his body as you sloppily try to meet his thrusts. It feels so fucking good but it isn't enough for Robby. He wants- needs more of you, to be closer, deeper.
He lets go of your hand and moves the forearm he's braced himself on. All of a sudden, he leans his entire weight on you as his warm hands slide beneath your ass to raise it off the bed.
Your hands shoot to his back, clinging to him, nails dragging down his lats as the angle makes you take his thrusts deep and his chest press flush against yours, trapping his Mangen David between the valley of your breasts.
"Fuck me," Robby groans beside your face upon hearing the sweetest moan of the evening from you. Deep, warbled and pleasure-drunk.
It almost does too much to him, the coil far down in his stomach jerking, threatening to make his toes curl in more than restraint.
"You feel too fucking good, I'm-"
You feel him twitch, once, twice, erratically enough you know he isn't coming but that he's damn near close to finishing with how his thrusts grow desperate.
"Do what you need to come, sweetheart. Need you to- shit, show me what you like for next time," he orders abruptly, the words hurried. You follow them with a moan, hearing how equally drunk on the pleasure he is, wedging your hand between your bodies.
It is a mixture of sweat and slick that covers your hand once your fingers circle your clit.
It's so messy, the way you can't move much with how close Robby is and how you feel him fuck into you just beneath your fingertips. But it doesn't take much. The mixture of rapidly toying with your clit and Robby's grunting in your ears as he praises you with 'that's it, sweetheart' pushes you across the edge.
You jerk, moan ripping out of you as your thighs shake. You try but can barely elongate the pleasurable high form of how intense it is, hand falling slack and being trapped when Robby continues shoving himself into you with a strangled moan upon your tightness.
It's so much that you have to hold on to the fleshy juncture between his shoulder with your teeth as your eyes fall shut, forced to accept the feeling scorching your nervous system with pleasure.
Robby comes with a near-growling moan after you start twitching each time he bumps your clit and skims your sweet spot.
His teeth graze your neck in return as he freeze deep inside, back curled as if he wants to climb into you. Your orgasm has left a dazy cloud in your head, but you feel the steady jerks of Robby inside you as he spills into the condom.
Time becomes a foggy concept you don't care much about when Robby melts into you. You welcome his weight, mouth opening and releasing him from your mouth as you pant into the humid air, your neck relaxing backwards. He does the same but keeps his face buried against your throat.
You stretch your arm —that apparently had wrapped around him during your climax— before raising your hand to the back of his head. The slow carding of your fingers through his hair makes him inhale, only to exhale a sated groan.
Slowly, it seems like Robby comes to, his lips finding your skin to soothe where he'd held you betweeen his teeth to ground himself.
He leaves a trail of feather-light kisses from the curve of your shoulder to the hollow of your throat. Before he emerges, his mouth lingers against your necklace, the metal no longer cold but just as warm as your skin.
There's a serene kind of look in Robby's eyes once they connect with yours. His brown gaze is heavy even if he pushes himself to his knees, taking his weight off of you.
Despite twitching in overstimulation once he pulls out, you smile up at him. He reciprocates with a smile of his own, but one side of his mouth bows higher in a lopsided fashion, making you giggle.
That only makes his smile grow enough to flash teeth as he asks, "What's so funny?"
"Nothing", you mumble, following how easily he takes off and ties the condom. He watches you the entire time, humming a sceptical sound, but does not say anything else about it.
"That was-"
"Good," you finish his sentence for him. His hand dips into a nod, a chuckle preceding his 'yeah'.
He looks up at you through his brows before he raises his head to face you properly.
"Do you need anything?" Your head tilts, brows arching.
It makes his head cock, eyebrows also raise until the lines of his forehead appear. "Don't tell me-"
You hurry to sit up, your body feeling like it moves like molasses, interrupting him. "I'm just not used to it, Robby."
"Boys these days," he grumbles as your hands settle on his thighs, neck craning to keep your eyes locked with his.
"You did say you didn't want to hear about the miserable dating scene."
Although it makes him chuckle, it's biting, the sound low and frustrated more than amused as he shakes his head.
"Seriously, do you need anything?" His brown eyes are locked with yours again.
"A little bit of water, maybe," you shrug slightly but blink slowly up at him when you continue, "A cuddle?"
His lips tick upwards at that, bending down to press his lips against yours before he mumbles, "Wait here."
And you don't mind just flopping back on the bed as Robby leaves the bedroom.
You can hear him move around in the apartment. The sounds are dull, as if he tries to not make too much noise. Somewhere whilst listening to him, your eyes close, basking in the afterglow.
"Haven't fallen asleep on me, have you?"
Your eyes crack open, pleasantly surprised Robby still moves around naked and for you to witness him in all his glory. "Almost could've."
"And I'm supposed to be the old one," he sends you a smile as you chuckle.
Once Robby climbs onto the bed, he sets aside the water bottle he brought, shifting the grip on the towel you'd noticed he got in his opposite hand.
"What-oh." Your face feels like it's suddenly on fire as he slowly parts your legs, only to gently wipe away all the sticky wetness between them with the lukewarm cloth.
"You should still go to the toilet," Robby's voice is soft as he instructs you, eyes flickering to your face.
"I-I know," you stutter, watching him turn and toss the towel with ease into the hamper once he's done.
He's smiling once he turns back to face you, but he doesn't mention your flustered look, instead offering the water bottle.
"Here." He holds it out for you and you take it from him.
The condensation that previously coated his fingers now drips across yours as you prop yourself on an elbow to drink. Your eyes flutter as soon as the cold water soothes your mouth and throat. After a few gulps, you hand the water bottle back to Robby, who'd settled beside you.
Shifting to lay on your side, you watch Robby also take a few mouthfuls before stretching behind him to put the bottle on the bedside table.
A warm feeling blooms in your chest as he turns back to you and instantly draws you into him.
You seamlessly tangle with him, his legs intertwining with yours, your arms around his neck, and his circling beneath and over you to engulf your upper body in a tight hug. A sigh leaves you, and Robby exhales slowly once the two of you settle.
For a moment, you just lay there, eyes closed, face pressed into his skin that's slightly damp. Your heartbeat slows into a rhythmic pound as he soothes his thumb against your spine. It only stops once he presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.
"I'll melt through the bed if you continue with that," you sigh, looking up at him while he looks down.
"Thought I already had?" Even if you roll your eyes, you catch the pull in the side of his lips. "Not regretting saying yes to my invite yet?"
You hum, fingers carding through his beard, eyes flickering over him.
"Maybe I'm-" he interrupts you with a kiss, "-starting to," another one, "-just a little bit," your smile only grows between each kiss. You start giggling when his lips stray to your cheeks and nose, "Fine, no."
You playfully push at him to stop the way his beard tickles across your face.
"Good," he kisses you one last time before you burrow your face against his chest, trying to hide from his onslaught. But Robby only chuckles, notching his chin above your head.
"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"
He doesn't see your face, but he feels your smile grow. "Should I clear my schedule to watch you cook breakfast for me?"
"You picked the perfect time when my fridge looks like a frat boy's"
"Mhm, yeah, sure," you retract from your hiding spot against his sternum to look at him. Robby is greeted with a smile that he can't help but return.
One of your arms drops from his neck so you can gently trace a finger across his face. It follows the arch of his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, the soft skin beside his eyes, and the line of his beard.
"There's a brunch spot not too far from here. I've heard it is good," you break the silence with a murmured suggestion.
Robby doesn't even need to consider it, kissing you before muttering an equally soft, "Perfect."
You arrive at Robby's apartment block not long after. It's not a skyscraper like some others in Downtown, but it's still high enough that you need to crane your neck sharply.
It isn't until he jostles his arm, the one you still have your hands wrapped around, that your attention is brought back to him.
You catch the glimmer of the keychain and fob Robby had used to unlock the door he now opens before your eyes track upwards. He's already watching you with a quirk on his lips, one that's almost hidden behind his beard. But, like always, his amusement is noticeable through the creases beside his eyes.
He ushers you inside, your hands dropping from his arm as he lets you step into the building first. But the point of contact simply shifts from you holding onto him to his touch brushing the small of your back.
The elevator is already waiting for you on the ground floor and Robby lets you step into it first after he pushes the button. He isn't far behind. Simply a foot and a bit. It's just enough to not crowd you but still let you feel him close.
As you settle against the metal railing on one side, you watch how Robby's muscle memory kicks in.
It looks well-practised, reflexive, as he leans against the railing opposite you and reaches to push a button for one of the higher floors.
The elevator kicks into life, rocking upward to begin the ascent.
Even if you and Robby stand on opposite sides of the elevator, the metal box is small enough that he isn't more than a step away from you. It makes it impossible to look at anything else, especially with how he's standing, hands shoved in his front pockets, shoulders hunched as he leans —more so is partly seated, considering his height— on the railing behind him.
Your eyes drag over his form, up to the line of his beard, lips and nose, only to settle once your gaze meets his. But your eyes only stay connected to Robby's for a second before he averts them to the floor.
The drop of his gaze evolves into a shake of his head, followed by his somewhat awkward chuckle as he admits, "I don't do this."
You don't know exactly how he would specify this. Inviting someone over after a first date or dating in general. You guess you knew he didn't do the second, at least from the sounds of it, so you settle on interpreting it as the first.
"Yeah, no, me neither," your chuckle escapes through your nose, short and leaning more towards a slightly disbelieving huff.
Brown eyes return to you even if Robby's head stays ducked. As they do, it's your turn to look elsewhere, eyes shifting sideways to watch the numbers slowly change on the display above the doors.
The movement in your periphery makes you unconsciously look back —noting how Robby has moved to stand in front of you— yet you don't have a chance to move your head before a few fingers notch under your chin, angling it straight with a slight pull.
While his hand drops from your face once your attention is on him again, Robby doesn't retake his previous position. He stays standing in front of you with a smile tugging his lips.
"I could've guessed."
"Yeah?" The word is drawn out, your mind replying the way he'd gently urged you to look at him.
"Your cross-examination isn't so subtle as you would like," he says, voice teasing and light.
"It's not meant to be. I want to scare off those who want easy."
For a moment, Robby just looks at you, and you look back at him. His brown eyes don't flitter away this time.
When he sighs, it isn't strained but soft. With a dip of his face, he notches his head lower, slightly angled to his chest, seemingly trying to fall to your eye level without actually crouching.
"I'm serious about not expecting anything to happen."
You can't help but smile as you inhale slowly, exhaling as you nod. "I know."
"Good."
"But-" Robby's eyebrows raise questioningly. "-you're standing awfully close for someone saying that. That nothing needs to happen."
His lips flatten into a line as he rocks on his feet, more backwards than forwards, even if he doesn't step in either direction.
"Do you mind?"
You can't keep away the smirk pulling at your mouth as your fingers anchor in his belt loops, giving them a slight tug. It's not more force than the crooking of your fingers could conjure, yet it's enough to decide which way Robby finally moves.
"No." Your head cranes backwards, falling to rest against the metal wall as you finally answer him. "I like having you close."
Robby's head drops, his deep and slow breathing… not really fanning, but stirring the air over the skin of your throat. The sensations cease as he speaks, "Don't know what I'd do if you didn't."
That's not true.
If anything, Robby was respectful. He'd proved that to you during the evening. If you changed your mind and wanted him to stop, you know he would. If you wanted this to just be a sleepover? He would probably say, 'So be it.'
That's why you find yourself here in the first place; he didn't assume anything or expect things would happen just because you'd agreed to a date.
You chuckle slightly, the difference from what you're used to stark. The suddenness of it makes Robby arch his brows in a silent question.
You cock your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "I had a whole speech prepared to escape the inevitable home-invite after."
He chuckles when you catch him up to speed on your thoughts. "Are guys that confident?"
"Even when they shouldn't be."
Robby hums lowly at that and waits a few beats, then, "But I didn't get it."
It was the soundless but very incredulous-tinged mental scoff the proposal usually elicits while you gave a polite smile and declined. Sorry, tired and have work tomorrow. Didn't matter if you didn't.
"Well, your confidence-" You don't know if that was the word to use. Robby had been blushing when he'd asked you to stay the night. But neither could you call him shy. No, the confidence was there, but it was the sort you felt, a reassuring kind, rather than one only seen when bragged about. "-it's… sexy."
"Yeah?" Robby tilts his head, brows just slightly raised. Your eyes flutter down, watching your thumbs brush the small strip of denim your index fingers are hooked through.
You intend to answer. But you're unable to sound out the words you planned, any traces of vowels and consonants dying on your tongue once you glance up at him through your lashes, finding him gazing at you intently. A little, agreeing hum is all you manage to give him instead.
Robby swallows hard, feeling the stirring low in his gut.
It's not the soft, fluttering kind that made him kiss you before. It's a progression, a corruption, of the worry his invite had stemmed from. Then hesitant and spurred from concern, now beating steadier, hungrier after what you revealed.
"Why did I get the pass?"
"I- you- it's just- ." Something akin to a warm flush rushes through your chest, making you stutter to a stop as you speak.
All the things you liked about Robby were for your friends to know as you raved about this date tomorrow. Not things you would say to his face during it.
And how would you even describe that it's just him? His slight awkwardness at first. The way he almost haunched his shoulders to appear smaller when you first stepped up to greet him, which you found awfully cute. Only to watch a quick-witted playfulness and calm kind of self-assurance appear during the dinner as he sat tall and much more relaxed in his chair.
It just fit him and was unbelievably attractive to you.
"Come on," Robby urges playfully. There's a glint in his brown eyes as if he knows you won't reveal it but enjoys tormenting you about it anyway.
"Are you trying to farm compliments?" You deflect.
One side of his lips rises higher. "Only if they come from you."
"God didn't know you were such a sap."
He sucks his lips against his teeth to stop his smile, but the telltale lines appear beside his eyes. "It's only been one date. You haven't seen all of me."
You roll your eyes, looking sideways to escape from his gaze once you find him watching you in entertainment. But you only succeed in getting a firsthand seat to follow his hand as it settles on the railing behind your back. You felt the other doing the same, the air on your left side stirring. He wasn't touching you but caged you in all the same, the realisation making your heartbeat pick up.
With your breath caught between your breastbone and the hollow of your throat, you face forward again. Apparently, Robby has never looked away from you.
His brown eyes are intoxicating this close, making it hard to swallow around whatever lump has grown in your throat, and your words come out thicker than you intend.
"Has anyone said you got a staring problem?"
Robby arches his brows in a quick up-and-down movement, pursing his lips. "Something tells me you don't mind."
"And that you're insufferable?"
He rocks his head back and forth, looking away but at nothing in particular as if he considers it, eventually responding when his eyes meet yours again.
"Not to my face."
"I can do them a favour." Robby chuckles, head staying cocked, nearly resting on his shoulder.
"Can you?" He questions, lines on his forehead accentuated as he sends you a sceptical look. "I can't be that insufferable if you're still here."
You humph, raising your chin defiantly. "I can still leave."
It's such a fat fucking lie, one you almost laugh at yourself. You don't want this night to end. If you did, you would already be on your way. And with the look Robby pins you with, how he scoffs as if to call bullshit, he knows it as well.
"Ohoh, I know you won't."
"You're sure of yourself."
"You learn to spot fakers when they visit your department close to every day." He shrugs.
Your brows surge upwards. "Your department?"
"Chief attending," he drops the title as if it's a minor detail he'd forgotten to mention and didn't mind omitting.
You hum at the newly learned fact. It explains his workload and the responsibility he hinted at was attached to him around the clock.
Without knowing where you're going with it —aside from the sudden need to release some of the weight from his shoulders, even if you only can work with distraction from how briefly you've known him— your hands slowly trail up his torso.
Robby inhales sharply, chest expanding rapidly beneath your palms as his nostrils flare. His eyes snap down to your hands and then up to your face.
"Well, Mr Chief Attending." One of your hands stops at his chest while the other circles his neck. You tug him towards you, feel him exhale only to sharply breathe in the air close to your lips. "You're right. I'm more than comfortable being here," you mumble, this time being the one to initiate a kiss.
Robby reciprocates instantly, pressing his mouth against yours, hands finding your hips.
You go one step further than he'd done previously when you lick into his mouth, gliding your tongue over his with a tilt of your head and slow flex of the muscle.
A near-buzzing shiver spreads from the back of your head, down your neck, arms and further along your spine when he meets your tongue with his own.
It's only by luck you manage to stop your moan. It had been so long since you went on a date with someone, let alone made out with anyone. That it was Robby who now broke both of those too-long spells was a dizzying thought. It was not made easier by the low sound you definitely caught vibrating in his throat.
Suddenly, he breaks the kiss, pinning his forehead to yours as his eyes remain shut, a drawn-out groan now audible in the elevator's small space.
"Kiss me like that, and you'll send me mixed signals about tonight." His fingers dig into your hips in a warning.
You know what he means, still, you coily ask, "And what signal are those?"
He leans away, not far since your hand still cups the back of his head. He pins you with a heated look.
"That we're about to do something neither of us usually does."
It's silent after he says it, at least in the elevator. But in your ears, your pulse is pounding.
Somewhere, not even deep down, you already knew it could happen. Not in the general way dates could lead to something more, something shared in the dim light after a home invite. But from what had flittered through your head, body, when Robby had kissed you the first time.
A need was what it had been, a need for this night not to end. The feeling only grew the longer you spent with him, from something excited and pleased into something low and thrumming in your core rather than chest.
And fuck, you really didn't mind if this night ended in the polar opposite to one of innocent bed-sharing, now when you considered it. Not at fucking all with how Robby's brown eyes met yours or how his chest wasn't far from considered heaving.
"You make it feel way too right." If Robby hadn't stood so close, he probably wouldn't have caught your words. They were murmured more against his lip than said into the open air.
His eyes jump back and forth before settling into steady eye-contact. "Is that a yes?"
"Yes, Robby, it is." He surges toward you, lips and tongue moving in tandem with yours, dictating the kiss this time around.
It literally and figuratively takes your breath away. Your hand on Robby's chest fists the material of his jumper, and the one on his neck digs into the skin just below his hairline.
You can't stop the pitched sound from forming in the back of your throat. And judging from his reaction, Robby eats it right up. Leaning more, not all, of his weight against you as he grunts into your mouth.
It's the ping of the elevator doors that breaks you apart.
Robby doesn't linger, yet the look he sends as he steps away is heated. His eyes skate to your mouth, returning with a smirk sowly curling his mouth when he sees your lips stay parted.
You fluster, sending him a glare. "Shut up."
"I didn't say anything." He's so full of it. And of it, you mean smugness. It's eating at his words as he leads you out of the elevator.
"Fuck you," you mutter.
Apparently, it isn't low enough for him to miss.
It's easy for Robby to settle his hand where your neck meets your spine as he walks beside you. His hand, hot, heavy and large, reaches around your nape in a way that reminds you of a kitten being scruffed. But his fingers don't dig even if they brush either side of your throat.
If your heart isn't already in your throat, it jumps there when Robby bends until his mouth brushes close to your temple, words dripping down your skin and into your ear, "I'm planning to."
And he says it without losing his pace, not missing a step. Meanwhile, your inhale is sharp as your face jerks to watch him, met by his very pleased expression.
"You're enjoying this way too much."
"Oh no," he elongates the o's as he cocks his head. He proceeds his following words with a minimal, single shrug of his shoulders, "You're just making it too easy."
The look in his eyes is way too entertained, brown eyes twinkling in amusement as his crow's feet grow. It's enough for you to knock his hand off your neck, but it only works in his favour as he grabs his keychain again, stopping by a door you presume is his with a deep chuckle.
And well, Robby is right. You make it easy for him because he makes it easy for you.
You forgo any filling conversation as he loops his arms around you once the door is locked behind you once more. It's not yet teenage desperation. You share a moment where you gaze at each other, your small smile mirrored back at you from behind his beard.
But once you meet in the middle, you lose yourself in him, how it feels so right, good to kiss him. The tingles never subside, not with how his lips move in sync with yours, the heavy press of his hand at the back of your head, his warm tongue caressing your own.
"Do you want this? To continue?" Robby asks as he parts with a soft groan, head bent, observing you through his brows.
"God, yes," you breathe.
"Good, because I also want to." That he admits it after you answered only makes you realise how good of a man Robby is, not wanting to pursue you in any direction. "Shoes off, I'm not doing it here, too old for that shit."
Your chuckle slips through the lip caught between your teeth. The way he says it, not meant like anything else than a comment —one that tickles you— but still sounding so commanding does more to you than he ever could guess.
You could see the chief attending thing, now.
As he toes off his shoes, he offers you a hand to help you balance while you slip off your heels. You don't care that only one remains standing while the other clatters sideways when Robby pulls you forward, attention zeroed in on him.
He leads you straight through the large, open space that serves as his living room and kitchen. The two areas are separated by the feet between the back of his couch and the kitchen island. More than that, you don't manage to gather about his home as he drags you along.
As he arrives at the door he led you to, Robby is quick to turn around and tug you against him once he steps across the threshold. You let yourself be brought closer to him.
Robby settles his large palm on your cheek, angling your face to his liking before dipping down into a deep kiss. It's the kind that has your heart thrumming wildly and thoughts dispersed in all directions until they rush back, focusing on him.
A heated flush spreads through your body. You feel like you are burning up from the feel of his beard chafing against your chin, how his hand isn't shy to travel down your body and settle on your lower back, and how he pulls your hips flush against his pelvis.
"Jesus, Robby," you break away from him, forehead instantly dropping against his chest as you catch your breath.
You can't meet his gaze as your chest heaves for air, the tension in your body amounting dangerously fast as there's definitely a bulge pushed into your stomach.
"Too much?" Although the hand previously cupping your face has already moved to your neck, he shifts the one on your back, sliding it until his whole arm encircles your waist.
You're completely pressed against him now, chest to thighs, realising he's not afraid to keep you close even if you feel him straining against his jeans.
"Too much, not enough," the words rush from you as you look at him again. His chin had dropped considerably to look at you from how close you two were.
There's a tug in his lips, a delighted kind of satisfaction in his eyes as he steps backwards, leading you deeper into the room. You have no option but to follow along his shuffling steps.
Moving further inwards, Robby slowly reveals more of the bedroom his frame previously covered. As he does, your eyes can't help but track sideways, landing on the corner that's disturbing the otherwise tidy space. A giggle slips out before you can quell it.
Upon the sound, Robby's brows furrow, following your line of sight.
He groans when he looks over his shoulder. The scattered piles of clothes in the corner of the room are right where he —forgot— he left them. Some hanging over the loveseat, others crumpled on the floor.
"Sorry 'bout the mess. It doesn't usually look like that."
You find yourself smiling, the incipient haze from desire settling into something more manageable and not gnawing at every fibre of your being.
"Didn't think you would get any visitors?"
"Would lie if I said no." He chuckles sheepishly, eyes moving back to you
"You should see my place," you laugh along with him. "It looked like a hurricane ran through it. I couldn't find anything to wear."
"I'm inclined to disagree", he hums, not breaking eye contact as his fingers creep beneath your cardigan. Only once he does, Robby finds there's no shirt, only skin.
His smile falls, his eyes flickering down and up as his lips remain parted once he realises you have nothing beneath the top. One you apparently considered enough of a shirt to wear on its own.
"But I reckon I'll like what's underneath even more."
"Stop flirting with me." You breathe, inhaling deeply at the sensation of his rough palm finding its way beneath your clothes, now stroking your spine right above your jeans.
"Deserve to be flirted with-" his eyes drop to follow your body, and you can nearly see how he imagines what's beneath,"-when looking this good."
You whine, quelling it by gripping Robby's chin, pulling his face to yours, hastily pressing your mouth to his. Even though he reciprocates the kiss with a surprised grunt, it's brief before he dips his head to your ear.
"Don't sidetrack me," he mutters hotly, his voice rough, deeper than before.
If your skin wasn't already ridden with goosebumps, the shiver zipping down your pine at the gravel coating his vocal cords definitely would've prickled your skin.
Your fingers curl into his jumper once Robby's soft lips descend down your throat, his beard scratching along your skin. An unsteady sound swishes past your lips as your head lolls backwards.
You're positive he feels your pulse hammer beneath your skin as he reaches the hollow of your throat. And if he doesn't, he must feel how it halts altogether when he licks into the divot between your clavicles, tongue scooping the thin chain into his mouth to suck gently at, having it tug slightly into your neck.
"Fuck," you barely know where your hands scramble for purchase, but you dig your fingers into some parts of Robby.
You can't understand how he's winding you up this much without a single piece of clothing stripped from your body, with so little skin to access. But he does, and he does it well.
"Robby, fuck, I-I neeed-."
"Need me to touch you properly?" He chuckles against your throat, dropping the chain against your skin again, now spit-slicked.
You squirm, a frustrated noise preceding your equally frustrated 'yes'. You feel his mile grow from the way his beard tickles in a new way and a little higher up.
"Want me to start with this?" Robby's words wash over your skin as his hands settle on your stomach, toying with the front of your cardigan.
Your head drops forward, unable to see how he tugs at the hem of it even though you feel it.
His soft, brown hair brushes your cheek as your face rests against his. Your eyes are locked on his haunched shoulder, not focusing at first. But once it does, you realise you're the one who's kept him against your throat by the hand on his neck.
"Y-yeah, but don't rip it. I like this one," your voice is shaky as you ease your grip, letting your hand fall to his shoulder.
Robby leans away as he feels the pressure on the back of his head disappear, enough so his eyes can meet yours.
"Never intended to," he inhales deeply as his fingers fiddle with the lowest button, popping it open. "But now, when you've said it, I'm expecting I can rip something off you next time."
"Wouldn't mind." He groans, leaning in to catch your lips momentarily. You hum happily into the kiss, Robby mirroring the pleased sound but a few octaves deeper.
When the press slows until your lips simply brush, his forehead comes to rest against yours, head tilting as he gazes down your body. Meanwhile, you find yourself watching him.
It's torture, pure and debauched torture.
Robby is teasingly slow to unbutton your shirt. You almost wish he wouldn't have listened and ripped it off your body. Then you wouldn't have to squirm beneath his eyes reverently following the fabric part, revealing more of your skin for each buttoned opened.
And he seems to like it, taking his goddamn time, stretching out the process, letting his little fingers brush beneath the fabric. Never more than teasing you with his touch.
By the time he finally undoes the last button, your heart is hammering wildly in your chest.
The fabric hangs loosely, revealing a strip of skin down your middle. Robby slides his index beneath the fabric covering your shoulders, only to push it off completely.
When the piece of clothing drops behind you, he leans his upper body backwards.
"You wore this?" He rumbles, chest rising and falling notably, eyes moving from your bra to lock with your eyes.
"Makes me feel pretty." It does. The lace is remarkably comfortable to make your boobs look as good as they do in it.
"Makes you look fucking beautiful." The words wash across your skin as Robby bends down to kiss the area above your breasts, the view he hasn't stopped staring at.
Your eyes flutter when his big hands settle on either side of your bare upper body. Splayed wide across your ribs, his fingers press into the soft divots between them.
His lips move feather light first, brushing more than kissing. Then, he grows more intent. The occasional feel of his tongue now laps over the swell of your breast, the softness of them revealed above the line of fabric. Robby groans as he does, and soon, he's pressing open-mouthed kisses firmly enough that he steps into you, forcing you backwards.
Not until you feel a mattress hit the back of your knees and thighs, forcing you to sit down, do you realise he knowingly led you to the bed.
You sit down with a bounce, catching yourself with your hands behind your back. Robby has stopped before you, towering even if you sat upright. Although his head is bowed to accommodate, his gaze is cast lower than your face.
"Eyes are up here." A smile pulls at your lips when you realise what's got Robby's attention.
His brown gaze travels upwards, a wry smile preceding his excuse, "You would do the same with a similar view."
"So give me something to ogle at." You poke your foot against his calf, truly enjoying the pink spreading across his cheeks. But he doesn't argue, simply grabs the back of his jumper, pulling off both layers in one motion.
As he strips, Robby finds himself waiting for your reaction, gauging in what way you look at him. He does it with glances at you between throwing his shirts aside and working his jeans off his legs.
He's not expecting anything in particular, but he knows he isn't in his prime. Fifteen years ago, maybe. More visibly toned muscle, sharper lines of definition. All of the accompanying strength remains, if it hasn't actually increased over decades of labour. However, that doesn't take away the fact it's hidden behind aged softness.
But he hears you whisper 'Oh, fuck' as your eyes flicker over him. Only to be followed by his name as you desperately take hold of his hand to urge him closer, a need so evident in your eyes that it even creases your brows.
"Christ," he groans against your lips, catching himself with one knee on the bed, hands beside you, stopping himself from falling onto you as you drag him down.
"Should I take that as you like what you saw?" He gets out between the press of your mouth against his.
You hear how he tries to beat down his self-satisfaction, but it feels like you don't know where to go. The desire to have him close and stare at him simultaneously tears you in different directions. But the latter wins this time, your head falling against the mattress so you can stare at him.
His body, god, you could snap your teeth, sink them into him with how feral it made you. His arms, the bulge of his bicep flexing beside your head and the tattoos you spotted. The dark hair speckled across his chest, the Magen David you saw for the first time hung from his neck and glittered on its golden chain.
And when your eyes glide from his sculpted upper body to his softer middle and lower stomach, the dark, happy trail running from his stomach only to disappear beneath his black trunks, you writhe.
"Robby," you whine his name, eyes flittering up to him only to fall down his body again. "You-"
"Don't need to hear it," he cuts you off with a chuckle. One side of his mouth is quirked a little higher, but not without the blush still cresting over his cheeks. "Your turn. You're way too dressed."
He's got you watching him in silence as he pushes himself upright again.
With your eyes gliding over his flexing arms as he unbuttons and starts rucking down your jeans —with your assisting wiggles and kicking— Robby barely leaves you any space to be irritated at the ordeal.
You don't care where the heavy material even thumps to the ground before you're sitting up, this time meeting Robby in the middle as he bends down.
Your mouth moves eagerly against his, your arm reaching around his neck as you lay down again, simultaneously trying to scoot up the bed to make room for him. What you don't anticipate is him looping one arm around your waist and heaving you upwards.
You slide up the mattress with an excited gasp, parting from his lips as your wide eyes meet his as he climbs over you.
It's been more than a while since Robby did this. The memory of someone else's warmth seeping into his body faint, burrowed and forgotten due to time. But if it doesn't feel good to hold you close, feel you crane your neck to give him access to the spot beneath your ear so willingly.
He feels a moan scratch his throat at the way your nails bite into his muscles, back arching, gasp getting stuck in your throat as he finally reaches and closes his lips around your still-clothed nipple.
It's perked behind the flimsy lace, and he sucks it through what barely can be called a cover. Yet he only spends so much time teasing you, the hand splayed beneath you slipping upwards, easily reaching the clasp between your shoulder-blades.
You shoot him a look as he opens the clasp and helps peel the material from your arms. Brows arched and your mouth open yet curled upward at the edges.
"You learn a thing or two", his mumble fans between the valley of your breasts as he switches from one to the other nipple.
Without the barrier of your bra —which you don't know where Robby tossed it— the swipe of his tongue is wetter, hotter. When he closes his lips around the peaked bud and sucks, you moan, the sound soft and breathy.
You arch closer to him, eyes falling shut. With how he's positioned between your thighs, you can't clench them to ease the throbbing there. But your frustrated whine pivots sharply to a harsh breath when you grind against the upper part of his crotch, sensing the outline of his hard-on.
You hold your breath as you shimmy your hips, reaching just a bit lower. When you roll your hips this time, Robby's bulge presses firmly into you.
A moan punches out of you, letting free all of the air trapped there moments prior. When you continue to roll your hips, Robby breaks away from teasing your nipple between his teeth, pressing his face between your breasts.
"Fuck." Oh, the way he cursed, low and on the verge of a growl into your skin, dripped straight down between your legs, making you clench around nothing, "If you keep doing that-"
"What? I'll regret it? " His bearded chin scraped across your skin as he perched it on your chest, staring up at you. "Don't think so."
He moves upwards until his head hangs between his shoulders, necklace dangling in the air, face hovering above yours.
"You got a mouth on ya."
"And you-," you hook a finger in his golden chain, gently tugging it so he sinks closer, never not rolling your hips upwards, not when he now presses himself against you, egging you on. "-got something I want inside me."
A flurry of emotion passes through his eyes and his mouth drops open on a restrained pant. "Oh, be careful what you ask for."
"Do you need me to beg?"
His head tilts slowly, "I wouldn't mind."
Your heartbeat picks up a few notches at the drawl in his voice, forcing another shiver of anticipation through your body.
You bend your knees as high as they go with Robby between them, feet brushing against his underwear when you cross your ankles behind his back. When you tug him against you by digging your heels into his spine, you feel his cock twitch against you. The feeling is muted through the fabric still separating you but enough to embolden you to speak steadily.
"Please, I need you," you release his chain, cradling his face as you meet his gaze through your lashes, layering it on extra thick when you speak again. "Please, Michael."
He snaps. His mouth crashes against yours, making you swallow his groan.
You feel him shuffle, knock his knuckles against your thigh when wedging a hand between your bodies to pull at his underwear. Letting your legs fall and splay sideways, you try to concentrate on reciprocating the hungry tangling of your tongues while Robby yanks his boxers down, only parting from your lips when he needs to reach lower to kick them off.
When a hot, heavy weight taps and stays resting against your stomach, you look down. Eyes travelling down your body —all while Robby settles back to evenly distribute his weight on both his forearms— your mouth drops open.
"Of course."
"What?" You find his head tilted when your eyes return to his face.
"You're big." Big was an understatement to all the synonyms you could use. Thick, girthy, heavy as it hung between his legs, tip flushed, and the base covered with thick, but not unkept, dark hair. "And, of course, you are after I haven't slept with anyone in ages.
"Said to be careful what you wished for," he has the nerve to chuckle, letting himself fall against you, at least his lower body, trapping his cock snuggly between your and his stomach. "But I'll prep you good."
"Jesus fucking Christ, Robby." Your groan, wringing the sheets beneath you in a knuckled grip.
Even if the smugness faded to give way to something softer as he'd said it, that it came from him in that voice made your stomach flip.
Your breathing was already unsteady, but it grew worse when he began kissing down your body. Only to shudder to a stop when Robby's beard scrapes against your hip as he parts your legs wide to fit his shoulder when he lays down on his stomach.
The muscles in your thighs tremble as he uses his chin to tease the inside of your legs with his beard. Without realising it, your eyes had shut somewhere along the way of Robby working his way to the fabric of your underwear. Yet, they open once you feel him stop, his breath fanning against your core as he hovers.
Your eyes open, shifting down, lips parting open upon the sight of Robby between your legs.
His brown eyes are dark, with a raw, heady kind of steadiness as he keeps your gaze. And he continues holding it until you squirm, trying and failing not to crumble under his attention.
You catch his slight smirk when his gaze finally drops, and he peels the fabric of your thong sideways, the thin strip of material hooked on his finger.
"Fuck so pretty," his deep groan fills the air. Seconds later, his broad tongue laps up the seam of your pussy.
Your lips part, moan spilling into the air as your hips chase after the sensation leaving a searing trail up to your clit. When Robby's lips find your bundle of nerves, sucking, only to flick it with the tip of his tongue, he has to wrap his arms around your thighs and lock his hands over your stomach to stop your bucking.
When Robby dips lower, inserting his tongue into your drenched hole, he moans. Your taste fills his mouth, nearly making his eyes roll into the back of his head.
You feel him moan into you as he eats you out. It's enough to make you spiral and want more. Trying to move your hips to guide him closer, you cry out in frustration at the broad palms pressing into your abdomen, restricting all movement.
You don't know if Robby is using all of his strength, but from the lack of tension in his shoulders, you would guess that he isn't. Your head swirls with the realisation that he can keep you pinned with a fragment of his strength.
A strangled whine bubbles in your throat as Robby he drags his tongue back from your entrance and through your slit, circling it over your clit lazily. And then something shifts, like he's done playing nice when you've gotten used to his touch. The edge of finesse is overruled by slurping sounds as he buries his face deeper, dragging his beard without care that it collects your wetness.
Your thighs snap against his head and your hand shoots to his hair to tug on it. He grunts at the sting, making your stomach clench.
While you ease your grip when his brown eyes meet yours, your head snaps backwards when he uncurls one arm, wedging it between his face and your thigh and pins it with his elbow at the perfect angle to reach your clit.
His thumb rolls the bundle of nerves as his tongue wriggles into your hole, and you keen, mindful enough to wring the life of the already lifeless duvets rather than Robby's hair this time around.
You feel him smile before he mumbles, "Need something else?"
With your mouth agape, eyes closed tightly shut, still angled towards the roof, you nod.
"Need words, sweetheart," he mutters between laps.
You whine at the teasing lilt in his voice, accidentally tightening the grip on his hair before you catch yourself. "Yeah…"
"What do you need?"
"I-I…" your stuttering words halt in a sudden gasp when he increases the speed at which he toys with your clit just as you're about to speak. "What's that?" But he doesn't let up immediately. He enjoys making you moan, being unable to answer his question as long as he rolls your bundle of nerves.
When he eventually lets the digit rest against the bundle beneath his thumb, feeling it jump slightly as you clench around nothing from the previous pleasure, you take a deep breath like you haven't been able to until now. Once you do, the words tumble from you, "I need your fingers, something to fill me!"
He hums low and in the back of his throat. "Promised to stretch you good, didn't I?"
Your nod turns into a gasp when he dips a thick finger into you, which pivots into a moan when he slips another finger in with the first after pumping it a few times.
Robby curls his digits, watching your face contort before it relaxes. Soft breaths or moans spill from your lips depending on how he strokes them and what spot he hits inside you. They all make his cock throb, and he can't help but rock his hips into the bed, groaning at the pleasure.
"Fuck, sweetheart, the sounds you make." He sees you shudder, and a gratifying pleasure rises, watching you writhe in pleasure, knowing you're doing it because of him.
Maintaining his weight on his knees, Robby pushes up to balance above you. Still rhythmically pumping his fingers, he uses his other hand to curl beneath your neck, cupping it to tilt your head to face him.
Your eyes open, surprise and pleasure intertwined in your gaze.
"There she is." The skin beside his eyes crinkles. "Can you keep those pretty eyes on me? I want to see how good you feel."
You blink, nod, "Y-yeah."
One side of his lip curls a little higher, and then he starts jerking his whole hand up and down. You squeal, hands flying to hold onto him from the onslaught of pleasure.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Your answer is a moan as you stare at his profile, his eyes cast down at your body. "Yeah, it does. Just look at you, taking them so good for me", Robby mutters, almost as if he doesn't realise he is saying it.
But you do, the lightning down your spine revealing you certainly do.
His eyes flicker back and forth, from watching himself finger you to meeting your eyes. You can't describe the look in them, but it makes your jaw go slack and your mouth hang open, moans ripping themselves from your lungs.
Robby groans at the way you clench around him, the image of you doing it around him making his cock twitch, greedy to finally slide into you.
"That's it, just a little more," he heaves, eyes zeroed in on the glistening slick coating his wrist. "Doing so good for me, sweetheart."
Your breath hitch, limbs locking up as your fingers twitch, nails dig into his bicep.
There's a tight vibration in your chest as you register his words. The weight of them, the desire curled around them. They made you melt and tense at the same time.
A flush burns your whole body, alight and addictive while simultaneously making you fidgety. It's too much, it's-
"Stop, please stop-"
Robby halts the movement of his fingers, mind spiralling in milliseconds towards the worst possible scenario as his eyes snap up to you again.
"You can't say shit like that," you continue, eyes open but not really meeting his gaze, flickering across his face, then sideways, only to repeat the pattern.
Robby's breath rushes from his lungs, calming down when he realises he hadn't pushed too far or that you'd changed your mind. "No?"
You're about to answer, but he accidentally bumps your clit as he slides from within you to settle on your thigh. Your mouth snaps shut, instead giving him a sharp nod.
"Why?"
"Because," you glance up at him, trying to send him a 'this conversation is over' kind of look, but it fails hilariously with the visible desire softening the glare.
He jerks his head sideways, not beating down the quirk on his lips. "Not working, sweetheart. You look just as pretty with a pout on your face."
You squirm enough that Robby needs to move his hand to your hip when your thighs shut. While your gaze falls on nothing in particular, he watches you in intrigue. And it dawns on him.
"You like the praise."
Your eyes widen and snap to meet his, only to be forcefully shut as you groan.
A disbelieving but much more pleased huff escapes Robby upon your reaction. And even if he knows there is nothing to test —your fidgeting and nervous eye-contact was enough— he still decides to tease you.
"You like it. I know you do," Robby hums, eyes flittering down to watch his hand gently slide back between your legs, cupping your mound.
You whine as one of his long fingers slips between your outer lips, collecting your slick before he slides his finger into you again. Once he curls it, stroking that spongy spot on the roof of your walls, your hips shift.
"Just look at you, writhing so prettily when I praise you for taking my fingers so good," he muses, attention returning to your face. Your eyes are squeezed shut, lips pressed tight together as if to force yourself to be silent.
Robby has to fight a chuckle as he bends down, head dipped low enough to brush your ear and disturb your hair with his heavy breaths.
"Come one, sweetheart, tell me how good it feels." He smirks as you tighten and flutter around him. "Tell me you're growing desperate for me to fill you up with my cock and call you a good girl for taking me so-."
You suddenly whip your head towards him, pressing your mouth against his in a haphazard kiss to shut him up, swallowing his laugh in the process.
Before Robby manages to more than reciprocate the kiss, you flip him over while he's distracted, knee pushed against his hip as you set him off balance.
His fingers slip from inside you, the kiss breaking as you settle on his lap.
Your breathing is laboured, pleasure still making your nerves buzz as you stare down at him. He watches you smugly, seemingly not taken aback that you managed to reverse your position.
"You're going to exploit this too much." You tell him, palm pressed pointedly into his chest, brows furrowed.
His eyes twinkle as he stares up at you. His hands naturally seek out your thighs, one hand slick with your wetness. "You've only known me for a few hours."
"And yet I know you will."
"Yeah, you're right," he breathes, smile unfolding entirely.
You marvel at the boyish but awfully charming smile of his. But only for a second, utilising having your sopping wet pussy sitting on his aching cock to wipe the too-entertained look off his face.
When you roll your hips, the effect is immediate. His brows furrow, eyes closing, a moan filling the air, thick and raspy.
It's intoxicating watching a man like Robby give in to pleasure. Feel him do as his fingers dig into your hips, urging you to press firmer against him with each slide of your pussy.
He must feel your stare as his eyes open, heavy-lidded and pleasure-filled gaze meeting yours.
"Using it against me," his words are cut, followed by a deep moan.
"Just letting you feel how wet you made me," your voice is nearly a purr, never letting up on swivelling your hips.
"Talks dirty but can't take praise," he chuckles breathily, but the sound falters into a groan.
"Bet if I started praising you, you would react-"
"Come here," he cuts you off, one hand yanking at your wrist, tugging your chest flush against his.
He kisses you with an open mouth, tongue pushing against yours as his teeth graze your bottom lip. As he unwraps his hand from your wrist, you wriggle both your hands from between you, planting them on either side of his face.
You don't care about finishing your sentence when you part from Robby, your lips having the sole purpose of mapping the skin of his throat.
Leaving lingering kisses along the same path, your hands wander, and you soon reach the top of his chest. But you don't stop once wiry hair presses against your lips, and Robby seems to notice as his hand suddenly grips your upper arm, preventing you from shuffling further down than you already had managed.
"Oh, sweetheart, you don't want to do that."
Your eyes flicker to meet Robby's, which are already set on you. "You don't even know what I was going to do."
He chuckles admonishingly, the look he sends you silently saying he's been in the game long enough to know exactlywhat you wanted to do.
"I won't last long," he warns, still holding onto your arm. "Even shorter if you blow me."
"Please, just a taste." The sound he releases stems from deep in his lungs.
"Fine," he grits out, releasing you. "But I'm not cumming like this."
Your lower lip catches between your teeth as you scoot down with a nod.
When your breath fans across his length, it twitches before your eyes. Your gaze flickers to Robby as it does, your smile breaking from the confines you try to keep it under.
As one of your hands closes around his shaft, you watch how his eyes flutter shut, a groan following as you lean in and swirl your tongue around the tip.
There's a stretch in your jaw when you open your mouth wide to close your lips around him. You can taste yourself, but behind it, it's Robby's unique muskiness, tangy and salty but in no way off-putting. You don't even realise you're humming until his hand tangles in your hair and gives a tug once.
Even if he most likely intended it as a warning, it only spurs you to move.
Your eyes close as you slip down his cock, taking him shy of your gag reflex before retreating. His hand twitches as you bob your head, but he doesn't demand anything. By the sounds of it, he simply does it to anchor himself.
You lose yourself in swallowing him down, enjoying the girth that you know will make your jaw ache sooner rather than later. But it's worth it. His deep and rumbling moans do nothing but spur you on and make you mindlessly swirl your tongue and suckle at his tip.
"No- no teasing," he chokes out, broken on a grunt and an aborted thrust after you flicked your tongue against the underside of his cockhead.
You let go of him to speak, but don't stop jerking your hand at his base. With your mouth out of the way, he gives in, rolling his hips into your spit-slicked fist, groans following his motion.
"I'm not." You grin up at him only to lean down to push your tongue pointedly at the underside of his tip, the very same sensitive area that makes him inhale through his teeth, pleasure edging on too much.
"Fucking- no goddamn teasing if you want this to end early."
"Pent up-", you kiss his cock between your words, "-much?"
Robby's eyes are already dark, but suddenly, it feels like you stare more into black than brown. His gaze is heavy to hold, clouded with lust.
You're almost vibrating while running your tongue against the back of your teeth, collecting a pool of saliva in your mouth.
With your eyes locked with Robby's brown ones, you spit onto his tip, keeping his cock upright with solely a thumb to not prevent the glob of saliva from trickling down his length.
You bend down to catch it with your tongue once it reaches his base, dragging your tongue flat to smear it over him. You make sure he's still watching you when you slap his cock against your tongue a few times, smiling as you do.
He twitches violently and maybe that should've been enough forewarning that the hand in your hair would tighten and pull you away.
"That's enough from you," Robby drags you off before he feels the curl of his toes, the release of the pleasurable tug in his abdomen. He knew your mouth could get him there. Especially if you pull stunts like that.
You don't speak as you let him guide you into his lap, but your shit-eating grin gives away everything you don't say.
As you straddle him again, he looks sideways as he stretches one arm towards the bedside table. He manages to open it and dip his hand inside, only to pull out an easily recognisable foil. Your lips manage to purse before you roll them inwards.
"Don't pout," Robby's comment draws your attention back to him again. He's looking up at you with stern eyes, without a doubt having caught your reaction. "Don't tempt me."
"Always feel better without." His hand, which had found your thigh, gives a warning squeeze.
"Don't fucking make me a bad doctor by listening to you," he grinds out, pointing at you with the condom pinched between his index and middle finger. "And you should be careful."
You can't help but chuckle at the medical advice given despite the setting.
"Don't worry, Dr Robby, I'm on birth control, and I always check with my partners." You card your fingers through his chest, bending until you go from steadying yourself with your hands to settling on your underarms. "Besides, I always test myself after either way."
"Aren't you a good girl?" You reactively swat his chest, body set ablaze, heat licking along your entire backside.
"I know you would do this," you accuse.
Robby smirks at you. "Not sorry in the slightest."
"Fuck you," you murmur, but there's no venom behind it, so he simply hums a 'mhm' and raises his chin to swipe you into a kiss.
The exchange is slow, leaning more towards lazy, with Robby exhaling heavily through his nose as you melt against his mouth. Regardless, it leaves you breathless, enough that a shaky inhale proceeds your question once you lean away.
"So-" You lick your lips. Robby's eyes flitter to the move as if he wants to pull you close again, before his gaze returns. "-know if you're clean?"
He should be, Robby hasn't slept with anyone in a long time. But he hasn't had a test, don't know for sure and fuck if he wishes he knew.
"Don't know," he groans, lamenting his own tardiness.
"Don't you practically work where they're taken?" You're mouth jerks as you now twirl his chain lazily around your finger before uncurling it.
"Not like I take my lunch break to do STI checks," he scoffs. Over his fucking dead and buried body that he would take one at PTMC anyway.
Your smile only grows as you curl your finger —making his head raise as the chain digs into his neck— and press a kiss to his lips. "Next time, then?"
"Yeah, next time," he mumbles, following you as you sit up straight, his necklace resting against his chest once more.
You waste no time in shuffling down his body. As you do, you spot the ripped open foil, only to realise Robby has already managed to roll the condom over himself.
With the low current running through your body, anticipation, need, you don't hesitate to grind against him once you settle atop him.
There's a tinge of disappointment at feeling the rubber keep that silky warmth at bay, but feeling him rock solid and twitching makes your mouth water all the same.
Once gliding over him easily, you rise slightly onto your knees, grabbing hold of his cock to line him up.
He's prepped you well —just like he promised— his tip gliding in easily once you lower yourself slightly, one hand anchoring you on his chest to not drop too fast.
"Yeah, fuck, that's it, sweetheart," he rumbles as you slowly sink down on him, rolling your hips to go up and progressively lower.
You shut your eyes, exhaling raggedly at the pleasurable warmth of his words and his cock spreading you open.
About two-quarters down, you stop.
No longer required to keep him aligned with your entrance, your other hand falls to his chest to steady yourself as you simply breathe, accustoming to his girth.
Robby must see that you slowed. Heck, he must have felt how tightly you clenched him as you needed a moment to collect yourself. But he doesn't push you to continue when his fingers dig into your hip, simply kneading the flesh.
What you don't know is there's a loop of 'think of kittens and puppies' rolling around in his head, but it's more words than pictures as he can't wipe away what he sees, you hovering, mouth agape and another two inches to go. It's enough to bust. And with how tight and wet you are, hugging him like a dream, fuck...
"I know, it's a lot to take", his voice thick, raspier than before, eyes seeking yours from beneath. Once you hold his gaze steadily, he continues, "But you're doing so good for me."
A shiver runs down your spine, and you clench around him again, but once you relax, you find yourself sinking deeper.
Experimentally, you roll your hips, rising slightly on your knees, before pushing down again. This time around, you slide far enough that the hair on his pelvis tickles against your mound. Robby moans as you do, rendered speechless. The sound is intoxicating enough that you chase it again, moving your hips to slide him out of you only to settle down with the added force of your body weight.
"Oh-"
"That's it-shit" The groan, deep and vibrating from the chest beneath your hand, makes you clench as you finally manage to fully settle into Robby's lap.
You watch with lidded eyes how he clenches his jaw, hissing an additional fuck through his teeth as his head falls backwards on the pillow.
Once you start moving up and down, your and Robby's moans sound at the same time.
The dark happy trail leading down his abdomen, underneath you, to connect with the hair at the base of his cock acts exactly as the stimulation you need when starting at a slow and steady rock.
When you feel comfortable enough, you lift onto your knees, arching your back, dropping your weight onto him. He hits so deep it makes your head crane back, chasing the sensation over and over again as the sound of slapping skin ensues.
"Look at you-" You barely hear him, but your body feels his words. "-looking so good bouncing on me."
You moan, head rolling forward on your shoulders. It hangs lax as you watch him.
Sweat is starting to collect on his forehead. His chest is heaving, making the star pendant on his chain catch the remaining light from outside every now and then. His eyes are heavy-lidded and there's a dazed, pleasure-drunk smile on his lips.
"You feel so fucking good," his smile pulls upwards at one side, watching your eyes close sharply, brows furrowing. "Real good, sweetheart."
Your rhythm stutters. "You can't, R-Robby-"
His hips buck to meet yours with how you whine his name, and you're thrown off for a second, slowing your bounce into a grind.
"But you're doing such a good job for me." You moan, an almost pleading look in your eyes as they meet his. But Robby is too wrapped up in the way you flutter around him. "So- fucking- good," he punctuates each word with an upwards shove of his hips and you just fold.
Your head falls to rest against Robby's shoulder, moaning out a 'fuck' sounding far too wrecked. He envelops you in his arms, loving to see the power of his praise.
Now unmoving, just rolling your hips, Robby takes it upon himself to thrust himself into you from below.
He plants his heels into the bed, finding footing to gain enough leverage to push himself into you. The bite of your nails is immediate, digging crescents into the skin above his ribs as your moans vibrate against his skin, unfiltered and constant.
You let him do as he pleases, gripping your hips, angling them to find the best angle to slide deep. Your breaths come out short, mixed with strings of fuck - so deep - Robby. Your moans only seem to spur him on, as he answers with muttering short, moaned expletives and praise.
"You gonna let go for me?" He grunts once he feels you flutter around him. "Gonna come on my cock?"
You clench him tight, unrhythmically. It's a telltale sign, but rather than nod, you shake your head.
"N-not like- fuck- this, not u-usually. But- s'good," moans fragment the sentence, but you get it out in the end.
You sound on the verge of drunk, not entirely there, and there's a haze in your eyes as Robby turns his head to face you. You're so close he can taste the pleasure on your exhales.
"How?"
It takes you a second to catch up, staring at him with your mouth hanging open as he continues thrusting up into you, even if it's more a roll of his hips than snaps.
"Missionary."
Your world suddenly tilts, a swoosh in your ears followed by a dizzying sensation behind your eyes at the unanticipated shift from being on top to below.
You blink, regaining your orientation and focusing on how Robby is now above you.
"Robby, it felt good, I can-"
"Don't mind doing the work if it makes you cum," he cuts you off. "Want you to feel just as good as me."
"Yeah?" And the way you ask, small and vulnerable, makes Robby's chest tight with frustration.
"Fuck, of course," he bends down and plants a kiss on your lips, eager to reassure you. "This isn't only for me."
He seals his words, promise, with another press of his mouth over yours.
Partly reluctant and partly eager, Robby leans away, sitting on his haunches and watching you splayed out in front of him, his cock resting against your stomach.
He can't believe the people who rushed this. He could spend hours between your thighs. With you, like this, squirming beneath his attention with kiss-swollen lips and a heaving chest.
"Look at you," the way he says it, reverent almost, makes you swallow. That white, burning sensation isn't only simmering in your core as you wait for him to touch you. It licks your skin right along the trail of his eyes.
You watch as Robby takes his cock and slaps it against your pussy. The jolt makes you twitch, your fingers digging into his kneecaps as he repeats it.
The wet slaps of skin echo, soon joined with your whimpers as he every now and then swipes his cock across your folds, jerkily nudging your clit with his tip. He only stops for a second to tilt his head down and then…
"Oh my- fuck- shit, that's-" your ramble, mind shattering as he spits on your pussy.
It's one of the lewdest things you've witnessed in person. The second filthiest is the smug, pleasure-stained glance he does up at you as his jaw hangs slack, lips curled at the edges, moving his cock with wet squelches over your clit, mixing his saliva with your slick. You moan, throwing your head back dramatically.
You feel his body settle over yours, his hand beside your head while the other grips your cheeks, making your lips pucker. As your head is tilted forward, eyes snapping wide open, you find Robby hovering close to your face.
"I want your eyes on me," his voice is gravelly, serious, and not meant to be argued with. And you don't, only nodding. "Good."
When Robby slowly moves his hips this time around and grinds his cock through your wetness, you keep your eyes locked with his. It's intoxicating, having his brown eyes unwaveringly stare into yours as your breath mingles.
As his tip bumps your clit, you whimper, already teased and riled up enough by him that the sensation sips up your spine. His chest heaves at the sound, lips remaining parted. But that's nothing compared to the bone-deep sound he groans out when he angles his hips and slides into you again.
You don't know where to go. It is too fucking much.
You trash beneath Robby, back arching only to be stopped by his sturdy chest, the wiry hair sticking against your sweaty skin. One of your hands finds its way to his lower back. The other shoots to his wrist, the one he holds your face with.
But he doesn't let go, keeping your head locked forward as he simply lets your fingers curl around his limb.
He breathes a drawn-out fuck when he bottoms out. You moan at the feeling of him stretching you out, how his curls rub against your clit and the way his weight and warmth press into you.
It's so intimate, breathing your pleasures into each other's mouths, gazes locked as you feel the furrow between your brows, the same kind pulling his together.
"Keep them open," he orders when your eyelids flutter, attempting to escape his heavy stare.
"Robby-"
"On me," he jostle your head side to side, not mean or rough, just pointed, fondly mocking.
Even if you complained through a whine, you let him, Robby feels it. Your nails don't bite into the inside of his wrist to stop him. Despite not rocking his hips, the same kind of pleasure curls his toes when realising you simply let him do as he pleases.
And you listen, you listen so goddamn good as he watches you force your eyes to stay only partly lidded rather than fall shut entirely. Your battle against pleasure —that easy, mindless daze that was growing more tangible in your eyes— makes him chuckle.
The sound is laced with amusement and desire, noticeable in the roughness of his voice, which is gritty and low in his throat. Your eyes flutter, but you keep looking at him. Even as Robby starts rocking his hips slowly —letting you adjust to the feeling of him in this position, pulling out far enough you feel empty and push in just as slowly— your eyes stay connected with his.
It isn't you who breaks first.
You keep looking at Robby when his hips start rutting with enough force that your body rocks. Even as he punches a moan out of you upon each jolt of pleasure, your eyes stay connected with his.
No, it's Robby who folds first.
While you don't know it's because of you —how those pretty eyes of yours display every last drop of pleasure contorting your face and which spills into the air with your moans— he's the one to burrow his face into your neck. The hand that previously held your face also falls, taking yours with it as he pins it at the other side of your head.
His grunts only make you wetter, each slide of his cock now accompanied by wet, squelching sounds. When he picks up the pace a notch, your pussy welcomes him by sucking him back inside as if not realising he pulled out.
The snap of his hips fills the air with the sound of smacking skin. Your moans grow louder as Robby doesn't leave a single pleasurable zone untouched. Brushing against that pleasurable spot on each thrust inside. Stimulating your clit by grinding his hips enough to curve his spine. Only to pull out and do it all over again.
Your legs cage his body as you sloppily try to meet his thrusts. It feels so fucking good but it isn't enough for Robby. He wants- needs more of you, to be closer, deeper.
He lets go of your hand and moves the forearm he's braced himself on. All of a sudden, he leans his entire weight on you as his warm hands slide beneath your ass to raise it off the bed.
Your hands shoot to his back, clinging to him, nails dragging down his lats as the angle makes you take his thrusts deep and his chest press flush against yours, trapping his Mangen David between the valley of your breasts.
"Fuck me," Robby groans beside your face upon hearing the sweetest moan of the evening from you. Deep, warbled and pleasure-drunk.
It almost does too much to him, the coil far down in his stomach jerking, threatening to make his toes curl in more than restraint.
"You feel too fucking good, I'm-"
You feel him twitch, once, twice, erratically enough you know he isn't coming but that he's damn near close to finishing with how his thrusts grow desperate.
"Do what you need to come, sweetheart. Need you to- shit, show me what you like for next time," he orders abruptly, the words hurried. You follow them with a moan, hearing how equally drunk on the pleasure he is, wedging your hand between your bodies.
It is a mixture of sweat and slick that covers your hand once your fingers circle your clit.
It's so messy, the way you can't move much with how close Robby is and how you feel him fuck into you just beneath your fingertips. But it doesn't take much. The mixture of rapidly toying with your clit and Robby's grunting in your ears as he praises you with 'that's it, sweetheart' pushes you across the edge.
You jerk, moan ripping out of you as your thighs shake. You try but can barely elongate the pleasurable high form of how intense it is, hand falling slack and being trapped when Robby continues shoving himself into you with a strangled moan upon your tightness.
It's so much that you have to hold on to the fleshy juncture between his shoulder with your teeth as your eyes fall shut, forced to accept the feeling scorching your nervous system with pleasure.
Robby comes with a near-growling moan after you start twitching each time he bumps your clit and skims your sweet spot.
His teeth graze your neck in return as he freeze deep inside, back curled as if he wants to climb into you. Your orgasm has left a dazy cloud in your head, but you feel the steady jerks of Robby inside you as he spills into the condom.
Time becomes a foggy concept you don't care much about when Robby melts into you. You welcome his weight, mouth opening and releasing him from your mouth as you pant into the humid air, your neck relaxing backwards. He does the same but keeps his face buried against your throat.
You stretch your arm —that apparently had wrapped around him during your climax— before raising your hand to the back of his head. The slow carding of your fingers through his hair makes him inhale, only to exhale a sated groan.
Slowly, it seems like Robby comes to, his lips finding your skin to soothe where he'd held you betweeen his teeth to ground himself.
He leaves a trail of feather-light kisses from the curve of your shoulder to the hollow of your throat. Before he emerges, his mouth lingers against your necklace, the metal no longer cold but just as warm as your skin.
There's a serene kind of look in Robby's eyes once they connect with yours. His brown gaze is heavy even if he pushes himself to his knees, taking his weight off of you.
Despite twitching in overstimulation once he pulls out, you smile up at him. He reciprocates with a smile of his own, but one side of his mouth bows higher in a lopsided fashion, making you giggle.
That only makes his smile grow enough to flash teeth as he asks, "What's so funny?"
"Nothing", you mumble, following how easily he takes off and ties the condom. He watches you the entire time, humming a sceptical sound, but does not say anything else about it.
"That was-"
"Good," you finish his sentence for him. His hand dips into a nod, a chuckle preceding his 'yeah'.
He looks up at you through his brows before he raises his head to face you properly.
"Do you need anything?" Your head tilts, brows arching.
It makes his head cock, eyebrows also raise until the lines of his forehead appear. "Don't tell me-"
You hurry to sit up, your body feeling like it moves like molasses, interrupting him. "I'm just not used to it, Robby."
"Boys these days," he grumbles as your hands settle on his thighs, neck craning to keep your eyes locked with his.
"You did say you didn't want to hear about the miserable dating scene."
Although it makes him chuckle, it's biting, the sound low and frustrated more than amused as he shakes his head.
"Seriously, do you need anything?" His brown eyes are locked with yours again.
"A little bit of water, maybe," you shrug slightly but blink slowly up at him when you continue, "A cuddle?"
His lips tick upwards at that, bending down to press his lips against yours before he mumbles, "Wait here."
And you don't mind just flopping back on the bed as Robby leaves the bedroom.
You can hear him move around in the apartment. The sounds are dull, as if he tries to not make too much noise. Somewhere whilst listening to him, your eyes close, basking in the afterglow.
"Haven't fallen asleep on me, have you?"
Your eyes crack open, pleasantly surprised Robby still moves around naked and for you to witness him in all his glory. "Almost could've."
"And I'm supposed to be the old one," he sends you a smile as you chuckle.
Once Robby climbs onto the bed, he sets aside the water bottle he brought, shifting the grip on the towel you'd noticed he got in his opposite hand.
"What-oh." Your face feels like it's suddenly on fire as he slowly parts your legs, only to gently wipe away all the sticky wetness between them with the lukewarm cloth.
"You should still go to the toilet," Robby's voice is soft as he instructs you, eyes flickering to your face.
"I-I know," you stutter, watching him turn and toss the towel with ease into the hamper once he's done.
He's smiling once he turns back to face you, but he doesn't mention your flustered look, instead offering the water bottle.
"Here." He holds it out for you and you take it from him.
The condensation that previously coated his fingers now drips across yours as you prop yourself on an elbow to drink. Your eyes flutter as soon as the cold water soothes your mouth and throat. After a few gulps, you hand the water bottle back to Robby, who'd settled beside you.
Shifting to lay on your side, you watch Robby also take a few mouthfuls before stretching behind him to put the bottle on the bedside table.
A warm feeling blooms in your chest as he turns back to you and instantly draws you into him.
You seamlessly tangle with him, his legs intertwining with yours, your arms around his neck, and his circling beneath and over you to engulf your upper body in a tight hug. A sigh leaves you, and Robby exhales slowly once the two of you settle.
For a moment, you just lay there, eyes closed, face pressed into his skin that's slightly damp. Your heartbeat slows into a rhythmic pound as he soothes his thumb against your spine. It only stops once he presses a lingering kiss against your forehead.
"I'll melt through the bed if you continue with that," you sigh, looking up at him while he looks down.
"Thought I already had?" Even if you roll your eyes, you catch the pull in the side of his lips. "Not regretting saying yes to my invite yet?"
You hum, fingers carding through his beard, eyes flickering over him.
"Maybe I'm-" he interrupts you with a kiss, "-starting to," another one, "-just a little bit," your smile only grows between each kiss. You start giggling when his lips stray to your cheeks and nose, "Fine, no."
You playfully push at him to stop the way his beard tickles across your face.
"Good," he kisses you one last time before you burrow your face against his chest, trying to hide from his onslaught. But Robby only chuckles, notching his chin above your head.
"Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"
He doesn't see your face, but he feels your smile grow. "Should I clear my schedule to watch you cook breakfast for me?"
"You picked the perfect time when my fridge looks like a frat boy's"
"Mhm, yeah, sure," you retract from your hiding spot against his sternum to look at him. Robby is greeted with a smile that he can't help but return.
One of your arms drops from his neck so you can gently trace a finger across his face. It follows the arch of his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, the soft skin beside his eyes, and the line of his beard.
"There's a brunch spot not too far from here. I've heard it is good," you break the silence with a murmured suggestion.
Robby doesn't even need to consider it, kissing you before muttering an equally soft, "Perfect."
okay, i don’t read smut like ever, it’s just not my thing. but it unfolded so naturally here that i didn’t even consider not reading it??? it was sweet, a little funny at moments, and hot as fuck. 10/10 for sure.
synopsis. he walks you home, then lets himself in.
pairing. logan howlett x f!reader. tags. [18+] dubious consent, vaginal penetration, female receiving oral sex, spitting. honey don't feed it, it'll come back type beat.
Some deep part of Canada, where everything was white.
Snowstorms that swarmed through the sky, and the only warmth you could find came from the bottom of a bottle.
The wood floor of the sticky bar you worked in was soaked from frost covered boots – haphazardly scraped across the welcome mat, owners preoccupied with getting their first drink than keeping the place tidy.
You existed there, behind the bar that patrons lent against, like a metal cage with leering onlookers. They paid in drinks, but you took the money home as tips, your warmth stoked in a fireplace.
How you’d ended up there in that forgotten part of the world, you didn’t know.
Perhaps you’d followed a narrow path, one strung out with thorns and rubbish, but the money was okay.
When it got slow, and there wasn’t much else to do, your boss let you read a bit, too, while you sipped on your endless supply of Coca-Cola.
At the end of your shift, your teeth were fuzzy from all the sugar.
An easy existence, but some nights, the patrons got too friendly.
They were fresh off their trucks, looking for some place warm to bury for the night, but you weren’t offering.
So, you’d peer at them, watch them make a fool of themselves as they spewed putrid words in your general direction – alcohol and lack of sleep causing the floor to sway from beneath their feet.
It was always the new boys who would try it.
Risk it all for a chance between your thighs, unaware of the hound sitting at the end of the bar, nursing a whiskey and a vendetta.
The first time he fought for you, the air had changed. Gone cloudy with the chance of a brawl – that sixth sense that all bartenders have switching on.
“Lady said no, ain’t she?” he bellowed from across the bar.
The voice thick with smoke and alcohol, you recognised him as the guy who’d been drinking whiskey all night, but he was as sober as a nun. No stumble to his step, or slur to his cadence, either.
He was built like an oak tree. You noticed when you served him. Slid him his drink and gazed at the sheer bulk of him. At the weathered, handsome age to his face, to the spray of grey in his brown hair.
His thick arms were snugly buried under a button up shirt, and you didn’t see, but rather imagined, the way his muscular legs were stuffed into jeans, and the way his size 12’s rested against the hardwood.
His eyes though, were hiding something. Milky brown concealing his curiosity – easily done with the hard panes of his face.
You imagined letting him take you home, and you thought about being friendly, before a whisper in the back of your cranium told you to back off.
Perhaps safer.
You didn’t know where this man had come from, let alone where he’d been. So, you continued to serve him drinks, and tried to ignore the quiet hum of his presence, until the hum turned to a crash.
The patron was scorned. He paused, and turned to the end of the bar, where the brown eyed stranger was waiting. “What’s it to you?” he slurred.
But the man with the whiskey wasn’t looking to him. He sipped his drink, and said, “she said no. You don’t remember your manners?”
The bar adorned an eerie quiet. Nerves sat low in your belly, heart picking up speed.
“This guy serious?” he asked you.
You went to say something, but he was already throwing words at the stranger.
“She yours or something?”
“It matter?”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
The stranger scoffed, and brought his drink to his lips, “whatever bub.”
“We got a problem?” the man uttered, stalking towards him, but his friend took him by the arm and whispered something in his ear, forcing him to deflate.
You wondered what he’d uttered. Whether there were rumours about the guy – a reputation you didn’t know about.
Brown eyes didn’t bat an eye when the man and his buddy slid out the door, cold filling the room before the door slammed shut.
The bar exhaled.
People went back to their business, and you thought about it, you really did. Thought about leaving him alone. Going back to your measly existence. Your home – the pit for all of your things.
But it didn’t win over in the end.
You topped up his drink. He took it, and glanced at you, brown eyes ringed with mystery.
“That happen often?” he uttered, voice a gruff grunt.
You put the bottle down, and looked away, thinking back to last week when you nearly fought a guy for staring for too long. You glanced back to him.
“Sometimes.”
“Your boss is an asshole for letting you work here alone.”
“That so?” you laughed, shocked at his candour. He nodded and downed his drink, eyeing you from over the rim.
Finished, he put the glass down on the bar, and shrugged his jacket on. He got up to leave, and you felt a chasm begin to open up in your chest.
You went to say something. Anything, to make him stay. But he paused and looked over his shoulder.
His jaw was clenched when he tentatively offered, “be safe.”
When you locked up, he was waiting for you.
It didn’t scare you. Really, it should, but when you left the bar and saw him standing there, toking on a cigar in the cold, all it did was make you pause. He stood there, gazing at you, eyes clouded by smoke.
“You waiting for me?” you uttered, making it real, even if the light drift of snow was giving the world a dream like quality.
He shrugged. “Just waiting.”
You nodded, and put the bar keys in your bag, ignoring the chasm get wider. If he was going to rob the place, he’d have to get through layers of receipts and tissues to get in. But you knew the bar wasn’t what he was after.
Something about his posture, the luring look in his brown eyes — curious, like he was trying to figure something out.
You began to walk past him, but when he didn’t follow, you paused. You peered over your shoulder, and he was still looking at you.
Taking you in.
“Well,” you started, hitching your bag up your arm, “you gonna walk me home, or what?”
He followed you in comfortable silence.
Just you, the night, and the crunch of dirt under his boots. His cigar smoke drifted by, and it wafted through your subconscious, followed by pine, and crisp scent of the snow.
He sounded like the noise of the woods — ever present in these parts. A comfort, if one had adapted to its unpredictability. When you got to your familiar walkway, you opened the gate, but he didn’t follow you through.
Instead, he stood by the entrance, watching you unlock your door like he’d just dropped you off from a date.
it was when you were halfway through that he spoke up.
“You work every night?”
“Yeah,” you started quickly, looking to him. “Apart from Wednesday and Sunday.”
He considered you, then gave you a sharp nod, and turned to leave.
That’s how you ended up with a wolf at your door.
Every night, he was the last one left, then he silently walked you home.
Some nights, you’d find him leaning against the entrance, and he’d quietly peel away from the door and follow you. At first, he simply walked closely behind, a looming shadow, until he began walking beside you.
Then one night, you let him in.
Made him a cup of coffee to fight off all the liquor he consumed, and he sat at your kitchen table, and drank every drop.
Watched you in the low, fluorescent lighting, and you did the same. Curiously studied him. He looked different in your home. In your kitchen. Looked a little softer around the edges, even if he couldn’t relax completely.
It went like that for a while. It was on one of these nights that he gave you his name, followed by a shitty cup of coffee. Sometimes two.
Maybe a biscuit, or a piece of cake. Leftovers turned into home cooked meals. Sat at the kitchen table and watched him eat. Roast beef. Mashed potatoes. Lasagna.
Sipped at your cup of tea as he slopped up his pasta, using the back of his hand to wipe the sauce off his mouth.
You left him finishing off his plate to get ready for bed, and it was when you were sorting your hair out, that he came into your bedroom and began taking his boots off.
You stood at your mirror and watched him place them near your door.
Then he reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt.
One by one, you watched his thick fingers reach the bottom. He took it off, revealing a white tank off and broad chest, and hung the shirt up on your door frame.
Jeans next.
Popped the button and shucked them to his feet -- threw them with his boots and dragged himself towards your bed.
You went to say something. Anything.
But he looked so exhausted as he crashed onto your frilly bed, that all you could manage was, “You lock the door?”
Logan nodded. His eyes were already closed, and he was hugging the pillow when he uttered, “you coming to bed, or what?”
You let him stay the night.
Maybe it was raining, maybe he was too tired – it didn’t matter. All that mattered, was that he was warm, and sometimes, when you woke and felt the terrifying ache of being alive, he’d be there to quiet the pain.
Hush you with the soft swell of his lips and wandering hands.
You’d come with a hushed whisper, hot and sticky over his calloused fingers -- drowsy from how high he took you. Then he’d kiss you, fix your clothes, and go back to sleep.
Always the middle of the night. When it was dark and quiet out, and it felt as if you were the last people alive.
His skilled hands bringing you to the brink, a soft kiss, then back to bed.
You would wait for it. Watch him nurse his whiskey at the end of the bar, the night dragging with every drink you poured. Then, he watched you lock up.
Waited at the door for you, so you could walk home together, wordlessly taking the familiar trail.
He’d eat, you’d watch, then leave for your room.
Once, you woke to his head between your thighs. The night was quiet, room dark – slither of moonlight from your window cutting a line through your bodies.
You were slick with sweat, and as you flexed your taunt muscles, they fizzled and singed. Hot heat pushed low in your belly, rooted between your thighs.
Logan hummed, and you reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, whimpering his name to grab his attention.
He had palm fulls of you. Fists of your thighs, soft of your belly, leaving marks with his desire – desperation. The first thing he did was apologise. Muttered a hoarse, m’sorry, into your soaking cunt, but continued tasting you.
You used his hair as leverage, and hitched your hips up an inch, causing his nose to bump into your sensitive clit, and you hissed, as if in pain, but the sound trailed off into something similar to his name, and Logan grunted, moving your hips further up so he could twist a thick finger inside.
You took all he gave.
Moaned into the pillow beside you as you rocked your hips against his face, soaking his nose and mouth. Said shit you didn’t mean, but meant all the same, and Logan got off on it.
This mysterious man who had taken over your life, grunted your name like it belonged to him. Made you come on his thick beard and puffy lips, then made you taste yourself as he kissed you.
You hugged his sweat slick frame to you, fingers scratching his scalp, mindlessly grinding against his clothed cock. You were content to just kiss him, until he dragged his fingers between your thighs again.
You startled, gasping into his hot mouth, but Logan hummed, near smiling against your lips.
“’think there’s another in there for me,” he drawled.
When he fucked you, there was so much of him that you went blind with it. Eyes half lidded, delirious as he pushed inside, making himself fit. Stuffing you full, then pulling out, just to feel it all over again.
Again and again.
You moaned his name into his soaked, scarred chest. Felt yourself leave your body, so hot, so wet, that it was all sensation. Just the slap of his hips against yours, the feel of his hands on your tits, in your mouth, telling you to open wide.
He spat, and when he missed, he smeared the mess off of your chin and rubbed it into your cunt.
Made you come, then filled you with his own. Leant back, and watched it drip out of you. You were so consumed by him, that you didn’t have enough energy to feel self-conscious.
No, when he had his wild eyes on you, you reached between your thighs and stuffed it back inside.
The next evening, and he was back at the bar, waiting for you to bring him his whiskey. When you placed it in front of him, those wild eyes were on you again.
summary: the gold cloaks raid the brothel, you make a deal to secure your freedom
pairing: harwin strong x lyseni!reader x daemon targaryen
warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is briefly described as having lyseni features (pale hair, purple eyes) but no other physical descriptors are used, mentions of sex work, reader is a sex worker, breast/nipple play, dirty talk, double penetration, piv sex, anal sex, anal fingering, regular fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, double creampie oh jeez, oral (m receiving), handjobs, hands on necks, "whore" is used both as a pet name and degradingly we love innovation, big hulking men idk, let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 7.7k
a/n: so sorry for being away! wasn't intentional, just busy with life things! but god i missed writing and i'm so happy to finally have this one done! daddies galore!
likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!
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A barely concealed sigh of disgust leaves your lips, which remain pulled into a tight, docile smile as some lord, whose name you couldn’t be bothered to remember, finally finishes over your bare chest with a beastly grunt, his hips twitching as you stroke him through it.
Took his sweet time, you think as you rise to your feet and quickly grab one of the spare cloths stashed in the nearby vanity to wipe his spend from your chest. Depositing the cloth in a nearby basket, you take a moment to right your dress and run your fingers through your pale hair. Finally, you turn back around and eye the man still lying across the ornate chaise catching his breath.
You glance at his trousers, still haphazardly piled on the floor, before checking him once more, smirking when you see that his eyes are still closed. Carefully, you make your way over to his trousers and kneel once more as you grab for the heap of fabric; keeping your eyes on him, you swiftly rifle through the pockets and smile triumphantly as you pull a few coins from one – one golden dragon, three copper stars, and a half-penny.
Grinning, you toss the man’s trousers back onto the floor before quickly grabbing the small coin purse you keep tucked away beneath the chaise, way back toward the wall and covered by the ends of one of the red satin curtains that cover the windows of the brothel – the perfect hiding spot until you can move them to the more secure lock-box beneath your bed.
“Mmph,” the lord sighs, stirring finally just as you drop the last coin into your pouch. Shoving it back beneath the chaise, you quickly rise to your feet with a placid smile just as he finishes stretching.
“Some wine for you, my lord,” you smile, keeping your voice light and sweet in just the way the Madam likes as you offer him a goblet, “To replenish your strength.”
“Yes, yes,” the older man mumbles, paying you no mind as he busies himself with the buttons on his tunic, “Fetch me my trousers,” he commands, brushing you off with a wave of his hand.
“Of course, my lord,” you nod, teeth gritting as you set the goblet back down before grabbing his blasted trousers with an eye roll. He all but snatches them from you with a pompous little hum, not even looking in your direction. Once again behaving as the Madam demands, you merely stand by while he redresses, hands clasped demurely in front of you as you wait to be of service once again, or, hopefully, to kindly escort him to the door.
You don’t mind working in the brothel, not really, especially knowing that it could be much worse – you could’ve ended up as one of the many beggars that line the streets of Flea Bottom or, more dreadful still, stuck as a slave back home. It was luck, really, that brought you to the brothel in the first place, back when you were still stumbling half-blind with grief around the fish market by the docks only to be plucked up by chance by a few of the girls from the brothel. They’d brought you back here, promising that the Madam would take you in, that you’d earn great money with your exotic looks.
One of those things had been true – the Madam was very happy to take you in. Technically, you do also make great money… for the brothel; only a small percentage is ever paid back to the workers and, for your circumstances, that just won’t do. Which is precisely why you sometimes took a little tip for yourself, especially if your client for the evening was of higher status; it’s not as if they’d miss, or even notice, a few missing coins.
As far as you’re concerned, it’s a flawless system.
You’re brought out of your short reverie by another sigh from the lord as he polishes off the goblet of wine you’d offered some moments ago and once more, your lips quirk up into a pleasing smile, “Leaving so soon, my lord?”
“Mm,” he merely grumbles before flashing you a lecherous grin, his yellowed teeth making your stomach turn, “Worry not, girl, I’ll be back before the tournament’s over.”
“Wonderful,” you sigh, grimacing internally as you make a half-step toward the arched doorway, “I’ll see you out.” Blessedly, the lord makes no more of a fuss and lets you lead him to the entryway, sparing you one final nod before slipping down the dimly lit street.
You remain in the doorway for a moment more, arms crossed over your chest as you gaze outside, relishing the feel of the cool night air against your skin. After a moment, though, your eyes narrow when you realize the streets seem much quieter than usual. At this hour, there would normally be more people about – some returning from a long day of work, others already stumbling around drunk, but tonight there were only a few scattered people roaming about.
“Strange…,” you murmur to yourself, absentmindedly running a finger over the gold chain around your neck, your fingers brushing over the small key hanging from it. Sparing a glance up at the Dragonpit looming on the nearby hill, you finally close the door with a shrug. Returning to the room you’d serviced the lord in, you glance around quickly to make sure the coast is clear before you retrieve the small coin purse from beneath the chaise, smiling at the weight of it as you carry it swiftly back to your bed, to your little lockbox, wholly unaware of the envious gaze on your back.
“Commander on the floor!” One of the Gold Cloaks shouts as Daemon prowls into the hall, a self-righteous smirk on his lips as the drum of fists against chest plates ceases.
“When I took command of the Watch, you were stray mongrels,” he growls, dark violet eyes surveying the men around him, “Starving and undisciplined!”
He pauses for a second, heart pounding with the heady sensation of power as he prepares to do what his dear older brother cannot – punish. Too long have the streets of King’s Landing, of his city gone to the Seven Hells; controlled by crime and near-anarchy when they should be controlled by him, by the dread of his authority.
“Now, you’re a pack of hounds,” his voice rises as he speaks, as he breathes life into his men, “You’re sated and honed for the hunt!”
Howls erupt around the hall, making the prince’s lips stretch into a vicious grin – his men were ready, ready to rule with the iron fist Viserys lacked.
“My brother’s city has fallen into squalor!” He says, pacing down the room, “Crime of every breed has been allowed to thrive!”
His chainmail clinks with each of his heavy steps, pride swelling in his chest as many of the soldiers nod their heads along with him. It was true, after all, everyone knew it. Viserys may have the crown, the damned throne, but the dragonfire in his veins had run cold long ago. The blood in Daemon’s burns hot, however; centuries of power and glory fuel his fires, flowing through him like the lava in the Dragonmont.
“No longer,” he grunts, pausing at the end of the hall, the silken cloth draped over his shoulders shining in the light of the torches lining the room as he turns to eye his men, smirking at the blood lust evident on their faces, “Beginning tonight, King’s Landing will learn to fear the color gold!”
A loud bang wakes you sometime later and you sit up with a small gasp, clutching the linen bed sheets. Whipping your head around, you can see the dark night sky still looms heavily over the city through the slats in the window – you must’ve not been asleep very long.
Another cry from somewhere outside finally gets you moving and you quickly wrap yourself in an embroidered silk robe, tying it loosely around your waist as you move closer to the door, your ears perked at the sound of frantic whispers. Poking your head through the beaded curtain that separates the sleeping quarters from one of the hallways, you finally spot a familiar face in the dim candlelight.
“Genna!” You whisper, waving one of the other working girls over, “What’s going on, what’s happened?”
“Gold Cloaks!” She hisses, working quickly to stuff an armful of dresses into a small bag, “They’ve gone mad, they’re rounding up damn near everyone out there!”
“Gone mad?” You echo, brows pinching together as you look toward the entrance, another muffled cry from outside catching your attention, along with the sounds of metal clanging against metal.
Genna merely nods as she practically shoves past you to get into the room before quickly loading her bag with various perfumes, oils, and loose jewelry from one of the vanities, “One of the regulars came by, woke everyone up,” she explains as she quickly ties the bag off, “They’re taking in anyone who’s so much as nicked an apple from the market.”
Your eyes go wide at her words, head ringing as blood rushes to your cheeks. Thankfully, she seems too busy to notice you glance warily at your bed, knowing your lockbox with weeks worth of lifted coins is tucked neatly below it.
“I’m telling you, if you’ve pocketed even one extra groat, you’re as good as dead,” She shakes her head as she slings her bag over one shoulder, “Get out while you can, yeah? I think they’re a ways away st–”
A deafening crash from the front of the building cuts her off, the both of you shrieking. Your heart pounds in your chest at the sound of men’s voices; yours and Genna’s heads swivel to face one another at the same time before you both glance at the large wardrobe in the corner of the room – big enough for someone to climb inside of.
It seems you both have the same idea at the same time, each of you scrambling toward the cupboard. She’s a second behind you, though, her hefty bag slowing her by an instant and she yelps as you pull the wooden doors closed, pinching one of her fingers. You push yourself as far back in the cramped space as you can, trying to tuck yourself behind the hanging coats and dresses.
Finally, you stay as still as possible, chest heaving as your back presses into the wood behind you. You hear a muffled curse from Genna before she shrieks as heavy footsteps flood into the room.
“Shut it, whore!” A guard yells and the sound of a harsh slap makes you cover your mouth with a hand.
“Careful!” A different voice shouts as more heavy footsteps sound outside, “She’s a woman, not a shadowcat,” the new voice admonished, “Take her outside with the others, then go ahead and take the wagons to the dungeons below the Keep. No harm is to come to any of them, understood?”
“But the Commander sai–”
“I don’t give a shit what the Commander said,” the man all but growled, “I am your superior still, soldier, you take orders from me; I’ll worry about him. The night’s gotten out of hand as it is.”
“Yes, Captain,” the first man grumbles after a second. Heavy footsteps sound for an instant before Genna shrieks again, “I said shut it, whore!” The man’s voice is a bit muffled this time, further away.
“Tell the Commander I’m searching in here!” The second voice calls out gruffly; silently, you curse.
You hold yourself as still as possible as the muffled sounds of opening drawers and cabinets sound from outside the wardrobe, slowly but surely getting closer to you. Your heart leaps into your throat as the wardrobe doors are tugged open, yet you hold yourself still and squeeze your eyes closed, a naïve part of you hoping the soldier would just overlook you.
Of course that doesn’t happen.
“I do see you, you know,” the gruff voice sighs, his eyes on you, “Come on, out,” he commands.
Finally, you open your eyes and peek at him through gaps of fabric, warily taking in his appearance. Your eyes widen at his size, truly a mountain of a man, with curly dark hair and matching dark eyes, clad in metal plate armor with a familiar golden cloak around his shoulders. The look in his eyes is neutral, if not sympathetic, but you still don’t move, rooted to the spot.
With another sigh, he shakes his head at you and beckons you forward with a wave of his hand, “Please make this easy.”
When you still don’t move after a few more seconds, the man grumbles and reaches in, shoving past various articles of clothing until he grabs at your forearm and pulls you, stumbling, from the wardrobe.
“Let me go!” You cry, struggling in his grasp like a fish on a line, “Let me go, damn you! I haven’t done anything!” You shriek loudly, uselessly kicking your feet as he holds you steady at arms length.
“Easy!” The dark-haired man shouts over your screeches, “If you’ll just calm–”
“What’s this?” Another voice questions from the doorway, making both of you pause. Your eyes widen when you see the man, dressed in the same gold cloaked armor as the one holding you, though this one has purple eyes and pale white hair cascading over his shoulders, complete with a familiar face you’d seen before in the shadowy corners of the brothel, “Is that her?”
Her? You balk, glancing between the two men, They were looking for me?
The brunette stays silent for a moment, bushy brows furrowed together as he looks between you and the prince, brown eyes meeting two sets of purple, “She’s not… one of his, is she?” He asks quietly, only confusing you more.
Prince Daemon merely chuckles and shakes his head as he traipses toward you with a smirk. “Ohh, no, definitely not,” he mutters, squeezing your cheeks in one large, gloved hand as he forces your face to lift up toward his, “No, my dearest brother would never dare betray his wife so.”
He tilts your head from side to side, studying your face carefully, before making you face him once again as the other guard keeps hold of your arm, “What’s your name, girl?”
You glance between the men, caged in between their large frames, before finally telling them, each syllable merely a whisper on your lips.
The prince repeats it with a smug smile, the sound of your name on his tongue makes your head spin. “Ah, see, just as I thought,” he smirks, a pleased twinkle in his violet eyes, “A Lyseni whore.”
The other man merely grunts, though you don’t miss the way his dark brown eyes flit over your form appreciatively. Daemon moseys around the room, eyes scanning over the row of matching twin beds lined against one wall. “Which is yours?”
“I… I don’t sleep in here, my pr–”
“Lying won’t do you any good, you know,” he smirks, “We’ve had eyes and ears all over the city for months, including here. So, I’ll ask again. Which bed?”
You hesitate, only for a moment, before nodding at the bed to the far right. Your mind reels as Daemon begins his search, Someone was spying in here? One of the other girls?
“Aha!” He says after only a moment and your heart sinks as he pulls your small wooden lockbox out from its hiding spot. He drops it down onto your bed with a gloating smirk and you glance up just in time to see one of the prince’s pale hands reaching for the key at your neck, easily tugging it off the chain as you gasp and jerk once more in the other man’s grasp. “That was a gift from my father!”
“Daemon, please,” the other man sighs tiredly, scrambling to hold you in place once more, “Was that truly necessary?”
“Don’t start with me, Strong,” the prince huffs, moving to unlock the box, “You’ve spoiled my night of fun enough as is.” A low whistle sounds from his lips as he flips open the lid, quickly shuffling through the various coins, small pieces of jewelry, and other trinkets you’ve managed to swipe.
“Seems we got the right one after all,” the man holding your arm, the one apparently called Strong, murmurs, nodding toward you.
“Of course we got the right bloody one,” Daemon scoffs, violet eyes rolling in his head, “I only know of two Lyseni whores in this city and it certainly isn’t the other one.”
“Mysaria!” You whisper lowly, eyes widening as puzzle pieces begin clicking together in your mind.
The prince merely laughs, looking between you and the other knight as if you’ve just told some hilarious joke. “Finally figured it out, eh?” He teases, sauntering over to where you’re still being held.
As soon as he’s in reach, the guard holding you grabs your other arm as well, holding them both behind your back as if you’d be stupid enough to try anything against two Gold Cloaks. Even if you did manage to free yourself, what would be the point in running now?
“Seems we have a clever whore on our hands, Strong,” Daemon drawls, grinning when you flinch as he grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his once more, “And a pretty one too. You must earn enough to pay your keep, no? A little exotic flower like you is bound to get plucked at often enough.”
You wait for him to continue speaking but he doesn’t, he simply waits, eyes boring into you as if he’s trying to read your thoughts. For all you know, he can – you’ve heard whispers around King’s Landing of how the Targaryens were supposedly closer to Gods than men.
“I suppose so, my prince,” you all but squeak a moment later, unable to bear the intense silence any longer.
“Then tell me,” you gasp as he suddenly turns your head, directing your gaze toward the small wooden lockbox strewn open on your bed, “Why does a well paid whore need to steal? Hm?”
“I wasn’t stealing for me!” You blurt, chest heaving.
“Then why do it?” You startle slightly as the knight behind you speaks, his grip on your wrists loosening enough for you to relax some in his grasp. For someone so gruff and intimidating, there was a distinctive warmth to his voice – a soft, kind lilt.
With a sigh, you glance between the two men before speaking, “I send it back to my family, once every other moon or so.”
“You send money to your family,” Daemon echos, purple eyes narrowed suspiciously, “In Lys, I presume?”
You simply nod, your eyes downcast as the men share a look over your head.
“Why do you need to send them money?” The Strong guard asks as he releases your arms, brown eyes watching you closely.
“My father was a merchant,” you begin, nervously fiddling with the tie on your robe, “He would travel to Volantis a few times a year to buy the more exotic goods shipped in from cities further east, from the other side of Slaver’s Bay, to bring back to sell in Lys. He could get a better price for them at home, Westerosi ships rarely go any further than our ports and they were willing to pay more.”
“And then, one time he left for Volantis and… never came back,” you continue, your voice only a raspy whisper as the back of your throat tightens, “We received word some months later that there had been a slave rebellion in the city and that my father had been killed in it. So, now I send money back so that my mother and siblings are able to pay for our house, because in Lys, if you can no longer afford your land you –”
“You risk becoming a slave yourself,” the brunette knight finishes, sighing sympathetically when you nod.
“How very touching,” the prince mutters, though you can see pity clouding his eyes as well.
“Perhaps we should just let her go,” the Strong guard says after a moment, making you whip your head toward him in shock, “She isn’t a danger to anyone.”
“She may not be,” Daemon says, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “But a drunken, disgruntled lord who’s discovered his gold missing certainly is.”
The brown haired man hums thoughtfully at his reasoning and both of them eye you for a moment, silence falling over the room.
Shifting your weight from foot to foot, you silently reason that you have two options – convince them to free you or wind up in a cell beneath the Red Keep. Being locked away simply isn’t an option, not for you, as that would mean being unable to send money to your family and although petty theft doesn’t carry the penalty of death, you know that if anything were to happen to them, you’d wish it did.
Gathering your courage, you look between the two men, eyeing them up and down. “Perhaps,” you start, loosening the tie on your robe just enough to bare your cleavage just a bit more, “I could convince you that I’m worth much more as a free woman?”
“Little minx,” the prince rasps, stepping toward you and grasping at your jaw once more, “Maybe you’ll prove useful after all,” he says cryptically.
Before you have time to dwell on his words, he releases you and busies himself with quickly unbuckling his plate armor, letting the chest and torso pieces noisily clank on the floor as they fall against a pile of gold cloth.
You gasp as Daemon grabs you by the hips and pulls you to him, pressing himself against you tightly as his rough hands roam over your soft curves. You can’t help but giggle as an appreciative grunt leaves his lips, violet eyes darkening as they meet yours.
“Daemon,” the other guard starts with a sigh, hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
“Come, ser Strong,” the prince growls, hastily turning you to face the brown eyed man. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you look him up and down, the corners of your lips quirking up into a small smile when you see the flush on his cheeks, “It would be rude to turn down what our little mouse is so generously offering, hm?” The feel of Daemon’s hands on your body makes your eyes flutter closed for just a second, only to snap back open when he roughly grabs at your breasts just as his teeth press against the column of your throat, eliciting a soft cry from you.
“O-Oh!”
“See? Listen to that,” Daemon says, words muffled against your skin, “She likes it, don’t you?”
You quickly nod your head yes, head clouded by the feel of the prince’s length as it presses against the small of your back, hard enough to be felt through the trousers they wear under their armor. He chuckles as he suddenly cups your center, the silky fabric of your robe pressing against your already aching flesh, and nips at your neck once more before releasing you.
“Go,” he murmurs, giving you a gentle push toward the other knight, “Make the stubborn bore more comfortable.”
Biting your lip, you approach the man with a little grin. Standing before him, you move your hand to his shoulder, to the buckles of his plate armor.
“Is this okay?”
All he gives you is a curt nod, but it’s enough for you. With another reassuring smile, you pull at the leather buckles, unstrapping them one by one until he grabs at his chest plate and sets it on the floor, more gentle with it than Daemon had been.
Pausing for a second, you cock your head to the side curiously. “I know him,” you say with a nearly bashful smile, nodding your head at the prince, “But what do I call you, Ser?”
“Harwin, my lady. Just Harwin.”
Still sensing hesitance from him, you decide to be bold and gently take one of his hands and place it on one of your breasts, peering up into his deep brown eyes all the while. Your lips turn up into a pleased smile at the low groan that rumbles from his chest and you marvel at how warm his touch is through your robe, though before you have time to linger on it further, Harwin surges forward and presses his lips against yours.
You still for a second, not having expected such boldness from a man who had held so much back thus far. Getting your wits about you, you quickly respond in kind and move your lips with his, leaning into him a bit more as you grab at his shoulders. A pleased hum leaves your lips as his hands begin exploring you, seeming to grab and knead at any bits of you he can like he’s been starved for touch for years.
He groans into the kiss once more when you nip at his bottom lip, prompting him to slip his tongue into your mouth, which earns a small whimper from you as one of your hands slips down from his shoulder to rest on his toned, muscular chest.
The sudden feel of another presence at your back makes you jump slightly – you’d gotten so wrapped up in Harwin that you’d nearly forgotten that Daemon was still in the room, though the knowledge that he’d been watching the two of you sends an excited zing up your spine.
“Oh!” You gasp as he begins nipping and biting at your neck once more, soothing the marks he leaves behind with his tongue. Your lips move against Harwin’s as another pair of hands begins exploring you, impatiently tugging at the tie around your waist until your robe falls open. A whine leaves you as the knight’s hands immediately cup your bare breasts, kneading them and savoring the way your soft skin feels against his palms. At the same time, Daemon nearly growls as he presses himself against your ass, grinding his length against you as his hands grip at your hips and waist.
“I believe you said something about convincing us?” He mutters against your neck, grinning when you pull away from Harwin and meet his gaze as you turn to look over your shoulder, brow raising when you see he’d taken the time to strip off his tunic at some point.
“Quite right, my prince,” you grin, looking between the two men once more before slipping off your robe, leaving you bare as it pools on the floor. Your cheeks flush at their appreciative groans, skin prickling at the way you can practically feel their eyes on you.
With another little breath, you lower yourself to your knees between them and immediately skim your hands over their strong thighs. Ever eager, Daemon quickly unties his trousers, a predatory gleam in his purple eyes as he frees his hardening length.
You bite your bottom lip at the sight of it and quickly reach up to wrap a hand around it, marveling at the way it hardens steadily under your touch. “I think you’ll find I can be very persuasive,” you murmur, softly licking over the tip before sealing your lips around it and suckling gently while you gaze up at him, batting your lashes enticingly.
“Fuck,” he breathes, long fingers threading into your hair as his head tips back. You grin around him, bobbing your head while you stroke over the rest of his length with a hand, laving your tongue over the head.
Not forgetting about Harwin, you shift your gaze to him as your other hand palms his length where it presses against the rough fabric of his trousers, already hard and wanting. That seems to be the final straw for him and he scrambles to undo the ties, brown eyes glued to where your lips are wrapped around the prince’s hard cock.
Your eyes widen when his length finally springs free and you let Daemon slip from your lips as your mouth falls open. “Seven Hells,” you murmur, watching as Harwin strokes a hand over his cock, a proud smirk on his lips.
“Well now, that must be where your damn stubborn attitude comes from, Strong,” the prince teases, chest heaving as you continue stroking a hand over his length.
Unable to resist, you brush the knight’s hand away before grasping his cock in your own, heart skipping a beat as your fingers hardly touch around the girth of it. You lean over and lick up the length of him, from the base to the very tip, before taking him into your mouth, bobbing your head in the same way you did with Daemon.
It takes a few moments, but eventually you settle into a good rhythm – stroking one man’s member with your hand while you suck and lick at the others, swapping every few moments or when one of them gets impatient enough to tug you over by the hair.
It’s easy to lose yourself in the cacophonous sounds of grunts and growls above you, at the way each man’s fingers thread into your hair differently. Daemon’s grip is much rougher, more commanding, as he drags you exactly where he wants, pushing and pulling your head along his cock in an exacting rhythm.
Harwin, on the other hand, is more gentle — his tugs seeming more like suggestions than commands. Unlike the prince, he strokes over your hair gently as you attend to him, letting you set your own pace. Anytime your eyes meet his, he looks at you with awe almost, hairy chest heaving as his hips twitch, holding himself back from fucking your face in the way he wants.
Daemon has no such qualms, hasn’t the patience to resist tugging at your hair as he presses your mouth lower and lower down his cock, relishing the way you choke and sputter. His violet, half-lidded gaze sends shivers through you each time your eyes meet, the look in his eyes echoing the fierce dragon’s blood flowing in his veins.
Surprisingly, it’s Harwin that breaks first, tossing back his head with a low groan after some minutes and pulling you off of his cock.
“What—?” You scarcely get the word out before his lips are on yours once again, tongue licking into your mouth.
“Need you,” he mumbles simply, glaring as Daemon snickers behind your back. “Please,” he breathes, voice softer this time.
“You needn’t ask,” Daemon drawls, pressing himself against your side as his hands paw at your breasts, pinching and pulling at your nipples and chuckling at the way you whine, “She’s a whore.”
You roll your eyes playfully at the remark and grab Harwin’s hand, leading him toward one of the bigger rooms of the brothel. “That may be true, but perhaps I like a man with some decorum, my prince,” you call over your shoulder, chuckling as Daemon follows hot on your heels.
You lead the men to one of the fancier rooms, one laden with imported ornate rugs and silken lamps that give it a warm red glow, complete with a giant circular daybed with plenty of room for all three of you. After all, if the brothel is empty, why not take advantage of it?
Putting on your very best show, you push at Harwin’s hairy chest until he sits back on the edge of the bed before walking over to him with a sly smirk, hips swaying enticingly. A chuckle leaves your lips when his eyes widen as you climb on his lap, your thighs bracketing his.
“Is this ok –” His lips are on yours before you can finish the question; the both of you move a bit more desperately now, though his touches are no less attentive as his hands skim over your waist and up your back.
Suddenly, you’re tugged away from Harwin’s lips with a little gasp as one of Daemon’s hands laces through the hair at the crown of your head, drawing you back until your spine is arched.
“Forgetting someone?” He teases, lightly wrapping his other hand around your neck in a way that sends pleasant tingles down to your already aching center. You shake your head no, teeth biting into your bottom lip as Harwin’s cock twitches between your legs.
“Never, my prince,” you murmur, smiling into the kiss as Daemon presses his lips against yours. His movements are more urgent than Harwin’s and it soon dissolves into a battle of teeth and tongues; you mewl into his mouth when the hand around your neck slides down your chest and palms eagerly at one of your breasts.
Though they’re closed, your eyes roll back as Harwin leans forward and begins mouthing at the side of your neck, his wavy hair tickling your shoulder. Soon enough, both men are pawing greedily at your chest, making your head spin – both of their touches are so different: where Daemon is rough, pinching at your nipple until you gasp and whine into his kiss, Harwin is gentle and uses his thumb to tease at the other until he feels you shivering on his lap.
The knight surprises you once more when his touch skirts down over your stomach before his fingers run through your folds, making you jerk from Daemon’s grasp with a moan. Your cheeks flush slightly at the sight of the little victorious grin on Harwin’s face as he expertly circles your pearl, watching closely at the way his touch makes you squirm and grind down against his hard length.
“That’s it,” he husks, grunting as your grasp tightens on his shoulders, nails digging into his lightly tanned skin, “Need to warm you up, don’t I?”
Beside you, Daemon scoffs as he stands straight once more, fingers still threaded through your hair. “Please,” he huffs, sliding closer to where you sit on the knight’s lap, until his length is practically brushing against your cheek, “Whores don’t need warming, Strong. You may as well take her.”
Before you have time to so much as register the jab, Harwin slips a thick finger inside you in the same instance that Daemon manhandles his cock into your waiting mouth, muffling your whimpers. Both men growl as they take you, the knight’s finger fucking easily into your wet channel as the prince’s length slides against your tongue once more.
You can hardly do more than ragdoll in their grasp, mewling while Harwin fingers you open, adding a second digit after a moment and crooking them in a way that makes your hips rut eagerly into his touch while Daemon takes from you as he pleases, fucking into your throat with loud growls and grunts.
Below you, Harwin groans as he easily presses a third finger into your heat, watching you carefully as he does and smirking when you show no signs of discomfort. “Think you’re ready for me,” he murmurs, chuckling when you nod your head as best as you can. As desperate as you are to be filled properly, you can’t help but let out a little petulant whine as he pulls his fingers from you.
“Patience,” he grunts, shifting you on his lap enough to reach between your bodies and fist his length, grinning at the way you squirm eagerly as he runs the head through your slick folds. His chest reverberates under your palms when he growls as he finally grabs at your hips and pulls you down steadily over his thick cock, half-lidded eyes staring down at where you both connect, “Fuck, there you go.”
You pull away from Daemon with a loud gasp, sucking in a lungful of air, chest heaving as your walls pulse around the knight, savoring the way his stretches you open. “Gods!” You cry, wriggling in his hold as you grind against him, your hips moving of their own accord.
Daemon huffs, annoyed, and tries dragging you back onto his cock a few times to no avail, quickly becoming irritated at the way you mindlessly clench your jaw closed each time Harwin’s cock presses against the sensitive spot within you.
“Poor little whore,” the prince sighs exasperatedly, once again tugging your head back until your eyes meet his, “Too distracted, hm?”
You open your lips to reply, only to gasp dazedly as Harwin thrusts up into you from below, muscular thighs flexing under your own. “Give her a moment,” he grunts, gripping your hips to guide you over his length.
The prince merely tsks, pulling at your hair again until your eyes pop open; a shiver goes through you at the smirk that graces his lips, as if he knows something you don’t. “Tell me,” he starts, carding his long fingers through your hair, “Have you ever taken two cocks at once?”
“N – fuck!” You gasp, eyes rolling back briefly as Harwin ruts up into you quickly, evidently excited by the idea, “N-No.”
“Hmm,” Daemon hums, smirk only widening, “Then I know just the way to get your attention.”
He moves away from you quickly, letting your head flop back uselessly as he walks swiftly to a small cabinet in the corner of the room where the Madam keeps a small stock of massage oils and lotions. You straighten just in time to watch as he stalks back over to you and Harwin, a vial of oil in hand. “I trust you have at least some experience with this, yes?” He questions, letting out a pleased hum when you nod.
The two men share a look between them and you mewl as Harwin lays back against the day bed, pulling you with him until you’re lying against his chest, making you gasp as the change in angle presses his length squarely against the most sensitive spot within you.
“Hold her steady,” Daemon murmurs behind you, uncorking the little bottle of oil.
The knight grunts when you tighten around him and one of his hands abandons its hold on your hip to cup one of your cheeks, his touch surprisingly delicate for a man of his stature. “Excited?” He questions, brown eyes studying your face carefully.
Any reply dies on your lips in lieu of an eager gasp when you feel the prince’s presence behind you, his hips nearly touching your rear as he slots himself between Harwin’s legs. Still, you nod your head earnestly, sending pearlescent hair cascading over your shoulders to pool on the knight’s chest.
Harwin’s chest rumbles with a satisfied hum, though you’re left gasping at the feel of one of Daemon’s hands deftly parting your arse cheeks, swiftly followed by massage oil being drizzled between them, filling the room with the scent of lavender. When you jolt slightly at the feel of a finger skirting over your entrance, the prince is quick to reprimand you with a sharp slap to the rear, leaving your skin tingling in its wake.
“You’re going to be good for us?” Harwin questions, drawing your attention back to him as he smooths a thumb over your cheekbone.
“Y-Yes, yes,” you nod listlessly, breaths staggered as Daemon fingers you open, expertly preparing you. Again, you earn a pleased hum from the man below you.
The next few moments pass in a blur – your head spins as the prince readies you and Harwin placates you all the while with gentle caresses and kisses, even snaking a hand between your bodies to rub at your aching pearl.
Finally, Daemon seems satisfied and pulls his fingers from you before slotting himself against you, quickly slicking up his cock with more of the oil before pressing the head against your opening, grinning smugly when you press back against him.
“Fuck, there we go,” he rasps, carefully sliding his length into you until his hips meet your backside.
A high, whining keen is pulled from your lungs at the stretch, tingles shooting up your spine and making you shudder at the feel of being this filled. You can do little more but gasp, pinned between two muscular bodies, as the men start to move. The feel of it is like none other, a constant push and pull as they thrust in and out of you in tandem.
“G-Gods, fuck!” You finally cry, managing to suck in a lungful of air as your nails dig into Harwin’s chest.
The knight beneath you isn’t faring much better than you are, a near constant stream of deep grunts and groans leaving his lips as he feels you tighten on his cock. “By the Seven, you feel divine,” he mumbles, making you cry out as he pulls you to him, strong hands encircling your waist as he mouths at your shoulder, biting at your skin.
Above you, Daemon’s violet eyes remain fixed on your ass, savoring the way it bounces each time his hips smack against it, watching as his length spears into you again and again. “What a good little whore,” he grunts, words short and clipped as he clenches his jaw. A stuttered moan is pulled from you as he grabs at your backside, fingers do doubt leaving bruises in their wake as he gropes you, “Taking us so well.”
Your muscles tense at the praise as your high threatens to overwhelm you, looming in a small pit in your belly that’s growing bigger and bigger with each passing second. Your walls tighten around Harwin again, making him hiss beneath you.
“Gonna, Gods, I –” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as the knight bullies the sensitive spot within you, pounding against it with each rough thrust, making your words die on your tongue.
Thankfully, Harwin understands perfectly, balancing on that thin precipice himself – the cacophonous litany of your moans and whines along with the lewd, wet sounds of their cocks plunging into you again and again only serving to push him further to his own end.
“That’s it,” the knight rasps, grabbing your chin with one hand and directing your attention toward him once more, “Go on, peak, let me feel it.”
His command, along with another hard smack to your rear from Daemon, send you hurtling over the edge with a sharp, loud cry. You lose all sense between them, muscles clenching and relaxing rhythmically as your whole body seems to erupt into flame.
The gorgeous look on your face, along with the steady pulse of your walls around him, finish Harwin as well. A deep groan, complementary to your own high-pitched whines, is all but punched from his chest as his length twitches within you, painting your walls with his spend.
As your peak slowly settles, like waves receding at low tide, you’re left gasping, clinging to Harwin as Daemon still thrusts wildly into you, chasing his own high. Desperate to feel you clench around him once more, the prince reaches around, over your hip, and his greedy fingers quickly find your bud.
“Oh!” You gasp, squirming in the knight’s grasp as the prince’s fingers roughly rub against your pearl, forcibly dragging you right back to the edge you’d just fallen from.
“Come on,” Daemon grunts, tugging you up by the shoulder until your back presses against his chest, deep, vicious grunts filling your ear, “One more, little whore, fucking do it for me.”
You scramble in his hold, lips parting in a silent cry as your muscles jerk in sharp, uncoordinated movements. Unable to extract yourself from his hold, the overstimulation finally gives way to blinding pleasure once more and you peak with a loud, piercing yelp.
Daemon grunts behind you, pleased, as your walls all but force a high from him as well. He thrusts into you a few more times, groaning at the feel of your slick coating his fingers and pooling between your bodies. Finally, he lets go, grumbling low words in a language you don’t understand as he fills you.
The only sounds in the near empty brothel is the sound of staggered pants as the three of you catch your breaths, content to do little more than lie in a heap for a few moments.
It’s Daemon that moves first, pulling himself from you with a muted grunt before swaggering over to a small vanity, pulling up and tying his trousers as he goes.
Harwin soothes you with gentle touches as he pulls away, keenly aware of the way you wince at certain movements, overly sensitive now. “Are you okay?” He asks, voice gentler now as he surveys your body, “Nothing hurts?”
You can’t help but chuckle at his concern, so unused to men caring for you once they finish. “I’m fine, I assure you,” your lips quirk into a smile as you soothe his worries, a little sigh leaving your lips as you settle back against the silken sheets that cover the daybed.
“Here,” Daemon grunts with indifference as he tosses a clean cloth at you, more than familiar with the layout of the place, “To clean yourself.”
You huff softly and roll your eyes playfully before grabbing the small towel and standing to wipe spend and extra oil from your skin, making a mental note to heat water for a proper bath as soon as the men leave.
It’s then that it occurs to you that they may not let you stay, what if even this wasn’t enough to secure your freedom, to get them to overlook your transgressions?
“So,” you start, discarding the cloth in a laundry basket by the vanity before turning and facing the men, surprised to find Harwin’s eyes already on you, “Forgive and forget, yes? The debt has been paid, etcetera?”
They share a look as they dress themselves, Daemon loosely pulling on his armor, opting to tuck most of it beneath an arm, though Harwin takes the time to fasten his properly.
“Oh, I think you’ve more than convinced us to spare you, little minx,” the prince drawls, eyes roving over your still nude form as he approaches you and takes your chin between two long fingers, “As for your debt, well…”
You grin as he trails off, two pairs of purple eyes sliding over to Harwin.
“There’s still the interest to consider,” he murmurs with a little chuckle, dark eyes sparkling with mirth.
thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)
Period sex with Din, he’s so attentive and I know the second he finds out orgasms can help with cramps he’s relentless in his pursuit of helping you. Maybe even promising to get you pregnant for a reprieve after a particularly rough one 😵💫
OH MY GOD
he’s just on top of you, being so gentle but it’s so desperate because you’re so wet and warm, and he pushes down on the bottom of your belly, causing you to whimper out in sweet relief. his mouth comes up to your ear and it’s all, “put a baby in you to stop it for a while, huh? you want that sweetheart?”
and he’s so sweet about it that yeah, you do, but you’re not in the right headspace, so all you do is whine his name, clutching him into you.
“you don’t want my babies baby?” he breathes, tone tinged with humour. you’re whining back at him, “ask me when i’m not seeing—seeing stars.”
“‘ not, not seeing stars baby,” and he takes your chin and leans back, looking down at you with these wild and brilliant eyes as he says, “you’re seeing me.”
synopsis. Abby’s generous with her love. She gives, and seldom takes. It’s why she takes her time with you. Why she slowly works you over, dragging you to your eventual release as if she has all the time in the world. Though this time, it’s taking far too long.
an. based off of this request. pls like, reblog and comment. i appreciate it endlessly<3
warnings. 18+. minors dni with this fic & my blog. abby manhandles you (hand on jaw – not choking), references to anxiety and stress, crying, assplay?…assplay (blink and you’ll miss it) fingering…squirting…
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