｡𖦹°‧➵ After a long shift, all Robby wants is to get home and bury himself inside you. The only problem? He has to wait for his little blue pill to kick in first.
｡𖦹°‧➵tags/warnings: smut, minors DNI, Robby pops viagra, erectile dysfunction (duh), age gap, unprotected piv, sucking Robby’s limp dick, creampie, Robby has a big soft belly and reader loves it, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, hair pulling, neck grabbing/slight choking,
A/N: This is the result of this poll. Thanks to those who voted, I hope you enjoy it!
The hospital lights faded behind Robby as the automatic doors hissed shut at his back. It was past eight p.m., but the moment the night air brushed his face, the bone-deep tiredness drained away. He knew what was waiting for him at home, there was no space left for exhaustion.
He was fifty-four now. Too old for some people’s tastes, but still young to others. Caught somewhere in the middle where the body began keeping score of the accumulated stress, every skipped meal, every skipped gym session, and every cigarette smoked. And lately the score included the humiliating betrayal of his own dick.
He fished the small blue pill out of the zippered pocket inside his jacket as he walked the first block on his way home. The tablet dissolved on his tongue as he swallowed it dry, making him grimace at the aftertaste.
It started about a year ago. It had been just… gradual, first it was a night when the want was there, he was so pent-up, he’d waited all day long to finally bury himself inside you, but the response was sluggish, and for some reason he couldn’t keep his dick up no matter how much he wanted to. Then it was another night where it didn’t happen at all, he’d been incapable of getting an erection in the first place. He’d laughed it off the first few times, said he’d had a long shift, or was too tired, it happened to every man at least once in their lifetime. Except it kept happening, and the truth turned into something he couldn’t keep denying, he had erectile dysfunction. Suddenly he was one of those old men, the ones who needed pharmaceutical help to do what used to happen automatically.
And then there was you, full of that energy that came from not yet having your soul sanded down by the weight of the years. You fucked like you were still discovering how good it could feel, like every time was the first time and the last time all at once. You wanted him constantly, you climbed into his lap after a shower, sent him filthy voice notes at 3 p.m. while he was still at work, you waited up for him in nothing but one of his shirts, with your legs already parted like he’d be able to get hard and inside you the second he walked through the door.
He wanted to give that to you. Christ, he really wanted to. The drive was still there, so strong it was almost painful some nights. He’d be one his way home after a deadly shift, and his brain would flash to the way your thighs clamped around his head when you got close, to that little broken sound you always made when he hit that spot just right, and the way your cunt fluttered and gripped him like it was trying to keep him forever.
But none of that could get him hard, and it pissed him off. He was pissed with himself. With biology too. Pissed at the unfair arithmetic of it all, he was finally with someone who made him feel twenty-five again in every way except the one that mattered most, in bed. He was supposed to be the experienced one, the one who knew exactly how to unravel you until you were shaking and begging and cumming so hard you forgot your own name. Instead he was popping little blue pills and praying they kicked in before you started minding how long it took
He hated waiting. The worst part was the way you looked at him sometimes, not with disappointment, never that, but with patience. You were so sweet and understanding, and it was your infinite patience that somehow made it worse. He didn’t want patience, Robby wanted to pin you to the mattress and fuck you until the headboard dented the wall. He wanted to feel that raw and animal surge again without needing chemical backup, but it was impossible, his cock had stopped obeying him.
On every red light on the way home, he quickly pressed the heel of his palm against the front of his cargo pants, checking if his dick had decided to react already. But every time he did, he was still soft.
“Come on,” he muttered to his own traitorous body. “She’s waiting. She’s wet for you. She’s been thinking about this all night. Don’t fucking fail her.”
Once he finally made it to the house you both shared,the place was still dark except for the soft light coming from inside the bedroom. You’d left the bedroom door cracked, the way you always did when you were already in bed waiting for him.
He kicked off his sneakers and placed the jacket and badge on the hook. When he pushed the bedroom door, he found you propped against the headboard in nothing but one of his old faded t-shirts, with the hem riding high on your thighs. Your eyes found his immediately, sleepy, and yet so hungry for him. You didn’t say anything at first, just shifted, letting your legs fall open just enough that he could see you were already wet, the cotton crotch of your underwear dark where a patch of your slick arousal had formed, making the fabric cling to your drenched folds.
“Hi, you,” you whispered.
He didn’t answer with words. He crossed the room in three strides, hitting his knees on the mattress, reaching for you with his hands until he found your face. The kiss was messy and desperate from the start, clicking your teeth together from so much desire. You opened your mouth for him immediately, curling your tongue against his, sliding your hands under the scrub top to drag your nails lightly down his back, earning a from his mouth.
You broke the kiss just long enough to tug the top over his head, and he let you. You still remembered the first time you’d stripped him bare, how he’d hesitated, how embarrassed he’d sounded as he muttered an apology about not having enough time to hit the gym anymore. You’d turned that shame into an obsession for the silver-threaded hair across his chest, and for the way his once-flat stomach had softened into a warm and rounded swell that begged to be grabbed, kneaded, and kissed.
Your hands went to his chest first, sliding your palms through the coarse grey curls, finding a nipple and pinching it sharp enough to drag a moan from his throat. Then you went lower, gripping the meat of his sides, digging your thumbs into the plush give of his belly, stroking and squeezing the soft layer that jiggled faintly under your touch. You mapped every inch like you were claiming it.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” you breathed against his mouth. “Look at this gorgeous body… I’m so wet for you right now. I need your cock inside me, Michael. Please.”
He knew that tone, you were already desperate and he had to distract you before you got impatient for something he couldn’t give you quite yet.
Robby surged forward, latching his mouth onto your throat. He sucked hard, painting a dark bruise just below your jaw while he shoved your shirt up roughly, exposing your tits to the cool air. He closed one palm over your breast, squeezing it with force, his thumb found your nipple and rolled it mercilessly until you were arching your back off the bed and moaning his name in ragged gasps.
“Michael—”
He dipped his head, closing his mouth over one of your stiff peaks, swirling his tongue in circles around it, then flicking it fast against it, making you jolt. He sucked hard, pulling the nipple deep into the heat of his mouth. The suction sent sparks straight to your core, and you could feel yourself clenching around nothing.
Robby used his free hand to knead the other breast, digging into the soft flesh, using his thumb and forefinger to pinch the neglected nipple, tugging until it throbbed. Then he switched, abandoning one glistening and swollen peak with a lewd pop only to latch onto the other, sucking even harder this time, lashing his tongue relentlessly while his teeth grazed the bud just enough to make you cry out.
Robby was already hard enough in his mind, but the rest of him was lagging. You reached down between you, slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of his pants. His cock was still soft. Still heavy and thick, but soft. You traced your fingertips over the hot length of him, trying to coax him to get harder, and he let out a shaky breath against your collarbone.
You pulled back just enough to look at him. “When did you take it?”
“After shift,” he muttered. “Fifteen minutes ago. Maybe twenty.”
You whined needily and unashamed. “I want it now.”
He laughed tiredly. “Greedy girl. You know how this thing goes, gotta give it time to work.”
You pouted, acting a little bratty cause you knew how much it drove him crazy, keeping your hand wrapped around him, stroking his member slowly, sweeping your thumb over the head, the most sensitive part, on every upstroke. “Don’t wanna wait.”
“Too bad.” He said nipping your earlobe. “You’ll wait however long it takes.”
You loved Robby with an intensity that words could never fully capture. And the sex with him? It was better than anything you'd ever felt with anyone else. He was the only older man you’d ever been with, and the first time his cock refused to harden, the panic hit you. You blamed yourself instantly, maybe you weren't turning him on anymore, maybe your body wasn't enough, maybe you'd done something wrong in the heat of the moment.
But Robby had pulled you close, and reassured you that it wasn’t your fault. Then he gave you the unfiltered truth, the medical and biological explanation: As men get older, the arteries narrow, the inner lining of the blood vessels gets less responsive, and the production of nitric oxide, the very chemical that signals those vessels to relax and let blood rush in, drops. That means poorer vasodilation and slower blood flow to the penis. It takes longer to get hard, or it just... doesn't happen, no matter how badly he wanted it.
He’d promised you that his desire for you was still intact, he wanted you the same as the first day, even more than he’d ever wanted anyone else in his life. And you’d never once shamed him, never let the word “impotent” even brush your lips, never made him feel like less of a man. To you he was still your perfect Michael, the one who could wreck you pill or no pill.
If anything, knowing how badly he still craved you only made the want hotter. You wanted him more now, because you could see that frustrated, almost feral edge when he pinned you down, grinding against you, desperate to bury himself deep and fuck you into the mattress until you couldn’t think straight… but his cock stayed stubbornly soft, thick but not hard enough yet. That look on his face, the aching need mixed with irritation. didn’t make you pity him, it set you on fire. Your cunt clenched just watching him fight his own body for you, rolling his hips uselessly against you. You’d whisper filthy encouragements against his mouth “I love how hard you’re trying for me… how bad you want to split me open” just to feel him shudder.
You slid down the bed, pushing at his hips until he rolled onto his back. Your hands found the waistband of his cargo and underwear, and you pushed them down all at once. Robby lifted his hips a little to help you slide them off his body.
He was fully bare under you now, with his cock lying soft against his left thigh. You settled between his legs, tucking your knees under you, with your hair falling forward to curtain your face. He reached down, gathering it in one fist so he could watch what you were about to do.
You started with soft kisses, open-mouthed along the crease of his hip to the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, and then to the base of his member. He twitched just a little, but not enough. You dragged your tongue flat up the underside, tasting the salt and clean flavour of his skin.
His soft tummy tightened, and a curse slipped out his lips. “Fuck, baby…”
Even when he wasn’t hard yet, the warm slide of your mouth felt incredible against the sensitive skin of his cock. Every swirl of your tongue around the head or suck along the underside, sent jolts of pleasure straight up his spine. And the sight of you kneeling between his spread thighs, with your lips stretched around him, and your cheeks hollowing as you worked him was mentally arousing. His mind was flooded with images of finally getting rock-hard, flipping you over, and pounding into you until you screamed his name.
You took him into your mouth anyway, despite the softness. It was easy to fit all of him this way, and so you sucked gently, with your tongue cradling the head, letting him fill the wet heat of your mouth without any real pressure. It was more comfort than stimulation right now, and he kept his hand in your hair, not guiding you, just holding.
Minutes dragged by, and you took your time, alternating between lazy and wet sucks that pulled the soft length deeper into your mouth, and delicate kitten licks along the underside, tracing every vein with the flat of your tongue. You kissed lower, brushing the heavy sac before drawing one of his balls into your mouth with gentle suction. He shifted his hips restlessly, chasing the sensation, twitching his fingers against the sheets. He was still mostly soft gainst your tongue, pliant enough to mold around the curve of your mouth, but there was a change now, a subtle thickening at the base, a new heaviness settling in as blood began getting there. You felt it swell just a fraction against your palm when you cupped him, and then felt the head starting to nudge firmer against the roof of your mouth. Not hard yet, but waking up for you.
You pulled off with a wet sound, looking up at him through your lashes. “Getting there,” you murmured, stroking him with your fist. He was heavier in your hand already, and you noticed how the veins were beginning to stand out.
“Yeah?” His voice sounded wrecked. “Keep going.”
You did. You worked him with patient devotion, moving your mouth and hand in a slow rhythm. You focused on the head mostly, sealing your lips tight around it, sucking gently but insistently while your tongue swirled over the slit, coaxing out every bead of pre-cum and mixing it with your spit until the tip glistened. Your saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth, dripping in strings down the soft shaft, pooling at the base where it met his balls.
You slid down further, taking him deep in one easy glide, relaxing your throat to swallow around the length until your nose was brushing the hair at his groin. You held there for a heartbeat, humming so the vibration rippled through him, and then pulled back, letting your lips drag along every inch, leaving him soaked and twitching.
Every few minutes you paused to worship him properly, pressing kisses and nuzzling the flesh like it was your favorite thing in the world. You whispered dirty words right against his skin, “come on, baby, get hard for me… I can feel you starting to swell… fuck, I love how heavy you feel in my mouth already… just let it happen, I’ll wait as long as it takes to feel you stretch me open. Look at you… so pretty like this… just wait till you’re hard enough to fuck me stupid…”
He laughed breathlessly. “You’re gonna kill me.”
Another minute, or maybe two or three, and his thighs started to tense under your palms. You felt the slow swelling, the way he lengthened against your tongue, until the head nudged the back of your throat now when you took him deeper, making you gag a little.
“There it is,” you breathed, pulling off to watch. His cock stood proud now, flushed dark at the head, glossy with your spit and his pre-cum. Fully hard, finally.
Robby thumped his head back against the pillow. “Jesus fucking Christ. Took long enough.”
You grinned wickedly and triumphant, and gave the head one last kitten lick before crawling back up his body, until you were straddling his hips.
Once you did, Robby noticed immediately how wet you were. He slid his hands up your thighs, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of your panties. He dragged them down just enough to bare you, then cupped you with one broad palm, sliding his middle finger through your slit. You were dripping, it made his finger glided easily, collecting slick that stringed between your cunt and his hand when he pulled back to look.
“Fuck me,” he said half-laughing. “You’re a lake down here. Been this wet the whole time I was soft in your mouth?”
You rocked against his hand. “Mhm. Couldn’t help it. You taste good even when you’re not hard yet.”
He snorted, but his eyes were dark brown with hunger. “Filthy little thing.” He circled his finger over your clit once, making you jolt and whimper. “All that patience… sucking me off for twenty-five minutes straight just so you could get this messy for me.”
“I wanted to get you hard,” you breathed, grinding down harder, making the head of his cock, gloriously hard, nudge against your entrance. “Want to feel you inside me already.”
“Yeah?” He grabbed your hips, stilling you just enough to lift you up so he could line himself up properly. “Then prove it. Sit on it.”
You took hold of his shaft with one hand, letting it rest right in your entrance. You were soaked, slippery enough that the first press of his head against your cunt made you both moan.
Slowly, you sank down, taking him inch by inch. The blunt head breached you first, parting your slick walls with a burning stretch that made your breath hitch and your thighs tremble. You felt every ridge and every vein as he filled you deeper, making your cunt clench greedily around the gradual invasion until your ass finally pressed flush against his hips.
You were both shaking now, him from the grip of your pussy swallowing him whole, you from the overwhelming fullness that pressed right up against that deep spot inside. His hands clamped on your waist, digging into your flesh, holding you pinned and still for one long heartbeat.
You looked down and saw the almost pained, overwhelmed expression on his face. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” The words tore out of him. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. You gotta relax for me… please.”
He groaned it like a plea. Every time your walls gripped him too hard, the friction turned unbearable,and he needed a second to allow your body to adjust, otherwise the pleasure turned into pain for him. “Just… breathe, baby. Let me feel you open up around me. Fuck, you’re gonna kill me if you keep squeezing like that.”
After a couple of minutes, your cunt finally stretched around his unyielding length, and Robby exhaled a shaky breath. He gave a single nod of permission. “Go on, baby.”
Then you started to move, slow at first, with rolls of your hips that ground your clit against the hair at his base while his thick cock dragged along your inner walls. Every slow circle stretched you anew, the friction making obscene sounds that filled the room as your arousal coated him completely, dripping down his shaft and onto his balls. His head fell back against the pillow with a groan, and you leaned forward, planting your palms firmly on the soft expanse of his chest, feeling the thud of his heart under your fingers.
You snapped harder now, riding him with purpose, up until just the head stretched your entrance, then slamming back down to take him to the hilt again. Each downward grind made you flutter and spasm around him, as his hands slid up to grip your ass, digging his fingers in to help you fuck yourself onto him faster.
“Fuck! Michael… right there—”
He planted his feet flat on the mattress, with his knees bent and hips angled just right beneath you. The shift gave him leverage, and the next time you sank down, he thrust up hard to meet you halfway. The collision was brutal, his cock slamming deep and stretching you open all over again as your ass slapped against his hips.
He groaned. “That’s it—fuck, take it.”
Each upward snap of his hips met your downward grind, burying himself to the hilt every time. Sweat covered his skin under your palms, nd you watched his rounded belly flexing with every powerful drive. He wasn’t holding back anymore, he gave you hungry thrusts that claimed you from below. You cried out, digging your nails into his meaty soft pecs. He sit up suddenly, banding his arms around your back, crashing his mouth into yours as he fucked up into you with short but punishing strokes.
He watched you mesmerized, one hand palming your breast, the other staying clamped on your hip to guide your rhythm. “Look at you. Riding me like you’ve been starving for it. So wet I can hear it every time you take me.”
“Michael, please—!”
“Please what, baby? Please fuck you stupid? Please let you cum?”
“Yes! Fuck! Yes—”
You came suddenly, seizing as your walls spasmed around his cock, clenching in frantic pulses that milked him deep. A gush of slick poured out of you, soaking his shaft and coating his thighs and the sheets in a messy puddle. Robby didn’t stop, he kept thrusting up into you, grinding the base of his cock right against your swollen clit.
The friction was brutal now, and you whimpered pathetically, jerking your hips as you tried to squirm away, pushing weakly at his chest. “Robby—fuck, too much, I can’t—”
“Not done,” he growled against your lips. “Not even close.”
He flipped you without warning. One second you were on top, and the next your back hit the mattress. Robby hooked your legs over his shoulders, pressing your knees toward your chest. The new angle was brutal, and he bottomed out in one hard thrust, grinding his pubic bone against your clit.
Robby fucked you with long and punishing strokes, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, snapping his hips with the kind of force that made the headboard thud against the wall. You were loud, you just couldn’t help but moan his name, beg and babble nonsense as he railed you into the mattress.
“So fucking good,” he gritted out between thrusts. “Taking me so well. You were made for me… fuck—gripping me like you never want to let go.”
You felt your orgasm building faster than you could control, the pleasure coiling tighter in your core until it bordered on desperation. Your body moved on instinct, sliding one hand down between your thighs, finding your swollen clit and immediately circling it in little loops. The nub was slick, throbbing under your touch, each rub sending sparks straight up your body.
His eyes dropped to watch, locking on where your fingers worked yourself shamelessly. The sight snapped something in him, and the thrusts turned brutal. “Yeah, that’s it, rub that pretty little clit for me,” he growled. “Show me how bad you need to cum again.”
He angled his hips just right on the next upward, grinding the fat head against your g-spot. You sped up your fingertips on your clit, matching the rhythm of his grinds until you snapped.
You came violently, a cry toreing from your throat as you shook uncontrollably. Robby almost lost it right there when your cunt spasmed around him again. But he wasn’t done, he yanked out of you fast before he spilled. In one rough motion he flipped you onto your stomach, gripping your hips and hauling them up high so your knees dug into the mattress, with your ass arched in the air.
You pressed your face into the pillow, still dazed from the aftershocks, but he didn’t give you time to catch your breath, just lined himself up and slammed back in from behind in one single thrust, burying every inch to the hilt. The stretch was immediate, your walls being forced open wider in this new angle, his cock punching straight against your cervix.
Robby fisted a handful of your hair, yanking your head back to arch your spine into a perfect curve, until your tits were pressed to the sheets and your ass presented high. “Fuck—take it deeper, baby,” he growled.
The new position let him sink impossibly further, and the added stimulation of his balls slapping wetly against your clit on every drive made you whine his name loudly.
His rounded belly was pressed flush against the curve of your back, molding to your spine until the heat of his body surrounded you completely, cocooning you in his grounding weight that made you feel owned and claimed.
Robby wrapped his big hand around your throat, curling his fingers possessively around the column of your neck, pressing the thumb lightly against your racing pulse. He held you tight like that, arching you back further into him, keeping your body locked in place as he started pounding into you faster.
His stomach jiggled faintly with the impact, and guttural groans spilled from his throat right against your ear, “Fuck… feel that, baby? How deep I’m buried in this tight pussy? You’re taking every fucking inch.” His grip on your neck tightened just enough to make your head spin, holding you exactly where he wanted while he fucked you into the mattress with raw need.
“Cum again,” he ordered. “Cum on my cock one more time. Wanna feel you milk me.”
You had no choice but to obey him. The pleasure crested again, and you climaxed around him for the third time, squeezing him so tight it felt like you were trying to pull him apart. Your arms gave out beneath you, your elbows buckled as you collapsed forward onto your forearms, with your face mashed into the pillow and your ass still high and impaled.
Robby followed right after, his hips stuttered, the thrusts turning erratic until the moment where he buried himself to the hilt one last time, throbbing inside you and pulsing hard with every thick spurt. He came deep, flooding you with rope after rope of his sticky hot cum that filled you so full you could feel the excess leaking out around his shaft, dripping down your thighs and soaked the sheets beneath.
He stayed buried inside you, grinding through the aftershocks, milking every last drop while your cunt fluttered around him. He loosened his hand on your throat, sliding down to stroke your back in sweeps.
Robby pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “Think the wait was worth it?”
You laughed weakly, clenching around him just to make him hiss. “Ask me again when I can feel my legs.”
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! I’ve written this concept a few times for Joel before, and after getting some asks about it, I finally decided to write one for Robby too.
I’m actually really excited about it because erectile dysfunction is one of the hottest topics for me to explore in fics. I’m definitely not opposed to writing more Robby one-shots with this theme in the future if that’s something you’d like to see.
Gaz getting shot in the abdomen and theres no field medic out here, gaping wound and bullets flying past as you drag im behind a corner to price.
Grabbing all the gauze you carry on you and packing it into the wound, a knee firmly planted on kyles shoulder for when he struggles. But all he does is gasp and kick weakly, eyes wide and panting when a pathetic moan rips past his lips. You pause for only a second but that has kyle whining "no- dont stop- please please I need- keep going-" so you keep going, stuffing gauze past skin and into muscle. Bits of gore cling to your fingers as they retreat but all kyle is doing is moaning like a whore.
You tape him up as best you can, and shoot a shocked look over to price where hes covering fire. He only raises a brow, tells you "you should see him with a knife in him." Which...you decide not to think further on.
Maybe on the humvee back from a stressful mission, and soaps already undoing his zipper and grunting about some fuckin stress relief, and being the amazing teammate he is Kyle offers to suck you off.
Only he's doing exactly that. Licking and sucking at your tdick and refusing to even dip lower no matter how much you squirm. He looks up at you with slick all over his chin "Hm? What, I'm sucking you off, isn't that what you wanted? Huh? No, you don't have a pussy, don't be an idiot." He smiled cruelly when realization dawns on your face "real men don't need anything extra. If you want to get off just your dick should work, right?"
...you end up squirming and crying the entire ride back, just barely on the edge but 5 never quite enough. Even when everyone else got to cum you're left there sobbing, knowing you'll have to crawl pathetically to beg price for a proper orgasm.
After the incident with soap, dog of a man he is, no one hears the end of it. Already on the ride back soap is flushed and gushing about your healing to gaz. "No, im serious man, it was unlike anything ive ever felt. I felt like ah had been edging for months and finally got to sink into a warm cu-"
"Soap!" You hiss, turning to look at him "at least some sense of modesty? Please?" Ur not used to people so...openly discussing ur magic. Its not something you willfully practice on anyone.
Ofc soap only shuts up until the next week. He's whining to gaz this time abt not being able to get off, ur magic feeling so much better than his hand and toys. It gets so explicit that gaz is lowkey curious about what ur magic feels like if notoriously horny soap cant get off without it.
Gaz and Soap team up, deciding to go extra hard when you three all spar together. Gaz takes a punch he could have dodged to the face, and blood spurts everywhere but he just looks excited. You try to rush him to the med room, but narrow ur eyes at the smirk on soaps face.
....after some wheedling you agree. Gently cupping gazs face in ur palms, you let the magic flow out and his mind literally goes blank. Soap has half a mind to slap a palm over gazs mouth before he starts moaning in earnest, this is a public gym after all.
Anyways gaz is blissed out and whimpering by the end, not at all bothered by the sticky feeling of his cum in his boxers, breathing heavily from the sheer force of his orgasm.
ok so!! roryshutupchallengefailed this is 12k of reader being horny af over her step brother Gaz. i did a poll to see if you guys just wanted the porn here on tumblr or the whole fic and y'all said you wanted the whole fic, so here you go. if you are just interested in the horny stuff i've marked where the pwp truly starts with:
cw: parentification of a child, emotional abuse from a parent, neglect of a child, forced isolation (from mother on reader), angst, hurt/comfort, Dead Dove Do Not Eat, stepbrother/stepsister incest (they met as adults and never lived together as siblings), age difference (reader is 18-20, Gaz is mid late 20s), pervy behavior, pillow humping, reader is nowhere near as sneaky as she thinks she is, tiiiiiny bit of manipulative behavior, virgin kink/corruption kink (if you squint), dirty talk (like WOAH), bareback sex, rough sex
your mom had gotten remarried just after you turned eighteen. he was a good guy, and she was happy, so you were happy too. of course you were!
it just.
it was your eighteenth birthday. and your mum had promised you that since money had been tight last year (and the year before, and the year before, and and and) that she’d go all out for your eighteenth.
stupid of you to get your hopes up. it wasn’t like she did it on purpose, she wasn’t a cruel or malicious person, just…forgetful. busy, that was the word. she was a busy person, heavily involved in her work as a nurse, in caring for your elderly neighbors, in her volunteer work.
but you’d thought, maybe.
again, stupid.
you’d hardly even met her boyfriend, just the once at Christmas. he was polite, an accountant or something or other, who looked at your mum with adoration and wonder, who rushed to fulfill her every whim and desire. the wedding would be quick, with your mum pregnant, and any talk of you moving out was quickly met with betrayed expressions and heartbroken ‘but are you really going to just leave? when you know I’ll need your help? your father is going to be so busy at work, and I can’t take time off…’
so moving out was quietly and firmly crossed out too.
you’d learned a long time ago that fighting her when she’d made up her mind was an exercise in futility.
and you liked kids, you did.
it wouldn’t be so terrible to take care of your little sibling. really it wouldn't.
then two months before the wedding, you learned that your new stepfather had another child.
Kyle.
he came to stay with you, all three of you, to get to know his new family. he was older than you by several years, in the military.
you weren’t sure what you expected, but Kyle was…
more.
he was tall and handsome, laughed easily, he was warm and easy with affection, and he smiled like the sun.
“Hi.” he grinned, head tilted slightly to look you in the eye considering the height difference, his voice bright and warm and sweet, and your heart tripped over itself as you stared up at him. “Hear you’re my new little sister.”
something inside you twisted, sticky, like a thorn dripping with honey winding through your stomach. you managed a nod, trying to smile back at him, offering your hand. “And you’re my big brother?”
he laughed, the sound making your whole body tingle. and it only got worse when he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight.
you couldn’t breathe for a moment.
“Handshakes are for strangers, love. Hugs are for family, right?”
your hands were already white knuckled on the rough military canvas jacket he wore. you couldn’t catch your breath, your knees were shaking and you couldn’t understand why.
“Right,” you whispered, biting your tongue when his arms squeezed you tighter, lifting you off the ground, and with that one simple move completely wiping clean the anxieties in the back of your head that had cluttered there since the wedding had been announced, and he'd done it like it cost him nothing.
his voice was warm in your ear, radiating down your back and thawing the cold that never went away. “Glad to meet you, sweetheart.”
he smelled like the forest. like fresh air and sunshine and just a tinge of something darker, like maybe motor oil or something similar yet equally unfamiliar.
it made your head swim. you inexplicably wanted more. “G-glad to meet you too.”
when he put you back down on your feet you had to force yourself not to reach out to him again immediately.
don’t be greedy. you told yourself firmly. he’s just being polite. he’s just being kind.
you found yourself sticking close to him during the run up to the wedding.
or as close as you could with your mother needing help at any and all hours ensuring every detail down to the smallest level was attended to her liking.
you sat beside him at meals, during the evenings crowded in front of the telly as a family or playing board games around the table. he always had one broad muscular arm slung on the back of your chair, that forest and fresh air and sunshine scent surrounding you like a comforting blanket. and every time he’d duck his head, leaning in close, mouth hovering near your ear to whisper a joke or a question about the show or the game, you found yourself turning to him like a flower to the sun, your insides warming, face flushing. the hair on the back of your neck would raise and you’d hold your breath.
he was so kind, so patient with you. even when you’d fumble the plates and dishes as you washed up or when you brought them over to the table, even when you’d get distracted during a conversation and miss what you'd been asked, even when you’d mess up breakfast or forget something at home while you were out as a family.
all the usual things that made your mother frown and sigh and shake her head and wonder what they were going to do with you, Kyle just smiled at, kissed your forehead and told you not to worry. he’d help you clean up that spilled milk. he’d help you run back to the house for the checkbook you’d been responsible for bringing. he’d whisper to you what the answer to the question you’d been asked was. not to worry.
strangely, you sometimes got the feeling that as sweet as Kyle was with you, as open and warm as he was to you, it wasn’t like that between him and his own father, or even your mum.
sometimes you’d glance up from your plate at dinner, trying to take advantage of the fact that no one paid attention to you so you could sneak a glimpse at your new step brother. and there would be a strange…disconnect in Kyle’s face.
like, he’d be smiling and laughing with his father and your mum the same as always, but his eyes would be cold.
you almost got the feeling he didn’t like them very much. like maybe they’d done something he didn’t like.
it made your stomach hurt to see that expression. what if he looked at you like that? if he ever did, you knew you wouldn’t be able to stand it.
so you put all the effort you could, in between wedding prep and nursery preparation and your usual chores, into doing everything you could for him.
his laundry, making his coffee and his lunches complete with little notes decorated with your doodles and wishing him a good day when he went in to work on the military base nearby. once, you even buffed his shoes when you caught him frowning while your mum chided you for breaking a plate.
“Love.”
you startled, nearly dropping the boot you were hunched over, wrenching your body around to face him.
it was late. late enough you didn’t think he’d catch you. you’d only just started, barely the toe of one boot freshly polished from your position kneeling on the floor where he kept them.
he was bare chested, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway, low slung sweatpants looking soft and inviting.
a smile was tugging at his mouth. “Whatcha doin, sis?”
you paused.
the smile on his mouth faded as you felt your eyes sting. swallowing, you managed to force out quietly, “I just…I thought you might be mad at me.”
now he was frowning in earnest, warm brown eyes softer than his sweats. “Aw, love, why on earth would I ever be mad at you?”
you shrugged, ducking your head. you ignored the soft sound of him moving closer, but your breath caught when a warm, calloused hand gently cupped your jaw and lifted your face. he was so big from this angle, it made your stomach feel funny. made your breath thin. his touch just made it worse.
“Tell me, sis.” He smiled, sunshine warm. “C’mon, who can you talk to if not your big brother?”
“I dropped the plate,” you admitted quietly.
he stood there, waiting. “…and?”
your eyes stung sharper, and your voice caught. “You were frowning at me.”
a spasm of emotion flit over his face, too quick for your to catch and decipher. his jaw tensed, his handsome face going like stone for a second. “Fuck.”
he used his hand on your chin to draw you to your feet, his boot falling from your numb fingers, and then into another hug. it was such a stark relief, surrounded by his warmth and strength and skin (so much of it, burning hot and bare and pressed against your mouth and your nose so that you could almost taste it) that you burst into tears.
“Listen to me,” he said firmly, rocking you back and forth. “I’m your big brother now. You’re my sweet baby sister, and nothing you ever do could ever make me mad at you. Ok?”
you hesitated. was that how it worked?
his hand threaded through your hair, drawing your head back to meet his gaze. he looked like a Greek demigod like this, fierce and unquestionable. calm and in control. “Say you understand.”
“I understand,” you whispered, rewarded immediately by his smile, a kiss to your forehead.
“There we go then,” he said proudly, squeezing you tight. “Just do what I tell you to, and I’ll never be anything but proud and happy with you, sis. Sound good?”
you sniffled, clinging to him, head swimming. “Yeah,” you breathed.
for a long while he let you cling to him, gently rocking you back and forth, rubbing circles over your back. enough that you almost felt like you might fall asleep standing up. until -
he drew back suddenly, grinning. “Wait, wait right there, have something for you.”
he raced back down the hall, but where you expected that kind of speed coming from a man his size to be loud enough to rouse the whole house, he somehow managed to be entirely silent. you didn't even hear the creaky board int he hall when he must've rushed by it to get to his guest room. that must've been a military thing, right? to be able to run silently?
you were still blinking in confusion when he reappeared, grinning wide, holding something behind his broad back. you didn’t even have time to catalogue the scattered scars and tattoos in the warm glow of the lamplight before he was thrusting a box under your nose.
“Happy birthday, lovie.”
you stared down at the box. unmoving.
that was right. your birthday had been today. you’d forgotten.
and Kyle had gotten you a present. wrapped it, even, in expensive looking baby pink wrapping paper, tied with a crisp white bow.
your vision clouded, and your hands shook as you took it from him.
“Kyle…” you sniffed. “I don’t know what to say.”
he was smiling still, but there was a new tension in his shoulders. that pinch between his brows he got sometimes when he looked at your mum. “Haven’t even opened it yet, sweetheart. What if you hate it?”
you shook your head, unable to speak. what could you tell him? that it had been years since anyone had given you a birthday present?
you didn’t want to complain.
“Go on,” he encouraged sweetly. “Wanna see if I got it right.”
obediently, you carefully loosened the bow. removed the wrapping paper without ripping it, lifting the lid of the box to reveal a full, seventy two piece set of Copic markers you’d been staring at on your phone just a couple days ago before dinner.
he must’ve seen you looking at it, somehow. must’ve heard your mother mention your birthday, as you weren’t sure your step-father knew and you hadn’t told him. and he must’ve gotten online and ordered you a set of markers that cost almost six hundred American. they didn’t even ship to England anymore.
but he’d managed to get you a set, a full set, regardless. like it was easy. simple. a given.
Kyle had to rescue the box when your shaking hands made you fumble it. he set it aside, and let you throw yourself back into his arms, caught you easily, rocking you back and forth once more.
“So I did that good?” he chuckled as you cried silently into his neck.
he held you so easy, let you stay right there, selfishly, greedily soaking up his warmth. his kindness. hoping the scent of his skin rubbed off on you, and maybe you’d sleep soundly and well.
“Thank you,” you said thickly, voice still wet, once you’d gotten yourself under control.
he hummed, squeezing you tight, kissing your temple. “Least you deserve, love. Happy birthday.”
you’d happily have stayed there in his arms forever.
but when his broad hand rubbed down your back, something strange happened. you felt a pulse between your legs. that warmth you were hungrily soaking up from his body, his touch, seemed to follow that pulse, sinking low and swirling-
your eyes went wide, shock too acute as understanding dawned for you to even stiffen.
oh.
oh.
oh, god, no.
Kyle let you go, and you fussed with your hair, avoiding his eye, trying to act like you hadn’t just realized you were attracted to your step brother.
he was grinning at you. “Glad you liked your present, and I’m glad we cleared all that other stuff up now.”
you smiled, or tried, flustered and trying not to panic. this was bad. this was sick of you, wasn’t it?
Kyle cocked his head, looking at you, and for a moment you thought he could see right through you, could tell you’d wanted him to do more than just hug you. wanted him to let you cling to his naked chest while he, while he-
but he didn’t know. course he didn’t. if he had he wouldn’t have invited you to skip out on wedding planning the next day and go to lunch.
you accepted eagerly, because it was surely a bad idea, but. but you weren’t going to say anything. you wouldn’t do anything you shouldn’t. and maybe it would go away, and he’d never know.
and you just…you needed more of that warmth. that kindness. that acceptance.
he sent you to bed with a kiss to your forehead and a stern, sweet order to get some sleep.
you didn’t get much. tossing and turning as you worried about it in your head. it wasn’t that bad, you finally decided, clinging to hope. right? you weren’t blood related. and he’d never know.
what harm was there in a little crush?
_-_
he made a habit out of taking you to lunch, at least once a week or more when he could manage it while he was at home, and whenever the two of you weren't on one your brother/sister ‘dates’ (the use of that word made you throb, and you tried not to show how much you liked it) for one reason or another, the two of you were almost always talking either on facetime or texting or whatever the two of you could manage. even after the wedding was over and he was deployed again, when you expected him to quietly but surely drop out of your life, he didn't.
he stayed.
made a point of it, actually.
of course you couldn’t always reach him, for his safety and the security of his team and everything when they went on a communications blackout, but whenever he had a moment he was on the phone with you, asking about your day and what you were up to.
besides just calling and texting, you wrote him letters too. included drawings, colored of course by the marker set he'd so generously given you. mostly they were just silly doodles of your brand new half brother when he was born, the new family cat your mother had insisted on, the little garden of windowsill flowers she’d planted.
you never meant to tell him that you were the one who’s room the baby’s bassinet wound up in. that the kitten became your responsibility too when your mum went back to work. that you were the one watering and fertilizing and fussing over the finnicky flowers.
but he had this way of drawing things out of you, and when you told him you hated complaining, that you didn’t mind, he'd sounded so hurt.
“You’d really keep something as simple as what you got up to every day from your brother? C'mon, lovie, you know I just want to know what you're up to. I miss my little sister, is that so bad?”
so you gave up trying to protect him from your boring day to day life, though you were always always careful to downplay how much you did around the house. it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, at least just for now while your mum and stepfather got settled. and you knew you should be grateful to your mum and step father for housing you and feeding you and clothing you. you were grateful, you were, just…
at the same time you remembered that little flat a few streets down you’d been eyeing for months before graduation. the brochure of art classes and glossy flyers for art schools tucked away in your nightstand.
it was ungrateful of you to want to leave your mum to chase your own dreams when she’d given you nineteen years of life and care and love. right? that was what she kept saying, and she had to be right.
so you downplayed what you could, minimized what you told Kyle about those aspects of your life, even as they started to feel like they were pressing in around you on all sides when he asked you how you’d been and you lied to him.
nothing else was off limits to Kyle, though, and it was so nice to have someone you could tell absolutely everything to. someone who gushed with you about your dreams, who was interested in your opinions (art, literature, movies, music, hell even memes), someone who reassured you that you weren’t worthless, who worried over you.
and he did worry over you. he was such an overprotective brother, god, it should've been overbearing and annoying when he told you who you could and couldn’t hang out with, that you shouldn’t date anyone until he’d personally vetted them, basically forbid you from even looking at boys while he was away. and you tried to pretend that it was all annoying and ridiculous the way you should have felt, because you’d die of embarrassment if he ever found out that him acting like that always had you stuffing a hand between your thighs and rocking against your palm, your pillow, or worse, one of the stuffed bears he’d won you at a carnival he’d brought you to when he was home.
in your head, he was overprotective because he secretly wanted you back.
of course he didn’t, but god, the fantasy of it. and sometimes you’d playfully pretend that you’d met a boy when taking your half brother out for a stroll in his pram, and he’d get all grumpy and huffy and finally get fed up and use your first name instead of his usual endearments, the syllables a growl through the phone.
that was all it ever took to make you cum.
he seemed to take an issue with your clothes too, the old fashioned sod.
you’d included pictures of yourself in your letters when he whined about not getting any drawings of you, he had ones of everyone in the family, he wanted to keep you close too.
for a long time you’d been breathless with an idea, to send him a picture of you wearing nothing at all.
you didn’t of course. of course not. but.
well.
admittedly, the skirt you’d chosen to wear in the picture you sent was a little short. the shirt a little tight. you told yourself it wasn’t like you were doing anything inappropriate. he’d never know the difference, and it wasn’t something you wouldn’t wear in front of anyone else.
but he was grumpy and growly the next time you got him on the phone. told you flat out he didn’t want you dressing like that without him home to keep the wrong kind of man from looking at you.
“Kyle-"
“Don’t even start,” he warned. “Don’t ‘but Kyle’ me with that sweet and innocent little voice, you know I’m right. I’m just looking out for you, love. Don’t you want to let your big brother do his job?”
you sighed, pretending to be put out, even as you shuddered, your pillow stuffed between your shaking thighs. it took effort to keep your voice and breathing even as your hips bucked. “I guess. Just. Do you think I dress…”
the word died on your tongue. you couldn’t ask him that. what if he said yes?
“I think…” he said slowly, his voice a warm rumble. you imagined him lounging back on a narrow bed, frowning and wishing he were home. with you. “That I want my baby sister to be careful. That so wrong of a thing to want?”
“No,” you whispered. “I’m sorry Kyle. I won’t wear it again.”
“Good girl.”
you came.
so hard and sudden you couldn’t quite stifle the sound that came out of you in time. you froze, heart pounding.
but Kyle must not have heard. thank god.
he was smiling, you could hear it in his voice as he said, “Now tell me. Have you finally decided to go to art school?”
that was another way he looked out for you. Kyle was your biggest cheerleader about your art. he kept telling you that you should go to school, to take the leap and send your portfolio in as an application for the program you’d been eyeing for years.
and you wanted to, more than anything.
but every time you even tried to broach the subject with your mum she gave you that wounded look that always had you backing down immediately, or when you tried to push it further she snapped at you to stop being selfish, that you’d go after she got things settled at work, when your step father wasn’t as busy. when your little half brother was a little older.
and you wanted to believe her.
a few years ago you might have.
but it was getting hard to ignore that you were treated less and less like a daughter and more and more like a live in servant by your mother. maid, cook, nanny, now gardener.
your step father had maintained a large and deliberate distance from you that after the first months with Kyle also in the house, a distance you hadn’t tried to broach. frankly you didn’t have the time or energy to try and get to know your 'father' as your mum insisted on calling him, not when every ounce of energy and attention and happiness you had left at the end of a long week went to Kyle.
it went mostly to hiding the reality of your situation from Kyle when he wasn’t deployed, and was staying an hour away in London but still made the weekly (or really three times a week) trek out to the house you lived in with your mum, step father and half brother to take you out to lunch.
most weeks it was the only time you got a break, because it was strangely the one thing about you your step father seemed to have an interest in. the one thing he put his proverbial foot down with your mother about, insisting that no matter what, when Kyle came to see you, you were to see him, unbothered and unharassed for however long he was there. and what was stranger, your mum listened to him.
she let you.
you couldn’t make heads or tails out of the whole thing, but frankly you were too tired and stressed to even try.
especially as Kyle began to look calculating and suspicious when you started falling asleep at the table over your shared meals, and you were starting to think he was no longer buying your excuses of it being due to staying up too late binge watching Bridgerton or Parks and Rec or whatever else came to mind.
you didn’t know what else to do. you’d tried again and again to bring it all up with your mum, to get some clarity on when exactly she’d feel settled enough to do what she promised and at least take over care of your half brother. he was two, now, surely things were as settled as they were going to get, right?
but the last time you’d tried she’d screamed at you, and her tantrum wound up waking the baby, and it was you who had to soothe him back to sleep.
and in the end, nothing ever changed as time went on.
two, almost three years had passed since your mother had told you about the engagement, and the further distance from it you got the sharper the clarity with which you saw the situation around you.
you felt oddly like you were watching your life pass you by. living on the outskirts of real existence, like all you could do was put your hand against the thick glass that separated you from everyone else in an attempt to pretend you were among them. and no matter how loud you screamed, they never heard you. they never saw you.
the stress of lying to Kyle about it all was what broke you in the end. you’d increasingly found yourself jittery and on edge around your mum, prone to distraction during conversation, and unpredictable bouts of anxiety so fierce you couldn’t breathe. and tired, so bone deep tired that you cried at the drop of a hat, at the simplest of inconveniences.
you wanted it to stop. you wanted out. you loved your mum and of course your half brother was sweet and adorable but he wasn’t yours. neither was the cat, or the flowers, or the house, not even your room. the only things that were yours were the things Kyle had given you.
but you didn’t see a way out.
unless.
the next time you called and Kyle answered, you hesitated after your usual greeting, cuddling your stuffed bear to your chest.
exhaustion crusted your eyes, your entire body ached, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been able to scrape together enough time to shower, and you were catching a cold.
miserable.
that was what you were.
“Sweetheart.” Kyle’s voice was soft. “What’s going on with you lately? I feel like I’m putting you to sleep when we talk.”
you were quick to reassure him, your heart aching at the thought that he thought you could ever be bored with him. “It’s not you, I promise. I’m just really…tired lately.”
he paused. “Why’s that, lovie?”
you swallowed. if you did this, if you complained and laid it all bare before him, he might be disgusted with your ingratitude. might be angry with you. might hate you. and once you told him, there’d be no going back.
“You can tell me anything,” he reminded you, voice warm, drawing you toward the comfort of the memory of his touch rather than the cold clutter of your room and your swirling anxieties. “Who can you go to if not your big brother?”
taking a deep, shaking breath, you finally admitted, “I don’t think I can do this any more.”
for a second, he didn’t speak. when he did, his voice was calm, but there was a thread of steel in it, a note of darkness you’d never heard before. “Why don’t you tell me what that means, sweetheart, before you make me panic.”
you laid it out for him in halting, backtracking sentences. forgetting parts and having to go back and add in context as you finally told him what was really going on.
he was quiet, hardly even seeming to breathe. by the time you’d finished you’d worked yourself up into a real crying fit.
you clung to the bear in your arms, the phone pressed hard against your ear.
before you could unleash a glut of apologies, beg him to forget it, to forgive you, to still care about you, he said in a voice you’d never heard him use before, “I’ll be there in forty minutes. Possibly with Ghost and Soap. Maybe even the captain. We’ll get your things tonight. You’re coming home with me.”
you were dreaming.
that was the explanation, right?
you had to be dreaming.
you’d fallen asleep and now we’re getting to live out the desperate wish for your big brother to come to your rescue like your own personal white knight.
“Tell me you understand, sis.”
your mouth worked. nothing came out for a minute. “Do you mean it?” your voice was fragile. you felt like everything stopped as you waited for his answer.
“Of course I fucking mean it. You should’ve told me this ages ago, lovie. I’m raging that you’ve been living like this and kept it a secret from me. You lied to me.”
a sob broke free of your chest, pain lancing through you, brittle sharp. having him be angry at you hurt worse than you’d feared.
he sighed, hissed through his teeth, and you could imagine him rubbing his forehead. when he spoke next, his voice was soft again. “Sweetheart. It’s my job to take care of you. What did we agree on back when we first met?”
through your tears, you answered dutifully, “That I’d always do what you told me to.”
“That’s right. And haven’t I told you to always be honest with me?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then. I’m still coming to get you, baby. I just want you to think about this, about how you’ve made me worry about you because you lied to your big brother when I could’ve protected you all this time. Fell in love with your pretty face right when I first met you, lovie, think I would’ve let you stay in that house with those vultures if you’d told me the truth?”
your heart raced.
he didn’t mean love like that. he didn’t. he couldn’t. you knew that.
scrambling for something to say, you tried to protest, “But your father-”
“Fuck my father,” he snapped. “The captain is my father. The man in that house with you is nothing but a sperm donor, he couldn’t teach me anything about how to be a man or a husband or a parent. Is that why you didn’t tell me all this time? You didn’t think I’d believe you?”
you nodded miserably, and realizing he couldn’t see you, you admitted wetly, “I didn’t want you to hate me. Or think I was useless or ungrateful or-”
“That is enough of that,” he said, and you heard him take several deep, measured breaths. hearing him, you automatically matched it, managing to calm your own growing panic. “I never want you to even think those words in connection to yourself again. Hear me, sis?”
quietly, you agreed.
“We will be talking more about that later. Count on it. Now. Can you be ready to leave in thirty minutes?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
_-_
in the end, you didn’t have much to pack. your stuffed animals from Kyle, your art and supplies (also from Kyle), and some clothes.
when your mum realized what you were doing as she caught you trying to collect a suitcase from the hall closet, she broke down into hysterics. she was sobbing and screaming, accusations flying, along with threats and vile, vicious words even as she kept looking at you with that pitying expression like she just didn’t know where she’d gone wrong with you.
Kyle showed up early, but you didn’t even hear him come in from your position still cornered against the open closet door, biting your lower lip so hard you were afraid you’d bite clean through it, tears streaming down your face as you cringed away from your mother’s flailing hands.
neither of you even realized he was there until the front door slammed shut.
your mum’s mouth clicked closed as she spun to face him, and you took one look at him, standing there with his brow furrowed, jaw set, hands in loosely curled fists at his sides, and had to cover your mouth to keep your sudden moan inside.
“Lovie,” he said, voice cold, eyes never leaving your mother. “Come out from there.”
moving on shaky feet, you edged around your mother, squeezing past her, avoiding her gaze, avoiding even coming close to touching her. as you did, you noticed your stepfather standing frozen at the other end of the room. eyes fixed on Kyle.
you wondered how long he’d been there. what was going through his mind. why he was looking at Kyle like a man who'd wandered into the cave of a hibernating bear.
the tight band of panic that had been looped around your chest as she’d screamed finally loosened when your mother was no longer looming over you, her hands within arms reach of your face and upper arms, and you nearly tripped in your haste to get to Kyle.
he had a hand out, reaching for you, and you took his huge, warm hand in both of yours, shivering as he pulled you in close enough you could bury your face in his hoodie.
every part of him was so warm.
“Did you manage to get anything packed?” he asked, softly. his body radiated tightly controlled fury, his hand slipping around your waist to splay over your lower back, pulling you in even tighter.
it felt so fucking good to have him touch you again, so good you nearly forgot to answer him. “My art,” you croaked. “The stuffed animals.”
he hummed. “That’s enough for now, then. I’ll get you out of here and let the captain and the others collect the rest of your things.”
your mother’s voice lashed out like a whip. “Everything she has I bought her, everything in that room came from me and it stays here just like she will! I will not let her behave like an ungrateful brat throwing this ridiculous tantrum, I am her mother, you aren’t even-”
“Enough.”
strangely, that was your step father’s voice. not Kyle’s like you expected.
turning just enough you could catch a glimpse of the room, you saw that your stepfather had crossed over to your mother, but his gaze was still trained on Kyle as he laid a soft hand on her tensed shoulder. “Let her go. It’s not worth it.”
Kyle gently pulled free the hand you were clinging to with both of yours, his broad palm cupping the back of your head and turning it so your face was buried back in his hoodie again. his hand stayed a heavy weight, on your neck and on the back of your head, keeping you there, his other hand on your lower back spreading out a little wider, fingers pressing in a little harder.
heat flushed through your body, your mind spinning. all you could smell was that forest and sunshine scent tinged with darkness. all you could feel was him, warm and big with his muscles wound tight like hot steel against you, bigger body curled around you protectively.
“If she goes,” your mother hissed, “she’s not my daughter anymore. She can never come back.”
Kyle laughed, the sound cold, nothing like the kind you drew out of him with bad puns or your shared inside jokes. “And she never will. But don’t worry. You can keep everything that I didn’t personally pay for.”
your face burned hot, the slow threatening purr of his voice making your insides coil tight as you listened, your nipples tightening in your shirt, and your pussy heat. you loved it when he got like this. protective. caring. concerned.
angry.
not at you, never at you.
but angry on your behalf.
how many times had you fantasized about him doing exactly this? coming to your rescue, your own personal white knight, sweeping you off your feet and-
wait he was actually sweeping you off your feet. your wide eyes peeked over his shoulder as he swung you into his arms, just in time to see the door open and three men (big, military, one with a mohawk, one with a beard and one wearing a black balaclava) file inside with all the confidence in the world.
Kyle turned, and you were left staring over his shoulder as he wordlessly walked out of the house. the man with the beard and the man with the mohawk followed you, and you put names to faces.
Captain Price, Johnny, and the one in the balaclava who'd stayed inside would be Simon.
a surreal sort of air clung to the space around you as Kyle opened up his car door and gently placed you in the front seat. you watched him buckle you in, blinking up at him.
“We’re getting out of here,” Kyle said, and you weren’t sure at first if he was talking to you until his voice softened and he met your eyes a moment, patting your hands sitting loosely in your lap and he said, “watch your fingers, baby,” before he shut the car door.
the sound of conversation was quiet, and muffled further by the car door. you could hear snatches and bits, you thought maybe what was the captain agreeing to collect your things, and drop them off later. and Johnny said something after that that made the captain reach over and slap him upside the back of his head.
Johnny had an extremely thick accent, and the words had been quiet enough, muffled enough, that you could be wrong. it could totally just be wishful thinking brought on by stress and horniness and shock and sleeplessness.
but you could’ve sworn that Johnny’d called you Kyle’s girlfriend. not his stepsister.
his girlfriend.
it echoed in your head as Kyle got into the drivers seat and started the car.
the drive to Kyle’s flat passed quickly. you were so exhausted that all it took was one stern order for you to lay your ‘pretty head down and get some rest’ and you were out like a light. you didn’t rouse until you found yourself being set down on the cold countertop of a bathroom sink.
confused, still mostly asleep, you sunk your nails into Kyle’s hoodie, trying to hang on, a pitiful querulous noise escaping you as you tried to force yourself more awake.
“Shh, lovie,” he murmured. “Just want to run a bath for ya.”
after a moment’s debate you decided to not be angry with his presumption. with the insinuation. he was just taking care of you. simple as that.
the bath was a bit of a blur, but you were bitterly disappointed when Kyle deliberately turned his back to let you get undressed and into the tub on your own. when he turned back he told you sternly not to pout, that’d he'd do the hard parts.
he washed your hair for you, lulling you back to sleep with his hands in your hair massaging your scalp. some indeterminable amount of time later, he roused you with a kiss to your cheek and told you it was time to get out.
like a gentleman, he kept his eyes averted as you got out and he wrapped you up in a huge towel that smelled like him.
“Alright,” he said, frowning slightly. “We don’t have any of your clothes here, so-”
“Can I wear yours?” the words left your mouth without thought, hope flaring bright at being so surrounded by him. you couldn’t have him the way you wanted, but maybe you could have this.
Kyle lifted a brow. “I dunno, they may not fit well, sis. Your big bro’s got more’n a few inches on you.”
a shiver chased down your spine, and you swallowed, shrugging to try and play it off as you squeezed your legs together. “So I’ll just wear a shirt tonight.”
“You’ll be freezing,” he said dryly. “The heating in my condo is off until September.”
the pout on your face deepened, and you turned it up to him, pleading softly, “I’ll be under the covers. Please? I won’t get cold. Promise.”
Kyle’s mouth curved, his eyes warm and soft. with one hand he reached out and cupped your cheek. you leaned into it, humming, eyes slipping closed in pleasure.
“You're gonna be the death of me, love, know that?” he sighed, but the words were so unbelievably fond you didn’t pay them any mind. three years with him as your brother had taught you to read him. he wasn’t worried or upset with you in the slightest. he was happy you were here.
forcing your eyes open you looked up at him, trying to press his hand between your cheek and your shoulder, greedy for every bit of touch you could get. in the back of your head you wondered again if Johnny’d really called you Kyle’s girlfriend. “I’m tired, Kyle. I just wanna sleep.”
his smile faltered and a crease appeared between his brows. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry. C’mon, lets get you settled.”
just like he had been all night, he carried you into his bedroom, still wrapped practically head to to in the towel. you tucked your face against his collarbone and giggled. “You’re spoiling me. What if I forget how to walk?”
the smirk on his face made your pussy clench. “I’ve survived worse than carrying my little sister around. I just consider it part of my big brother duties.”
he set you down on the bed, and then rifled through his dresser drawers, muttering to himself. you took the opportunity to look around his bedroom, burning with curiosity. you’d never been inside, but you’d fantasized about being here so much.
it was warmer than you’d thought it would be, or maybe cozier was the better word. it was a little chilly actually. an idea started to form in your head as Kyle turned around and offered a henley.
“How about this? I think all of my hoodies are dirty right now, I actually don’t own that many clothes-”
you nodded, sneaking an arm out from the towel to take the henley. “No, no this is perfect, I love it.”
the fabric was soft, cool to the touch under your fingers.
Kyle snorted. “It’s a henley, lovie, not another stuffed bear, you don’t have to flatter me.”
frowning, you shook your head, cuddling the shirt close. “No, I do love it. It’s my brother’s, why wouldn’t I love it?”
something flashed in his eyes, and he opened his mouth, but then shook his head, and it was only when he relaxed and fell back a step that you realized he’d advanced much closer to you than you’d noticed.
“Ok, I’m gonna turn around and let you get dressed.”
he did exactly that. heat flushed your face. you were much more conscious this time about being naked in front of him, even if he (unfortunately) wasn’t looking. slowly you drew the towel off, letting it fall to the floor.
electricity and need ran wild in your skin, and for a moment you almost wanted to call his name. make him turn, see you sitting naked and wet on his bed.
shaking your head, you tugged the henley on over your head, trying to shove that thought away. but in the back of your head, you thought about what Johnny could’ve said. what if he had said it? why would he have called you that?
was that what Kyle called you?
you glanced at the neat pile of your dirty clothes now in Kyle’s hamper in the corner. your panties were in there. Kyle hadn’t offered you anything else. the henley came down to your midthighs so you didn’t technically need anything, but…
but if you were to bend over, or reach above your head, he’d be able to see. to see everything.
carefully you got off of the edge of his bed before you left a visible wet spot there. Clearing your throat, you nervously tucked your hair behind your ears, prompting him to turn around. “Well?” you asked, holding your arms out, sharply aware of the hem of the shirt lifting, cool air wrapping around your thighs. “What do you think?”
Kyle rubbed his mouth. His dark eyes dragged over you from your head down to your feet, and then back up, slow and deliberate. in the wake of his gaze you were left breathless, clit aching. the insides of your thighs were growing heated.
“I think,” he said, and it couldn’t just be your imagination that his voice was deeper than usual. “That you look better in it than I do, sis.”
your body burned, and you tried desperately to think of something to say to have him replace his eyes with his hands.
he glanced at his watch, and then pointed meaningfully to the bed. “C’mon. I’ve kept you up late and you look like you haven’t slept in years. Bed time, love.”
gathering your courage, you said, “You get in first. I don’t care which side I get.”
Kyle looked like he’d been angling his body to leave, only to freeze now, blinking at you in confusion. “...what?”
motioning to the bed, you said evenly, “Well we’re sharing the bed, aren’t we? You said you just had a one bedroom since the other one became your office.”
“Yes,” he replied slowly. “But I can’t make you share a bed with me, sis, I’ll just go sleep on the couch-”
firmly, much more firmly than you’d ever dared speak to him before, you dared to argue. “No.”
he froze, eyes a little wide, eyebrows lowered like he was struggling to recognize you.
this is your chance. take it.
stepping closer to him, you caught his hand, tugging him towards the bed. “You’ve done so much for me. Not just tonight, but since you met me. And I’m not going to make you sleep on a couch in your own home. So either we both sleep in it, or I take the couch.”
in an instant he was scowling. “Over my dead body will you sleep on any couch, baby.”
you had him. you swallowed your smile, heat rushing into your pelvis. he was spoiling you tonight, calling you baby like this. like he couldn't help it. he hardly ever used that endearment with you. you wanted more.
“So I guess we’re sharing the bed,” you said patiently, smiling at him. “Pick your side.”
of course it wasn’t quite that simple. Kyle grumbled and protested and tried to insist on taking the couch, but you stood firm, unmovable. it wasn’t until you turned big, teary eyes on him and asked why he couldn’t share with his sister that he gave in.
he put you in the bed first, but you were glad you were laying down as you watched him strip out of his day clothes, still grumbling and worrying, muttering to himself as he moved through his room like a lion prowling its enclosure.
Kyle was grace and strength and power in a perfectly controlled package, his skin rich and luxurious, marred occasionally by a scar or decorated with a tattoo. you’d long since catalogued all of them in your sketchbooks, or at least all of the ones you’d seen, but you never got tired of looking.
distracted from your gawking, and the heat crawling over your body and clouding your head, Kyle climbed under the covers, still grumbling.
for now you kept your back to him, and since you couldn’t see it you smiled, smug and victorious. you’d never really had the opportunity to be spoiled before Kyle, but you imagined that it was something like this. always getting your way, even when you shouldn’t. and it was so good.
you made your body relax, stay still, kept your breathing as even and slow as possible, not wanting Kyle to know how every nerve in your body was alive, your pussy drenched between your thighs.
when the grumbling had stopped, you started shifting restlessly on the bed. just a little, at first. then slowly more and more noticeable, drawing his attention. demanding it, luring him in to the trap you were setting.
“Lovie,” Kyle groaned through his teeth. “Why’re you moving around over there like you’re running a race?”
fuck, he sounded so sexy when he was irritated.
you shifted again, one last time before you hurriedly stilled and then replied, quietly, “M’fine, sorry.”
a soft sigh, almost a hiss, and he moved, rising like a wave, one of his fists bracing on the other side of your body so he could stare down at you, frowning as he loomed, huge and undeniable. “Baby. I’m not gonna tell you again. We’re turning over a new leaf here, sis. You’re gonna tell your big brother everything, and you’re never gonna lie to me again, not even by omission. So don't tell me it's nothing or that you're fine. Tell me why you can’t sleep.”
you turned over a little, squeezing your legs together, fighting the urge to slip a hand under the covers. licking your lips, you worked up the courage to plant the lie you’d decided on, to bait the trap for what you really wanted. “...I’m cold.”
this time the groan that came out of Kyle was guttural, his head dropping down to rest against your collarbone, your nipples tightening in response to his sheer nearness, and your breath catching.
“I told you that-” he shook his head, giving up. “Fuck it.”
he flopped back down beside you, much nearer this time, and both of his muscular arms looped around your body, hauling you in close, tight enough against his chest you could feel every breath against your back. and he was warm, like he’d been laying in the sun and not the cold dreary evening weather in London.
“Is that better, sis?” he asked.
better? It was heaven.
your clit throbbed, and you had to swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth. your heart was racing and you hoped he couldn’t feel it. his hands were in appropriate places on your stomach but you couldn’t help but think how close they were to your tits, to your pussy, how close his cock was.
“It’s good,” you eventually managed.
against the back of your neck, you felt him grin. “Good girl.”
your eyes rolled back, and you twisted your fingers in the sheets and bit your lower lip hard to keep quiet.
blissfully ignorant, Kyle just insisted gruffly, “Now sleep, alright?”
all you could manage was a single, breathy sound that you hoped would convey something approaching agreement.
you laid there, perfectly still, waiting. waiting.
eventually his body relaxed even further, arms pulling you in closer as he dropped into sleep.
it made you tremble, trying not to whimper at the feeling of his body pressing so tight against your own. he was so big, so warm, so fucking hot.
and if you don’t have a mother anymore, some desperate, lilting voice in your head whispered, then you don’t technically have a step brother. right?
your hips shifted, slow and cautious against Kyle, holding your breath. but he didn’t stir.
he’s always been a heavy sleeper, he told you that. you can do whatever you want now.
the thought made you dizzy.
you wouldn’t touch him, not in his sleep of course, and you’d never have the courage to do it when he was awake, but maybe…maybe like this you could pretend.
it would be the closest you’d ever be to the real thing, to actually having him inside you.
you could pretend, it would be so close to the real thing. you knew how to be quiet, and quick, you’d gotten herself off in a scant few minutes just as routine before.
you could. you could you could you could -
for a moment you hung there, breathless, waiting for…something. a bolt of lighting to strike you as punishment for wanting to imagine your stepbrother was getting you off with his big, tough hands on your tender little virgin pussy. for Kyle to snap out of sleep and shove you off the bed, hissing angrily at you…
but he never would.
he never could.
he was the best big brother a girl could ask for.
that thought was what had you slipping your hand below the hem of his borrowed shirt. you were dripping around your own fingers, the smallest little sound pressed out of your chest as you brushed your clit.
he was so warm and so close, that forest and fresh air scent tinged with something dark clinging to the insides of your lungs, wrapping your head in a fog as you shifted to give yourself room to work.
and as you did, your hips began to grind. ever so gently, slowly, barely noticeable, against Kyle’s hips. not enough to wake him, not enough for him to notice, just for you to pretend.
having him this close already had you on edge, and you were dangling on the precipice, remembering feverishly how he’d looked coming to your rescue, pulling you into his chest, how he’d called you good girl on the phone that once-
in his sleep Kyle groaned, and turned. a gasp got caught in your mouth as he rolled slightly, covering your body with more of his, pinning the hand you had between your thighs awkwardly to the mattress, cutting you off right before you could cum.
you lay there a second, panting quietly, trying to think around the wild thought of how good he felt weighing you down, before he shifted in his sleep, and you felt it.
he was hard.
you whimpered, too loud, but you couldn’t fucking help it. the cock you’d literally been dreaming of for so long now was right there, tucked against the curve of your ass as he started rocking against you in his sleep, your stepbrother was having a wet fucking dream while holding you against his body-
you didn’t even have to move your fingers. you came, hard and unexpected, shuddering and shaking beneath him. your thighs shook, and his hips never stopped rolling, lazy, half-coordinated thrusts of his seeking hips, unconsciously trying to find the hot, slick hole you wanted nothing more than for him to take.
thinking was gone, out the window, out of the realm of possibilities. you didn’t need to think, you needed your brother to shove that thick length deep and make you cum on it.
but even as that wishful thought formed, you felt him shift, the face he had pressed against your neck compressing, frowning.
he was waking up.
so this is fight, flight, or freeze, you thought stupidly as Kyle lifted his head, grunting sleepily, hips still grinding down.
“Wha-” a sharp inhale, his hands bruise tight on your ribcage. “Fuck, fuck-”
the second he tried to move away a sharp, pathetic whine pressed out of you.
he froze.
you could feel his heart thundering in his chest. or maybe that was just your own, your blood roaring loud enough in your ears to drown out any sane thought about what a bad idea this was.
“...love,” he whispered. “You’re…fuck. I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s alright,” you said, breathless. your thighs were still trembling. and suddenly just getting off the once wasn’t enough. it never could have been enough. “I…I don’t mind.”
Kyle paused, and your eyes nearly rolled back as your pussy throbbed at the weight of his gaze, his attention, so fully and completely on you.
“You…what? What does that mean?”
now or never. right?
he wouldn’t be angry at you. not Kyle. he’d just tell you that it was alright, but it couldn’t happen, and to go back to sleep. and that would be the end of it.
you turned your head, meeting his pinched gaze.
and very deliberately, you lifted your hips, pressing your ass against his still hard dick.
greedily you watched the flare of heat in his eyes, a small sound escaping you as his hands reflexively tightened on your body.
“B-baby…” he said warningly, “I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”
nodding, your cheek sliding against his pillowcase, you kept rubbing against his cock, your hands tight around his wrists in an effort to ensure he couldn’t leave. “I do,” you whispered. “I promise.”
he groaned, and the sound rattled through your body right to your clit. he looked like a god, bathed in the moonlight pouring in from his bedroom window.
“Lovie, this is-”
“It’s alright,” you promised, trying to grind against him the way you’d seen in porn. “Please don’t leave, please stay.”
another sound, frustrated, but almost like a moan poured from his mouth, making your body tingle. “Baby, I can’t, this isn’t-”
“Please,” you begged, tears gathering in your eyes at the thought of him pulling away from you now.
he stopped moving, eyes burning through your body.
“Stay. It’s not weird,” you promised sweetly. “It’s not, we’re not really siblings.”
his eyebrows snapped together. “Yes we fucking are. I’m your goddamn big brother.”
those words, his dark tone, the feeling of his cock slotted between your ass cheeks, it was too much to bear.
you moaned.
way too loud, your eyes rolling back as your pussy clenched around nothing.
god, why did it have to turn you on that he was your big brother?
“Oh, fuck,” Kyle cursed, something you’d never heard before in his voice. Or maybe…maybe something you’d heard hints of, but never this strong. never unleashed. something that matched the dark tinge to his cologne that haunted your dreams and fantasies. “Fucking Christ, baby.”
him calling you that only made you wetter, like always.
“If I put my hand between those thighs that pussy would be wet. Wouldn’t it?”
shock made you squeak, and then the following arousal hit you like you’d run into a goddamn wall when you’d processed what he’d actually fucking said.
“She’s crying for me, isn’t she lovie?” he growled, voice lower, darker, and he slowly lowered his body back onto yours, cock throbbing behind the thin fabric of his boxers, the head of his cock pressed up against your asshole. “Let’s see f'I’m right, hm?”
before you could think he’d slipped a hand beneath you, right between your thighs, cupping your whole sex in his palm like he’d done it a million times before.
you sobbed, sparks dancing behind your eyelids, hips bucking weakly against his hand, trying to get some friction.
“God, I fucking knew it,” he grunted, squeezing a little, then drawing his hand back and spanking your cunt, making you cry out. “Shit, my little sister’s got a wet fucking pussy because I called myself her big brother, is that right pretty girl?”
what else could you do but be honest? Your head bobbed, some slutty babble bubbling out of you, you didn’t even know what you were trying to say, maybe just his name or ‘please’ or even ‘thank you’.
since the day you’d met him your body had belonged to him. you wanted him to take it.
“That’s what I thought,” he said, and shoved his hips forward, forcing you to grind against the heel of his hand as his fingers traced your hole. it caught you so off guard you nearly choked on your own moan, body jolting against his. “Think I didn't hear you on the phone, moaning like my personal goddamn dreams come to life when I told you not to dress like that where other blokes could see you? Think I didn't know you were getting off on your big brother telling you to keep this pussy locked up tight for him? Think I wasn't fucking my hand listing to you whine and moan like that on the phone with me?"
he'd known? all this time, he'd known? "Ky-Kyle-"
"You've been torturing me with it," he accused, his hand squeezing tight, grinding his cock against your ass when you jolted as he brushed your clit just right, light flashing behind your eyes at the sensation. "It's been torture listening to you cum again and again just from me telling you what to do, trying to hide it from me. Torture, haven't I been good to you? Aren't you gonna apologize for torturing me, baby?"
guilt and pleasure swirled inside of you, and mindless with the need to keep his hands on your body and comfort him to draw out that hurt tone in his words, you rushed to say, "M'sorry, Kyle."
"Nah," he grunted, spanking your pussy again and kissing the crest of your ear as you sobbed, "Say it sweeter, need a bigger apology than that, don't I deserve it?"
"M' sorry," you cried, your hands around his wrist, hips twitching, not sure if you wanted more of that spanking or less. "M'so sorry, didn't mean to be mean to my big brother, m'sorry, m'sorry!"
he shushed you sweetly, kissing your ear again, his hand now gentle as he cupped your pussy, squeezing it like it belonged to him.
didn't it?
"Thank you," he said warmly directly in your ear. his fingers traced your slick folds, the sounds making your face heat. "That's a sweet apology, baby. But I want you to make it up to me. Can you do that? Won't you make all that teasing up to your big brother?"
you tried to answer but his fingers circled your clit and all you could manage was a broken half syllable.
"Say yes," he whispered. "Say you'll make it up to me, however I want."
through the shake in your hands, in your thighs, pussy pulsing against his hand you nodded fervently. "Yes, please, wanna make it up to you, whatever you want, please!"
"Shit, that’s what I fucking thought.”
in a flash you were on your back, staring up at him. your arms were pinned above your head by one of his hands, and the look in his eyes made your stomach flip even as your pussy clenched on nothing. he looked like a man gone mad, pushed too far beyond all reason. he looked starving. and you were the main course.
“I’m your big brother,” he repeated, making your knees tighten around his hips, “but that’s not all you want me to be, is it baby? You want me to act like your boyfriend too, don’t you?”
fuck, fuck, fuck!
“Yes, yes, fuck, please, Kyle, want you to be both, I need it.” the words burst out of you without running through your head for approval first.
it made him smile, slightly mean at the corners. “D’you know why you want that, sweetheart?”
you shook your head.
he leaned down, catching your mouth in a kiss. you gasped into it, too startled to even respond at first, trying hard to play catch up to the way he was devouring your mouth, licking over your teeth like he was making a point.
“You want me to be your big brother, and you want me to be your boyfriend, because you know that only your big brother could ever take proper care of you and this sweet little pussy. No one else could take care of you like me, could make you this wet.”
god, wasn’t that the truth. you lifted your mouth up in silent offering to him. “Only you, Kyle.”
“Fuck.” his hands tore at the henley he’d put you in, groaning when he sat back to get a good look at you, bathed in moonlight. “God, look at that. Look at you, sweetheart, my sweet, perfect little sister, so horny for her big brother you had to ride his cock while he was sleeping, huh?”
the blush on your cheeks burned, heightened by Kyle’s wicked smile, by his hands cupping your breasts, squeezing hard, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
“Such pretty tits, baby. And that sweet little pussy, fuck.” his gaze snapped back to your face, suddenly hard, fingers squeezing tight enough to make you squeal. “No one else has ever seen any of this, have they? You’ve been good for me and kept all of it safe, just for me, haven’t you? Haven’t you baby?”
nodding fervently, you said, “Yes, yes, just f’you, Kyle, fuck, only wanted you to see, no one else, I promise I promise-”
he let go of your nipples, and you slumped back against the sheets, panting, unsure if it was in relief or disappointment.
“Good girl,” he crooned.
your whole body quaked, another too loud moan pressed out of you from the praise.
a shuffled of fabric had you turning your head, and you whined with need, knees twitching up to open yourself wider in silent offering as you watched him shove down his boxers, pulling out his cock.
your jaw dropped. “That…that won’t…Kyle I can’t…it’s so big!”
he chuckled, one hand catching your chin, lifting your face to his own. “Nah, trust me, you can take it,” he crooned, kissing you sweetly, each pass of his lips over yours a drug that pulled you deeper into the red hot need that clouded your every thought until only being good for your big brother remained. “You wanna take it, don’t you, lovie? You’ve been wanting this dick so bad, haven’t you? Been dreaming about your big brother’s cock.”
the hand on your chin shook your face slightly, making you open your eyes to meet his hard gaze.
“Say it, baby. Or I can't give you an inch.”
the threat alone nearly made you cry, and you scrambled to comply. “Yes, I’ve wanted it so long, Kyle,” you said, clutching at his sides, forgetting all about your earlier hesitance. “Thought about it so much, please, please, please give it to me, I need it.”
he hummed, fucking his tongue into your mouth in a slow, drugging kiss, his weight shifting over your body, pressing you down, down into the mattress.
“Say ‘I need my big brother’s cock’,” he murmured against your lips.
“I need my big brother’s cock, please!”
he groaned, and you - you felt it, felt his cock twitch against your inner thigh.
fuck.
fuck.
Kyle liked it as much as you did. how long had he liked it? had he looked at you and wanted you, the same way you’d looked and wanted him?
you’d give it to him. every fantasy, every dream, every idle horny thought and desire. anything and everything for your big brother.
it was like the last of your nerves vanished with that realization, and you laid back, secure in the knowledge you were about to get everything you’d ever wanted.
“Please,” you begged prettily, watching Kyle’s eyes glimmer, feeling the teasing heat of his cock carefully evading the lifting of your hips trying to rub against him. “Please give it to me? Please, Kyle? I’ll be good, I promise, I promise.”
the smile on his mouth made your pulse pick up.
“There's my girl.”
the weight of his cock finally, finally, finally settled against your cunt, and you moaned, mouth dropping open and staying open as the tip lodged right against you. he was so hot, it felt like he was burning, and you needed all of it inside you so you could burn right along with him.
“Can feel her clenching,” Kyle grit out, and you nodded dumbly. “Shit, haven’t even made you cum proper and you’re already so pretty n' cockdrunk. Knew you’d be so perfect, lovie, so good for your big brother.”
he shoved forward, burying half of his cock deep in one push, and you screamed, nails clawing up his sides, the stretch of pain and the friction of pleasure clattering about in your insides until you couldn’t separate the two.
all you could see was Kyle, dark skin gleaming in the moonlight, eyes burning burning burning. all you could feel was his body, weighing you down into the mattress, stretching you so wide you feared you’d split in half, every breath either of you took causing him to rub against something that was driving you insane.
all you could smell was him. the forest, fresh air, that tinge of darkness, thicker now, heavier. and sex. who would've known that sex had a smell, and it smelled like heaven, like taking your big brother’s cock for the first time.
vaguely you were aware that you were saying something, or trying to at least. maybe asking for more, begging him to go easy, to take it slow, to let you adjust.
he leaned down, wrapping his arms around your back, pulling you close. he kissed your cheek sweetly. “S’alright, baby, you can take it. Be good for your big brother, hm? Be good, and take this-”
without warning he pulled his hips back and shoved forward again, burying himself balls deep. you screamed loud and shrill, your vision whiting out, all thought utterly vanishing into basic words like:
big.
hot.
fuck.
“Fuck, there's my girl,” Kyle moaned, his hips starting to roll, not giving you a second to adjust. “There's my fucking girl, fuck, you took that so good, sweetheart, take it so good when your brother fucks you, you were made for this, weren’t you? Hm? Is that it? Is that what you wanted?”
yes, yes, yes, that was what you wanted, all you’d ever wanted, even if it hurt, you wanted it to hurt, wanted to feel it, to have to feel it the next day, the next week, to remember who’d done it to you, every moment of every day.
tears were running down your cheeks, and you only knew because Kyle told you.
“Look so sweet crying on my cock, so pretty, that’s a girl, that’s a girl, fucking cry for me, can feel that hot little virgin cunt fucking clenching, she’s ready to fucking cum, there's a good girl, my good fucking girl, perfect baby sister, love you so fucking much, god!"
you were close, you were so close, you would’ve already cum but you wanted to hear Kyle, hanging on to every syllable, writhing against him on his cock as he forced you to take every fat inch, like he was carving a path through your insides just for his cock, a space no one else could ever possibly hope to fill.
a space he’d never let anyone else even try to.
and those hot words kept falling from his mouth, driving you higher and higher. “Such a good girl, such a good fucking girl. Saved this perfect fucking pussy all for me, waited until I got you alone so you could ride it like a good fucking girl, god, wanted this so fucking much, no idea, no fucking idea.”
he turned his head, sucking a mark on your throat, thrusts growing harder, rougher, your eyes rolling back in your head, a faint roar building in your ears.
“Thank me,” he growled, demanding. “Thank me for it, baby, be a good girl and say fucking thank you.”
“Thank you,” you cried obediently, barely hanging on, hardly able to think, just doing what he told you to, just like always, and wasn’t that a fucking relief. “Thank you, thank you thank you, such a good big brother, love you so much, feels so good, Kyle !”
he was pounding your cunt, hard enough that all you could do was fucking take it, tears streaming down your face as the pleasure built too high, too hot, too fast, too much. you couldn’t take it, you couldn’t bear it, it was gonna break you-
“Cum,” he ordered, almost sweet in your ear. “God, cum on your big brothers cock, make me fill you up with my cum, that’s what you fucking want, isn’t it?”
the entire world vanished.
the orgasm that followed his command ripped through you, blotting out breath, shutting out light and sound and scent and feel.
your body locked, every muscle contracting, and the scream he drove out of you could’ve woken the dead.
the last thing you felt before you passed out was Kyle’s teeth on your neck, and something hot splashing against your inner walls.
when you came to, you almost thought it was a dream. you were clean and dry again, and redressed in Kyle’s henley.
for a moment, you froze, devastated, panic clawing up your throat.
but then you shifted, and pain lanced up through your insides, making you hiss through your teeth and freeze.
Kyle clicked his tongue, brow furrowed as he moved to brace himself on a fist to hover over you, his other hand softly rubbing over your side like he was quieting an animal.
“Shh, just lay there a second, baby.” he leaned down, catching your mouth in a soft, sweet kiss. “Just relax. That was a little rough for your first time.”
first time.
“It…” your voice was rough, barely a croak, but you had to confirm. “It really happened? I didn’t dream it?”
Kyle’s face softened, lovewarm and sweet. “Nah, lovie. Not a dream. Not this time.”
fresh tears, this time of relief, pricked your eyes, your fingers pulling at his sides. “Thank god.”
he chuckled, moving slowly, covering your body and pressing you back into the mattress.
strangely, you felt like you could only breathe properly again when he was completely on top of you, like the world’s best weighted blanket.
“You did so good for me,” Kyle praised, kissing your preening smile. “So pretty, sis. I’m gonna let you get a little rest, but then I’m gonna have you drink some water and eat something, alright?”
you pouted, jutting out your lower lip at him. “No. Wanna sleep.”
chuckling, he kissed your forehead, his hands squeezing your hips, your waist, your ribcage, massaging the sore muscles. “You’re gonna be good and do what I tell you. Won’t you?”
“Yes, Kyle.”
you always would.
“Good girl.” he nudged your noses together. “I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised quietly into the dark of the night. “Exactly like a big brother should.”
you shivered, grinning hard against his mouth. your hands rubbed clumsily, almost drunkenly over his broad shoulders. "Did Soap call me your girlfriend?"
Kyle froze.
frowning, you turned your head, only to catch him with the guiltiest face you'd ever seen.
"Well," he said slowly. you'd swear he was blushing. "Um. Y'see..."
you just laughed, drowning out his feeble excuses. you didn't even need them. icing on the perfect cake that was today. and suddenly you could feel it. a weight that had been holding you down your whole life, pinning you in place, freezing you in time, locked in a standstill watching as life happened around you and not to you, it all just...vanished.
breathing was easy, even with Kyle muttering (pouting) as he pressed you down against the mattress, his heavy body still the world's best weighted blanket. you were warmer than you'd ever been, happier than you'd ever dreamed. safer than you'd ever wanted, wanted more than you'd ever fantasized.
"What're you thinking about?" Kyle asked softly, kissing your cheek.
turning your head, you pressed your mouth to his, sleep clumsy and soft. "Love you," was all you said. "So much."
the corners of his mouth turned up against yours, and he pulled you even closer somehow. "Love you too, sweetheart. More than you know."
So, on your much anticipated vacation to Berlin, you got peer-pressured into clubbing? You can handle that. Your friend practically vanishing into the pulsing crowd with a kiss blown in your direction and an arm hooked around their waist, however…
Despite the alarms firing off in your mind, what else could you do but try to enjoy the night you paid for?
This train of thought is how you find yourself coated in sweat and grinding rhythmically against a big, stocky scot with an award-winning smile and a set of thick, wandering hands. The music is too loud to hear much of anything he says whenever he ducks towards your ear- which is often- but somehow you find out that his name is Johnny.
His eyes are a bit wild- starting to make you a bit squeamish honestly, and just as you’re starting to look for a way out, there's a tap on your shoulder.
You must’ve lived a previous life as a saint to deserve the face you’re met with when your head turns towards the touch, earning a whine from Johnny.
“This guy making you uncomfortable, love?” The stranger calls out with a blinding grin as his head bobs lightly in time with the DJ’s set.
You nod and attempt to pry yourself away from Johnny, only to be caged against him.
“He does that,” the man laughs into your ear from behind, hips pressed into you and rocking as his hands finds your hips, right overtop Johnny’s. his thumbs slip under Johnny's palms with a fond familiarity and squeeze gently. ”-you’ll get used to it. Name’s Kyle, love.”
thinking about gaz (bc he's severly underrated and deserves to be talked about more)
gaz who tears up whenever you fuck him. sometimes it just feels like too much and you're just so deep that it's overwhelming. when you guys first sleep together you stop midway bc you thought something was wrong. he was quick to tell you to keep goin.
gaz who is undoubtly a tease. we see how he interacts with price and laswell, you can't tell me that man doesn't enjoy hitting some nerves. especially if it means you'll pound him into next week.
gaz who is so obvious with the complete adoration that he has for you. everyone knows how much he loves you just based on the way he talks about you. also when he looks at you he just melts and gets heart eyes. the rest of 141 will tease him about it.
gaz who sometimes needs reassurance. he sometimes doesn't feel as though he pulls his weight as much as the other members so he needs someone to tell him that he is enough and all that he does is enough.
gaz who lowkey has an oral fixation. it isn't super obvious but you can tell by the way he'll lick his lips a little too often, or the way he will drift off a little bit during informational meetings no matter how much he tries to focus. he say anything in public/around the members but once y'all are behind close doors, he'll take anything you'll give him. fingers, dildo's, your own dick, etc.
gaz who gets flustered when you leave hickeys in places that people will notice. he's not used to that when people point it out he gets all warm and starts stuttering and thinking of reasons to try to change the subject.
gaz who does leave marks on you, but leaves them in more hidden places, your back, thighs, chest. he likes the possession but he also likes that you don't just parade it around.
gaz who doesn't fuck around when it comes to you. yk the reaction he had to graves in MW3, yeah imagine that but x100. anyone who tries to disrespect you will be on his shit list, it can be a recruit, sergeant, captain, doesn't matter, he doesn't play around.
gaz who actually loves bondage. as someone who is expected to be on go mode all the time, he feels like he doesn't actually get a chance to relax. so bondage is a way for him to get out of that mindset. it forces him to put his trust into you (not that you don't already have it) and just let all the stress just melt away.
gaz who thrives off of praise. it wasn't something he was super used to hearing so when you first told him 'good job', 'good boy', 'you're perfect', it sends a little shiver down his spine. now when you compliment him it puts a smile on his face and makes him so bashful.
i could probably go on and on but these are the first that comes to mind.
to the person who wanted a continuation of soapgaz from this, here you go <3
truthfully, you weren't that mad at johnny.
yes, it hurt, but could you fully blame him? he looked like he was getting his brain fucked out of his head, having no choice but to take the cruel thrusts his lieutenant was laying on him. you swear he slurred out a few apologies before simon stuck his fingers in the poor man's open, drooling mouth, and then you couldn't process anything other than your tears and the overwhelming urge to kick simon's head in.
but just because you weren't too pissed at johnny, that didn't mean the other two members of the team were okay with it. after all, this was his punishment just as much as simon's. what good would it be if he got away with every little thing he did?
"take good care of him, will ya?" price hums, patting kyle's back. the latter nods obediently and mutters a hoarse yessir, already eager to get his hands on the bastard and ruin him.
—
johnny doesn't know how long they've been at it; he only remembers kyle giving him a very brief, sweet kiss before he was pushed down on the bed and his pants were being tugged off, long forgotten on the floor of kyle's room.
"garrick, fuck—" he wheezes, fighting against the urge to roll his hips up. he received a slap to his cock along with a harsh hair pull when he first tried that and had no choice but to take kyle's snarled warning to heart. fuck, he's sweating so much, globs of pre-cum and lube creating a filthy, sticky mess all over his lap and the bed as kyle works his hands over his weeping cock.
"can't keep it in your pants, eh? jus' had to let this cock o'yours think for you," kyle teases, drinking in the way it twitches and spills in his hands. "and you upset the poor bird—sweet thing was all dewy-eyed. that what you were going for, tavish?"
before johnny can deny his words, the fist that holds his cock in an iron grip begins gliding up and down, and he just about chokes at the feeling of kyle's palm sliding over his sensitive tip.
"c— cannae take it, garrick, please—"
"i asked you a question."
"nae, for fucks sake!" johnny cries, letting out a pitiful little whine when the latter squeezes tight, almost too painful for him to handle. he whimpers out a soft sorry and grits his teeth when kyle clicks his tongue, shaking his head.
"behave. should be thankful 's me and not the cap, or even ghost." kyle huffs, loosening his grip just a little. "better hope he's nice to you at training tomorrow after his lil meeting with the captain."
tears clump johnny's eyelashes together as he's denied yet another orgasm, thighs shaking and chest heaving when kyle removes his hands right before he can peak, cock twitching uncontrollably on his belly. "'m sorry, kyle, jus' wanna cum," he groans, loud and unabashed. his hands itch to grab onto the other, but he's not allowed to touch, so he settles for putting on a pathetic display of rolling his hips, poor cock bouncing against him. the movement feels good, but it's not enough, and he swears he'll get himself off if kyle denies him again.
"you solid?" kyle's sweet voice melts away the heavy feelings swirling in johnny's chest, and he nods, forcing his hips to still. "need words, mactavish."
"i'm fine." johnny musters up what he hopes is an acceptable answer, not keen on being edged any longer.
kyle hums, sliding his hand over johnny's thighs, eyes trailing down appreciatively at the mess they've made. "i could let you cum, but..." he sucks in a breath—at the same time, johnny lets out a soft groan, warm hands working his cock again. "i'm a bit offended, soap. was i not good enough last time we shagged? is that why you went after ghost?"
"yer wrong, gaz, it isnae my fault—"
"shut it," kyle snaps, squeezing a fist around the head, fluids coating his hand as johnny thrashes against the bed. "i thought i was a good lay, apparently not. or are you that much of a slag?" kyle croons condescendingly, chuckling lowly at the sounds tearing through the other's throat and the desperate shakes of his head, denying it.
his poor cock's not helping his case, though. it throbs intensely at the dirty words and drips all over kyle's pretty hands, balls aching for release.
"is that it, johnny?" he purrs lowly, sliding up next to johnny on the bed, hand still wrapped tightly around his cock. he leans down to kiss him, swallowing all the sweet little sounds spilling out johnny's mouth. his hand moves a little faster, granting the smallest amount of relief, but it's just not enough.
when they break apart, johnny grits out his denial. he knew that simon had a sweet thing at home, but he was told that she was okay with it. he's not totally at fault; it's all simon.
gaz just tuts when he attempts to explain.
(johnny does feel guilty, though; he didn't stop his lieutenant from ravaging him right in front of you or shy away from your gaze. in fact, he became even more shameless, shoving his hips back and whining out barely coherent apologies. he hopes you'll let him make it up to you properly some day. preferably between your legs.)
"nah, i think you're jus' greedy. is it cause i'm not taken? that why you said yes to ghost?" kyle huffs, cruelly twisting his fist around the head of johnny's cock. the pretty smile on his face sharpens into something mean at the broken sob he gets in return.
johnny doesn't know anything anymore; he can't even decipher left from right. all he can process is kyle lifting his hand off a second too late and the unsatisfying feeling of a ruined orgasm rolling over him in ferocious waves, not nearly enough to satiate him for even a moment.
kyle shushes his heavy sobs, whispers promises that he'll let him cum next time as he slides down the bed, and picks his sensitive cock back up. this time, kyle actually puts his mouth on him, searing hot and so soft, and johnny's seeing white.
kyle shoving his long, slender fingers down your throat until you’re gagging and crying. Your own hands are wrapped around his wrist, but you’re not trying to pull away - if anything you’re shoving them deeper
but hear me out. he has a strict moral code. a very, very thin line on which he walks, according to his carefully structured guidelines.
when he meets you, it's almost like those suddenly go up in flames. he doesn't abandon them, sure. and you don't ask him to.
but it's really damn hard, when he's got you sweet and pliant like this, fangs softly dragging against your throat.
you gulp, lips parting in a ghostly little gasp you can't hold back. "I thought... I thought you didn't feed from the throat." you manage in a raspy, almost too quiet question.
"Startin' to wonder why.." he groans, hands tightening at the edge of your jaw, holding you in place with a strength that has you almost seeing stars.
"Kyle," you whimper, because his fang nicks at your neck, and you can feel the slightest sting of pain starting to bloom in your pristine skin.
"Too dangerous," he mutters, more to himself. his lips close, and then pucker against your skin, leaving a slight, devastating kiss to your trembling shoulder. he heaves a sigh. "You're too fucking dangerous, bunny."
you don't know what to say, but you squeeze the nape of his neck, where your hands are intertwined.
"I could kill you—" his voice sounds restrained. sharp. a bit like he's trying not to scare you, but also trying to get his point across. "Bite right here—" another kiss, this one on the skin where shoulder and neck meet. "right here. and it would be over."
"I trust you." you do. implicitly. Gaz has never once out your life in danger — never once has even hinted at being a dangerous person. but your pulse races, and he feels it under his lips.
"Stupid, stupid little bunny." he coos, as if faced with a broken lesser animal. heat swoops in your tummy.
"Kyle," you whine, this time trying to get him to do something — anything.
he shushes you. raises his head and presses a gentle kiss on your lips.
"Come on." his hand leaves a sharp little tap on your thigh. "On the bed. I'm hungry."
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
He's fairly experienced with quickies/one night stands, but not actual relationships. Once you start an actual relationship with each other he has to get used to more than just fucking and never seeing each other again. But, he loves it, getting to know everything that makes you tick.
He knows what he's doing enough to make you cum, but as you date each other longer he can have you seeing spots behind your eyelids with how hard you cum.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
Praise kink - Kyle lives for being praised, and that definitely carries over to the bedroom. He wants to know how much you love him, how good he feels, how good you feel because of him.
Overstimulation/Dumbification - Fuck him until all he can think about is you. He likes to get away from the pressures of work, and he trusts you completely to take care of him once he's too far gone to think properly.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
He's 50/50. If he's receiving Kyle is an absolute wreck, unable to control his hips from jerking if you're giving him a blowjob and can't stop the way he tightly fists your hair when you're going down on him.
If he's giving he's pulling out all the stops, taking you down his throat, letting you fuck into his mouth until he's gagging and tears are gathering in his eyes. Prefers giving you oral as a lead up to fucking him.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
He's willing to try the majority of things once. If it's something he thinks he definitely won't like he won't try it. He can be convinced to take risks if he's horny enough, but if anyone catches you two fucking, he's going to need to take a break from anything risky for a while until he can get over his embarrassment.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
Depends how quickly you're making him cum. He can cum 2/3 times in succession if you keep going, but after the 3rd time he's starting to reach his limits. You can maybe wring a 4th orgasm out of him, but after that he's done. If you're determined to torture him throughout the night, with ample time to recover in between rounds he can go all night, just don't expect much from him the next day.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
He moans quite loudly, to the point where he usually tries to muffle them. If you make it so he can't, by holding his wrists behind his back for example, he'll try to hold them in, but with the way you're pleasuring him they always slip out. I think he also curses a lot, no other words can tell you how he's feeling other than a 'Fuck' or 'Shit'.
going on a camping trip with gaz and having to share a sleeping bag with him at night
somehow you'd forgotten yours, even though you swore you had it with you when you were loading up the car. it was nighttime and it was cold and dark and had gaz not offered to share then you'd most certainly frozen to death (as if he'd let that happen).
"sharing body heat is most effective," he'd told you. and you were in no position to argue. plus that kind smile of his and the way he lifted the opening of the sleeping bag for you to crawl into? how could you deny that offer?
but the innocent cuddling just wasn't enough. the breeze kicking into the tent and through the opening of the sleeping bag has you shuddering against him. the sleeping bag wasn't able to accommodate two people, after all. that prompts gaz to start lightly rubbing his hands over your arms, "to stay warm, spread heat." he said. and then trailing down to your sides and as far down he could reach on your legs because he said he wanted to cover as much area as possible. even though his hands were lightly grazing every so often against your ass.
handsy, handsy, handsy. just wants to make sure you're warm! but are you still chilly? isn't that what the goosebumps are from? maybe your clothes are just in the way. he coaxes you to take off your shirt, proves that you'll be much warmer with direct skin contact by smoothing his palms over your back, your stomach, and trailing up towards your chest...
it's hot all of a sudden, a little too hot. and maybe that's what clouds your judgement because you agree. and gaz couldn't get your clothes off any quicker. it's hard at first because you don't get out of the sleeping bag. gaz's hands work calmly and efficiently, tracing over your skin and undressing the both of you.
"feel better?" he asks you with a smooth voice in your ear. his skin is so warm against yours and you're practically shuddering from his lips grazing your ear. he hugs you so tightly and those hands don't stop roaming. he's spreading the heat and those goosebumps on your skin only seem to convince him that this isn't working.
he keeps saying that you need to move to generate heat, that's why he's moving his hips like that. might as well move his hips and his hands to be as efficient as possible.
you're overheating at this point. and he's just... grinding so deliciously that it makes your head foggy enough to let him do more. so maybe, just maybe, you'll allow him to get even closer. somehow he tells you that you need to get even closer to get warmer. you aren't sure how that's possible until you feel him prodding at you. when did he pull your underwear down? just barely enough to slip himself out and in between your thighs.
yeah? yeah, baby does that feel good? nice and warm? well, can you do a favor and keep him warm? gaz thinks it's only fair. after all, he's shared his sleeping bag with you and went through all this effort just to keep you warm maybe you can help him out in return.
and god, it's hot. the way he pushes in so slowly, fills you up so completely. he groans, says it feels good. nice, warm, tight. he can't help himself when he starts bucking his hips. you're shivering so he needs to move, does he not? needs to keep you warm, right?
he'll make sure you're warm and satisfied until the sun's up. and hopefully by then you won't see your sleeping bag stuffed in the trunk of the car when you're packing up to leave.
do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere (reblogs welcome!)
sex pollen trope where you're the one affected, having been exposed to some dense gas while on an op that felt like harsh sandpaper across your throat and lungs, and now you're a feverish mess on some ratty cot in a safe house and with only ghost as company, it's miserable, as the saying goes.
hair sticking to your sweaty skin, plastered onto your forehead and neck, every swallow feeling like you've got a mouthful of sand, your fluttering pulse wild and deafening in your ears, and the throbbing ache deep in your core, the blistering heat right below your navel— it'd only been uncomfortable in the beginning, the faint throbbing incredibly familiar, but the more you ignored it, the worse it got.
and now you're here, with arousal sticking your underwear to your pussy, unable to do anything about it because your lieutenant is seated in a corner that lets him have both you and the front door within his line of sight. a quick, discreet rub under your clothes is not an option.
someone put you out of your foggy misery.
"squirmin' like a worm on a 'ook isn't gonna help." his staring doesn't either, yet he does it anyway.
"got to make sure ya aren't dyin' on me." you want to snap that you don't think proof of life is on the darkened stain between your legs, the retort pressed behind clenched teeth but another thick wave of bestial need rolls over you and god, you're about to shove your hand into your underwear, propriety be damned—
"best you don't do tha'." why the fuck not? "you'll only get relief for a moment 'fore it comes back twofold." he says as if he's reading off the morning paper and not watching you fight tooth and nail to not fuck yourself against the pillow your head is on. (soap's offer to be friends with benefits is only looking better by the hour.)
you hastily decide that it'll be better than nothing. you'll just have to rub your pussy raw until this drug runs its course and you're telling him to piss off or don't, but you've had enough. you're stuck here with him anyway, no flight home until the morn and you're not about to spend it writhing around.
"if tha's wha' you want," ghost bites his gloves off, spitting them out onto the ground before curling his hands around your ankles and dragging you toward him. "i will help." your entire world narrows down to the feel of him touching your skin, his fingers searing as they hook into the waistband of your pants, and you almost kick him in the mouth trying to get them off faster.
"but 'm not fuckin' you." the bite of disappointment is quickly forgotten, his breath warm against your slick pussy, and after three quick glides of his tongue over your pearl, your orgasm crests, pulse after pulse of pleasure so potent it stung.
in less than a minute you're burning again, need thrumming through you and with the heady push and drag of his middle finger over your sensitive nerves, curling in you until he can fit two, three—
you're lost.
(ghost telling you that he's not doing anything else because if he's going to fuck you then you're going to remember it falls on ringing ears.)
Soap putting you in a headlock when fucking you into the mattress, his chest against your back as his hips snap against the fat of your ass. You're clawing against his forearm which only makes him chuckle and comment about how feisty you are while he hits so deep inside you that you damn near scream.
Biting down hard enough to leave indents on his bicep and not letting go until he uses his other hand to wrench your head away by your hair with a snarl. Snapping your jaw at him while he stares down with feral blue eyes, "Ye wannae play rough?"
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