Summary: you go to zacks house after promising to help him with some songwriting, but soft glances and softer touches lead to feelings that spill over
Tags: Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Making Out, No Use of [Y/N], Gender Neutral Reader (No Pronouns + Readers Appearance is Not Mentioned), Drabble, One-Shot
Warnings: Light Sexual Content
A/N: this takes place around the early years of RATM, in 1992 when zack is around 20-ish
Word Count: 2.5k (not kidding it's exactly 2,500 lmao)
"So, how was it?"
Zack sat on the living room floor of his studio apartment, surrounded by scattered wide-ruled paper hastily stacked into vaguely organized piles. Some completely filled with writing, others with a word or two that had apparently not been good enough to elicit anything more.
Nothing particularly out of the ordinary. It fit the character, added a bit more charm. The kind found in the graffiti-scrawled bathroom of a local music venue; where the beer tastes like piss, and people are packed into a 600 square foot room like sardines to a tin. In the living room, which by the nature of studios was also his bedroom, a CRT TV stood atop a weathered black shelf. The neck of an all white Jackson guitar leaned against it, strings uncut. CDs lined along the inside, sorted alphabetically by artist and chronologically by album. A few feet in front of it, a coffee table stacked with all types of memorabilia— tour posters that there simply wasn't any room for on the walls, a used plastic bag from the corner store down the street, and empty mugs and plates you'd both been periodically stacking throughout the day. His couch laid back against the wall.
Which is where you were. You sat adjacent to him, cross legged on the sofa, watching as he absentmindedly drummed his pencil on a legal pad. The lead made small dots where it landed. This page was one of the luckier ones; nearly full of his messy handwriting. Lyrics had been written—and rewritten—down as they came to him. Certain verses were circled while others underlined, some crossed out altogether. To anyone else it looked like jumbled nonsense, but it made sense to Zack (and you, to a certain extent).
"Hey," Zack called your name, waving his hand in front of your face.
"Huh?" You blinked, completely forgetting what he'd asked for a second. "Oh, it was good! I liked it."
"That's it?" Zack asked, a blank sort of 'are you serious' expression plastered on his face as he scanned over the paper. "Just liked it?"
"Hey, that's a good thing isn't it?"
"I need people to do more than 'like' my music, you know." His eyes stayed glued to the paper as he spoke.
"I, uh, loved it?"
Zack stopped, hung his head and smiled to himself.
"You're no help at all."
"Hey! You asked me to help, so it's kind of your fault."
It wasn't a lie. He'd invited you over earlier in the evening, when the sun first began to dip below the L.A. city skyline, and shadows elongated with every passing second. You liked to think of yourself as his personal editor, although truthfully you acted as more of a thesaurus. You didn't mind. You considered yourself lucky to see him in this state. Baggy tee and sweats, surrounded by a concoction of his own thoughts. Writing surged through his veins and kept him breathing, and he excelled at it. You'd seen enough of his shows to know. As if a switch flipped in his brain, his persona molded into one of a lyrical guerrilla.
Molded was the wrong word— molded implies copying something, participating in some semblance of meaningless idolatry. He hadn't molded himself into anything. He already was that ungovernable force, it just took a stage to coax it out.
"What time is it?" Zack asked.
"Almost two."
"Fuck me," he sighed and set down his pencil. He raised his arms above his head and stretched; his t-shirt raised with his movement. You caught a glimpse of the small bit of skin that exposed itself.
'How terrible,' you thought, 'falling for your best friend like this.'
Zack finished stretching, and you quickly averted your eyes. He paused for a second, and tilted his head slightly.
Fuck.
"I- uh, I think the song could use a bridge," you deflected.
"...A bridge?"
"Yeah, you know, something there to contrast the verses."
"I know what a bridge is." He picked his pencil back up. "I mean, where would I put it? The song is basically done. If I put it after one of the verses it'll fuck up the flow."
"Put it at the end...?" You replied, although the infliction of your voice made it into more of a question.
"So, the outro?"
"I don't know! Whatever you want to call it, I just feel like it could work." You waited for Zack to make some dry sarcastic quip, but he was back to his notes. You could've distracted him from a car crash with the way he got lost in music, especially his own.
His hands worked quickly. You couldn't make out what he was writing, but you could see they weren't full sentences. More like standalone words, and something near the bottom that seemed to repeat.
"Alright, what about this?" Zack handed the notepad to you.
You skimmed the page, and read the final stanza.
"All of which are American dreams," you whispered, nearly inaudibly.
You looked up at Zack. He folded his arms, hunched ever so slightly, drawing his eyes from the paper to your own.
"It's, uh..." You couldn't contain the stupid smile that plastered your face. "It's perfect."
Zack's face lit up, letting out a relieved 'fuck yes!' Before getting up to envelope you in a bone-crushing hug, that lifted you quite a few inches off of your seat. You could barely get your arms back around him with how tightly he held you, chest pressed around you and arms awkwardly offset from yours (one under, one over). His scent wrapped around you like he did. It clung to your senses; days old cologne, and something else you couldn't quite pinpoint.
If you knew such accidental advice worked this well, you would've done it a long time ago.
Zack let go, still beaming with pride. You handed his notepad back to him, with the slightest crinkle where you held it.
"That's the only other song I needed done. It's finally ready for the studio tomorrow."
You were about to congratulate him, but the last part of his statement tripped you up a bit.
"Tomorrow?" Your eyes narrowed. "You waited until the day before you were supposed to be in the studio to finish writing this song?"
"Yeah, I-I guess." He averted his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck.
"What were you planning on doing if you didn't finish it?"
"I don't know," he shrugged, "probably just postpone the recording date until I finished."
"Are you allowed to do that?"
"Well..." He trailed off, then shook his head. "What are you, my mom?"
"Alright, alright, fine, I'll back off," you sighed. "What studio is it, exactly?"
"Sound City. It's like 40 minutes from here, somewhere off of I-101." He gestured down the street, although you didn't know if that was truly the direction or whether he simply pointed that way to articulate his point.
You stared blankly. "I've never heard of it."
"You're messing with me, right?" Johnny Cash, Elton John...?"
"You expect me, a regular person, to know where Elton John records his music?"
"Alright, fair point... You know," he began, "you can come with me to the studio tomorrow. Check it out."
"Really? I'm not gonna be, like, a distraction or anything?"
"Maybe..." He teased. "But I won't mind, and I don't think the guys'll mind either."
You tried your best to hide the smile threatening to give away your feelings. You cleared your throat, trying to play it cool. Trying, and failing.
"Alright." You shook Zack's hand in a sarcastic over-the-top manner. "It's a date."
"A date," he agreed, and then yawned. "Man, we've been sitting here for, what, three hours now?"
"Just about... Fuck me." You fell back onto the couch, head pointed to the ceiling. Zack sat next to you. "I'm gonna pass out here."
"You alright with me putting something on the TV?" Zack asked, turning his head slightly to just barely face you.
"Go for it."
"It's not gonna keep you up?"
"It will, but I don't mind." You held your hand to your temple, shielding your eyes from the overhead light. "As long as I don't have to use my brain for anything, I'll be good."
"Probably not a first," he joked.
"Excuse me." You played along, letting out a scoff. "Who finished your song for you?"
He shrugged. "I would've come up with it eventually."
"Because you were doing so well on your own."
"I was, I just needed you here for moral support."
"And moral support deserves writing credits." You quipped back.
He shook his head. "Please, you weren't even paying attention half the time."
"Like when?"
"When you were gawking at me."
"I-I," you stumbled, "I was not gawking. I barely even glanced."
"Seemed like a pretty long glance to me." He grabbed the remote off of the table. Somehow he made something as simple as turning on the TV into a cocky display of victory.
"Okay, haha, very funny, you got me." You threw your hands up in a sarcastic surrender.
"It's alright, you don't have to be embarrassed. I understand" — he held his hand to his chest — "that I'm too fuckin' irresistible."
You rolled your eyes. "Sure, whatever," you scoffed.
You turned your attention back to the T.V.; a godsend, surely. The temperature in the room seemed to skyrocket, as your heart beat out of your chest. You fumbled with the bottom hem of your shirt, trying any self-soothing techniques your brain thought of.
"What's on?" You asked.
"Some bullshit F.B.I. show," he replied. "Nothing else on is any good, unless you'd rather watch the home shopping network."
"Copaganda'll work just fine, thanks."
Zack laughed. You adored that laugh. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled, how broad all of his smiles were. Anytime he laughed, it reminded you of all of the things you loved about him— It made you fucking melt.
"Man, they have a million of these damn shows." Zack said, bewildered.
"Probably for psychos who stay up writing song lyrics until two in the morning."
"Shit, I guess there's a market for everything."
The show continued as you settled into your spot, resting your head on Zack's shoulder. A bold move, absolutely, but he didn't mind. At least, he didn't seem to.
Despite lacking blankets, pillows, or pretty much anything to keep someone comfortable watching a show, it was the most relaxed you'd felt in a while. The rhythmic breathing of not just you, but Zack was tranquil. All in the midst of the busiest city in California. Ironic.
So whilst your eyelids got heavier, and your breathing became more mellow, you found yourself drifting off into a calm sleep.
***
"Hey, you awake?"
Zack shook your shoulder lightly. You stirred, your eyes blinking open slowly.
"The, uh, show's over," he spoke, voice barely higher than a whisper. He really didn't have to say it, considering the hum of the T.V. static was the only sound that you could hear. That, and the occasional passing of a car.
"Already?" You groaned, raising your arms in a deep and relieving stretch. "Fuck, I really don't want to move anywhere."
"We don't have to," he shrugged. "We can just stay like this. Talk or something."
"Sounds nice."
Only, neither of you knew what to talk about. For the first time in the entirety of your friendship, you had absolutely nothing to say. Nothing at all. At least nothing you wanted to admit in the early, early morning of a nearing Los Angeles dawn.
"Can I ask you something?" Zack asked, breaking the silence.
So much for nothing to talk about.
"Yeah, sure," you replied.
"I know I was fucking with you earlier, but I just wanted to know if... if you actually thought I was any good-looking."
"...You're seriously asking me that?"
Zack furrowed his brow, about to counter your question, but stopped. He shook his head. "No, you're right. It was a self-involved question."
Fuck. You hadn't meant to sound antagonistic, but the nature of his question was all but naive. It... caught you off guard, to say the least.
"N-no! It," you sighed, "it's not, it's just..."
Zacks arms crossed over his chest. Well, they'd actually been like that for a while, you just hadn't noticed prior. You had now, and you also noticed how he tapped his fingers rhythmically against his opposing upper arm; awaiting your response.
"You're... you just..." You tried to speak, but each time you fell short of a full sentence. "Christ, why is this so fucking hard to say?!" You huffed. "You're... beautiful."
"... Really?" He asked (rather doubtfully).
"Yes!" You let out. "I mean, god, you're probably the most attractive person I know."
Zack laughed, a mix of relief and nerves at the implications of your sentence. "Shit, I don't know what to say. You're... you're pretty beautiful too."
"You know you don't have to say it if you don't mean it." You laughed, dismissively.
"What makes you think I don't mean it?"
"You used the exact same phrase I used, after I told you..." You fidgeted with your fingernails. "...and you paused."
"That doesn't mean I didn't mean it."
"Doesn't it?" You narrowed your eyes.
"Alright," he sat up in his seat and turned towards you. "What if I could convince you I wasn't just bullshitting?"
"You can try," you huffed, and turned your head to the side.
Zack reached to hold the side of your face gently in his palm, and guided you to face him. Your skin was flush in his hand. Your breath hitched in your throat as you did your best to avoid his gaze.
"Hey," he spoke softly, as if reading your thoughts, "look up."
You did as he asked, hesitantly, and before you could meet his eyes he locked you into a kiss. You froze; your world completely turned in on itself, and your mind raced with a million thoughts all crossing you at the same time. As much as you wanted to pull away and give a disheartened lecture on the state of your friendship, all you could think of was how good his lips felt on your own. All of the convincing you needed.
His open hand rested on your thigh, while your hands made their way to his locs. The kiss deepened, as Zack started to loom over you. Your back hit the arm of the couch, suddenly, which managed to make you gasp. A gasp that he took full advantage of. A small moan left your lips, muffled by his own. As much as you wanted to make out with him until you suffocated, you didn't think dying was a particularly smart idea.
You pulled back for a breath of air, and rested your forehead on his; your heavy breathing both synchronized. You stayed like this for a while, not saying anything, until Zack broke the silence.
"So, uh... believe me yet?"
hope you enjoyed !! the ending is kinda rushed a bit, ive been sitting on this fic for ages and finally found the motivation to finish it so i hope you enjoy :>> and if there's any grammatical mistakes i missed, uh, oopsies :p
*tosses my hat on the ground and angrily stomps on it* no luka modric eating pussy fics????? With that nose?????????????? Gentle femdom style bc he seems kinda shy?????????????? You've let me down, tumblrinas
okay i’m deeply sorry idk how much i wil go into the femdom thing because im not sure how to go about writing it … i will try but it might be more subtle than you would like … gulp
*tosses my hat on the ground and angrily stomps on it* no luka modric eating pussy fics????? With that nose?????????????? Gentle femdom style bc he seems kinda shy?????????????? You've let me down, tumblrinas
i think ryan tends to be a very private and shy person around people he doesn't know well
and that bit of his personality CRANKS UP to 11 when he first sees you
i'm talking shaking hands, not wanting to make eye contact with you, blushing and silently panicking when you smile at him for the first time
despite his timidness, when you two get to know each other and start dating, he seems to be a completely different person
he still gets butterflies around you because he will always find you stunning, but instead of hiding from your gaze, he'll go up and hug you from behind or will slip his fingers into yours just so he can be close to you
he will constantly remind you of how much he cares for you, and how happy he is around you
with being so close to ryan, he of course introduces you to the jackass boys
they immediately start teasing him because they notice how whipped he is when he's with you, but it's all in good fun
truthfully, the boys love you and offer to do stunts with you for jackass if you would like
despite all the chaos with the jackass boys in your daily life, it's a different world when you're spending time with ryan alone
i imagine a lot of your date nights would be a quiet night in, completely tangled up in ryan's arms while cuddling on the couch and watching a comfort movie
despite there being a movie on, ryan's the type of person who won't actually watch it but will instead whisper sweet nothings in your ear and focus on his skin touching yours
he has already known he's loved since the day he met you, and he is ecstatic when you both exchange your first 'i love you'
THE END lovelies! <3
thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me!!
Soooo i had an idea 🤭 you said you’d love to write about ryan would you write like little things that turn him on or like smut headcannons??? If you’re uncomfortable with that i totally understand just ignore me lol
Flirting with Ryan HCs!
Ryan Dunn X Fem!Reader
Warnings: Highly suggestive content
An: Thank you so much for the request!! Please keep requesting headcannons! I’ve come to find that I rly enjoy writing them bc they let me get all my ideas out without worrying about word count! :)
It is SO FUN to flirt and mess with Ryan because he’s just so cool about it.
You hang out at the castle all the time, so once in a while you’d see him leaning back on the kitchen counter
You would make up some excuse for having to grab something off of the top shelf behind him, not bothering to ask him to move as you pressed your body against his
And when you got off of your tippy toes he’d smile at you just a little
Or that day you visited him on set in the dead of summer!
You were going to bring him a gift (concert tickets to go see some rock band he liked) to celebrate the first day of shooting on the new movie,
Maybe the summer heat wasn’t the only reason you showed up in those tiny shorts much to the delight of the other guys on set who you ignored, rolling your eyes at their whooping and hollering
But the real kicker was after you eventually found Ryan and you bent over to pick up the envelope that you ‘accidentally’ dropped in front of him
That satisfaction you felt when you heard that low whistle from behind you was indescribable
Though as much as you tease him, Ryan teasers you back two fold
He especially enjoys squeezing past you in crowded places like a busy store or a tight hallway or something,
Playing all innocent and murmuring something about just passing by when in actuality he just likes the physical contact
And of course, so do you
This man will say ANYTHING to make you blush!!
The look on your face when he pulls you aside while you’re out and whispers the filthiest things in your ear just to be all nonchalant while you turn into a blushing mess is priceless!
All of this is to say that your little flirting games go both ways <3
The way he’d be a little quieter than normal when he’s feeling desperate for your attention, trying to get as close to you as possible and wanting for you to press soft kisses to his skin or play with his hair.
He’d have that glazed over look in his eyes, with his pupils all dilated and silently pleading for you to take care of him.
If he’s feeling really overwhelmed he’d get kinda teary and flushed from embarrassment, just needing you to hold him and whisper gentle praises to him for a little while to keep him grounded.
He’d be so precious I can’t even.
He loves when you slip a hand under his shirt to trace over his tattoos, trembling against you when you tease over the heartagram one along his torso.
‘Does that make you hard baby?’
You already know he’s a little brat, but I think there’d be occasions where he’s just so in that headspace and so soft when he’s with you.
He’d have times after a rough day where he feels like he’s slipping under on set, getting close to tears over little things. I think he’d need some time alone with you away from all the commotion to calm down a bit.
Although a lot of your relationship with Bam is kept private, most of the crew can tell when he’s feeling more ‘delicate’ than usual, as they put it. They don’t really mention it but they know to be a little gentler with him if he’s like that.
He gets kinda shy and flustered when you call him ‘honey’ or ‘baby.’ He’d never admit it to you but he loves it when you call him ‘Bambi.’
I think he’d enjoy being degraded and handled rough at times, but for him nothing compares to being softly praised and told he’s a ‘good boy.’
When he’s overstimulated or just feeling particularly overwhelmed, he’d just want to lay back against your chest while you coax him through an orgasm.
He’d burry his head into your neck, whimpering into your skin and bucking his hips up into your fist, unable to control himself. The quiet hitch in his breath when you rub at his tip.
‘You’re ok sweetheart. Shhh.’
He can’t get enough of you tugging and pulling at his hair. He’d let his head fall back from the mix of pain and pleasure while you suck dark bruises into his neck.
The sight of his skin littered in marks would just be… god.
Bam is such a pillow princess. I don’t make the rules. He’d lay there with his eyes glassy and his cheeks tinted pink, letting out soft whimpers and the occasional ‘please’ while he clutches onto your hand.
He goes quiet when you call him pretty, not wanting you to know how much it affects him.
Thigh grinding. I mean there’s no words. He’d have such a thing for getting himself so desperate and worked up to the point of needing to rut against you. He’d let his head lull forward onto your shoulder while he rolls his hips and moans all breathy.
The way he’d cry when he’s getting close, tears rolling down his cheeks and trembling at the feeling. You’d let your tongues roll together, biting at his bottom lip and letting him whine into your mouth.
‘You gonna cum honey?‘
The image of him trembling and shaking in your arms, choking on whimpers as falls over the edge… bye. You’d whisper quiet praises to him and kiss at the tears on his cheeks, letting him come down from everything.
The sight of him all flushed and wrecked, the only sound being his little hiccups. I’m done.
summary: you have a moment with Chris on the set of Wildboyz
warnings: none, just a LOT of fluff!
word count: ~600
please enjoy!
As an assistant videographer for Wildboyz, your job takes you to incredible places. From Argentina and Australia to South Africa and New Zealand, it's safe to say you never had much time to relax. However, no matter how easy it was to be homesick, it was comforting to have your friends with you the entire time. Especially Chris, but you didn't know why. Despite being so close to everyone on set, your relationship with him felt different. Of course, you'd never verbalize this.
For this particular episode of the show, the whole cast is in Brazil on their way to perform their next stunt, which just so happened to be holding a big-ass tarantula. Despite tensions being high because of the impending, probably very dangerous, stunt about to be performed by the boys, Chris was in relatively high spirits. You witness the brunette boy bounding over to you with a grin on his face stretching ear to ear. "Hey, Y/N! Are you gonna be in the stunt today?" He asks, throwing his arm atop your shoulders.
You rolled your eyes and shoved his forehead away from you playfully, causing him to drop his arm from your shoulders. "Definitely fucking not," you respond, chuckling slightly.
Chris soon gives you puppy-dog eyes and sticks out his lip slightly, and you have to catch yourself from staring too long. "Aw, come on. It's always so much more fun when you're involved in the stunts with us," he remarks, gesturing to the set around him that you were about to start filming on.
You tilt your head to the left slightly, considering the possibility that if you give in to the stunt, you'll be holding a giant fucking tarantula. "I'm really sorry, Chris," you start, beginning to twist the rings on your fingers. "I'm just too fucking terrified of spiders to be in this one."
Not long after, Chris replaces his frown with a slight mischievous smirk. He then takes a couple steps closer to you, shortening the gap between you to a meager six inches. "Well, I can always protect you," he says, licking his lips for only a second, but you had already noticed.
You sarcastically chuckle, responding with, "You can certainly try."
Suddenly, a hand lands on Chris's shoulder, turning him around to face a very nervous Steve-O. "Are you sure we have to do this, dude? Spiders freak me out a lot," he says.
"Well, it'll be funny," Chris says, shrugging his shoulders and giving Steve-O a giant grin.
"Asshole," Steve-O mutters, walking away. "We're starting in five, by the way!"
Chris soon turns back to you, looking you straight in the eyes without faltering. You bite the inside of your cheek slightly, feeling nervous about how intently the long-haired man is looking at you.
"Well," you start, looking up at Chris through your lashes, "Want a kiss for good luck?"
Chris's typical laid-back expression soon blossoms into a rosy blush on his cheeks, and he giggles. "Only if you want to give me one," he admits, his eyes widening as he seemed almost surprised at his response.
Without another word, you slowly reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. "Good luck," you quietly whisper in his ear, and give him a lingering kiss on his heated cheek. You pull back, releasing your arms. "Please don't die, dummy," you joke, walking towards Rick to signal you're ready to start filming.
What you don't see, however, is the flustered man behind you, bringing his calloused hand slowly up to where you pressed a kiss on his face while in complete awe of you.
This is in response to an anon request I got asking for a tantric sex smut with Josh. I hope you can’t tell how little I know about tantric sex aside from the smut I’ve read on this godforsaken hell-site, but hey I had fun and I bet you will too! Also, I googled harem pants to see if they were what I thought they were called and now it's the only ad I get on instagram now so that’s cool.
Synopsis:
After so many relationships and sexual partners, you just can’t seem to find any real release, well, that’s until you met Dr. J.M.K.
Word count: 8.1K (some light reading)
WARNING: 18+ Minors DNI, smut but make it Dr. J.M.K, tantric sex, swearing, raw doggin' (wrap it before you tap your spiritual psychology teacher).
Pairing: Dr. J.M.K x female reader
I love hearing from all of you and what you think of my writing. Let me know what you’d like to see, any requests or if you would like to be added to my taglist for future stories! Love y’all!
“Straighten your back for me, little dove.” Your heart flutters at the name, at the whispered tone behind you, at the warmth of his breath against your neck, at the feeling of the tender touch on your lower back, at the goosebumps that raise on the skin beneath your top. You sit up straight, just as he requested. He meets your eyes with a satisfied smile, one that says, “There ya go.” as your spiritual healing teacher walks off to attend to his other pupils. You suppress a small grin to yourself, closing your eyes as he continues the guided meditation he was leading his class through. Lots of things led you to Dr. J.M.K’s door: a new city, a new stressful job, an emotional breakup, but mainly, it was the inability to quiet your own mind. You were never good at sitting still, you liked the hustle and bustle of your corporate job, but lately you’ve had trouble turning your brain off. I guess it’s true what they say, the only good thing about a job you don’t care about is that you don’t have to think about work when you clock out. But you love your job, and you don’t wanna mess it up, but you cannot keep being a walking google calendar of everything you know you need to do. So, here you were, searching for a fresh start.
The room was scented with nag champa smelling incense cones, a warm glow settled on the room from the sunset peaking through the stained glass windows. Glass in the shapes of the sun against the blue sky, in the shapes of flowers and trees nestled into the glass, inviting the light to shine through it. The class was small, made of maybe eight other people, it was always a nicely intimate occasion. Josh, as he liked to be called, was a beautiful man, warm brown eyes that hid behind round wire glasses, skin that always looked dewy and fresh, adorned with a delicate mustache and trimmed goatee, brown curly hair that had a warm glow that made him look like he wore a halo of golden sun when he walked through the room, simply put, he looked himself to be made of the sweet words he spoke. He spoke with an almost old fashioned midwestern accent, a raspy cadence you had never heard before or since.
“Breathe in, deep. Let it fill you, hold it like a delicate bird in a cage.” Josh spoke softly, his voice traveling as he paced slowly around the class, checking to ensure his students took in his meditation as they needed, adjusting them kindly when he saw it. You took in a breath, allowing the day to roll off of your shoulders, like water flowing off a duck's back. “Now, release the bird, exhale, set it free.” he instructed, the sound of a collective breath from the class floated into the air at his command. He contained a perfectly calming presence, but lately you were drifting from his guided meditations, instead you kept imagining Josh’s fingers on your skin, the way his breath would warm your skin when he would come up behind you and subtly adjust your posture or your breathing. You couldn’t help yourself, you were not dealing with the single life well. You missed sex, intimacy, physical affection at the very least. Not like your sex life before was great, you hadn’t cum with a partner in so long you started to worry maybe you didn’t even know how to without being the one in control. You were also brought to Dr. J.M.K’s class because he was also a licensed sexual therapist, as well as being a teacher in spiritual psychology, so who else could you go to for help. You had been attending these classes for a few months now and you were still warming up to the idea of asking Josh for a consultation, you just wanted to test out the waters first, to see if you liked him, to see how you felt about talking to a total stranger about your sex life.
You shook your head as you cleared your thoughts, focusing on Josh’s words. “Like the majestic eagle, imagine yourself flying high above the clouds. Weightless, free, nothing to tether you to the world below.” His voice was so soft, the light rasp that carried in his voice tingled your spine, you took a deep breath in through your nose and released it through your mouth, letting the weight of it all tumble off of you like rocks in a landslide. The feeling of your weightlessness is fleeting as you feel the tugging of your busy mind pulling you back into the room, you just can’t stop thinking of the way the clothes on your body are touching you, the way the air conditioner hums in the background, and the way you can’t stop adjusting in your seat. After a few more minutes of Josh’s guided meditation, everyone begins to put their cushions away to their respective places, chatting with each other on their way out or talking with Josh, thanking him for another relaxing session. You hang back and admire a mobile hanging in the corner by the large window. Beautiful pieces of sea glass, petrified wood and sea shells suspended by string, delicately twirling and soaking in the light from the setting yellow sun. You were happy with your session, but just couldn’t stop thinking about how you weren’t able to focus fully. Your frustration within yourself was like torture, the nagging feeling of being unable to let go and be in the moment is something you can’t remedy alone.
“Captivating, hm?” That familiar voice asks, his sudden presence startling you. You turn to face him, slack jawed and eyes wide with surprise, no time like the present right? “Y-yes, it’s beautiful.” You say, smiling awkwardly at your attempt to come off naturally. “I bought it from a merchant while I was abroad, it’s said that sea glass is believed to be tears of heartbroken mermaids, washed ashore to make her lover return to her.” He smiled wistfully at the frosted glass. You pondered the myth, if only the tears you shed were as beautiful. “Oh I uh, I wanted to thank you for such a lovely session tonight.” You stammered, searching for the right way to start. “I’m flattered, but I was actually hoping to speak with you after class.” He smiled a knowing smile, your expression faltered, you were never good at holding back your feelings from reaching your face. “Oh?” is all you can say. “Come, let's speak in my office.” Josh suggests, spinning on his heel towards the door to his office. You follow him in as he holds the door open for you, a gesture you appreciate with a smile as he gives you an acknowledging nod. The room is comfortable, unlike the coldness of an office at all. Dimly lit with a warm vintage looking lamp, a table with an unlit backflow incense burner, a plush rug, tapestries and posters from Woodstock adorn the walls. A yellow velvet chair, an emerald green couch, more cushions, a shelf of psychology books, some books on meditation, far away places, books on human sexuality, the Kama Sutra even. Josh makes his way to the velvet chair, sitting down and offering a hand to gesture to you to take a seat on the couch.
You oblige, sitting nervously, while you make a poor attempt at smiling like a person who wasn’t anxious would. “You seem tense.” “Oh, yeah, sorry. I just wanted to know why you asked me into your office.” “No my dear, I meant, during class. You seemed restless.” You blushed at the embarrassment of your answer, you knew you were having trouble in class today but you didn’t think anyone could tell. “I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.” You illude, not wanting to dump all of your baggage on your teacher. “Tell me, what’s got you so flustered?” Josh asks, hands loosely interlaced over his lap as he leans forward with genuine interest. You grow hot, how do you tell your teacher that he is one of the many thoughts racing in your insatiable mind? You clear your throat and sit up straight, thinking of Josh’s earlier suggestion on your posture. “I work a very intense corporate job, um, I’ve just moved to the city so I’ve been pretty, uh, alone, which has been hard. And I’ve just gotten out of a fairly long relationship.” You timidly answer, his brow is knitted together as he thinks over what you’ve just said, he looks at you as though you hadn’t finished talking, as though you still had something to say. You blush, can he really see through you that easily? You decide to fill the air with noise, thinking maybe it will ease his expression, “I’m sorry if I’ve been such a distraction during sessions-” “No, no not at all. I just have been wondering how I can best help you.” He says kindly as he looks to you, searching for the words. You clench your jaw as you decide to come clean, why you came to his class in the first place. “I want to tell you something.” You voice, hoping you won’t sound as awkward as you feel, Josh perks his head up to you, looking gently to you for your question. “I actually found your meditation class when I was searching for a sex therapist.” You bow your head a bit in shame, it feels so odd to admit outloud when you had never even told anyone else outside of your internet search bar. He hums in response, “Ah, I see. Now that I can assist with. What seems to be the problem, dearest?” Josh leans back against the velvet chair, head tilting to the side as he looks you over. You squirm in your seat on the couch, hands gripping at the material beneath, biting nervously at your bottom lip. “Don’t be ashamed to say what’s on your mind. It’s a very vulnerable topic that exposes our innermost selves, so I can see why you’re shy to come and ask for help. But just know, I would never judge you, that’s what I’m here for.” Josh says softly, his brown eyes sparkling, he has such a sweet and trusting face, of course you could tell him anything.
Taking in a deep breath, you muster the words to speak. “I’ve been very… unsatisfied. In many of my recent relationships, I have noticed that I cannot-” You pause, looking to Josh to give you permission to say what you are about to say, he only tilts his head. “-cum with a partner, unless, um, I do it myself. I’m starting to feel broken, like I’m just not wired right?” You can feel your eyes begin to well up with tears, the feeling of admitting your innermost shame being out in the air stung. Josh could only give you a look of pity before standing and coming to your side, sitting next to you on the couch beside you. He gently rests his hand on yours, his hand feels so warm against your own. You look up at him shyly, nervous to meet his gaze. “I’m sure that’s been very painful for you. It’s not easy to be so open like this, I appreciate your honesty.” He takes your hand in his own, running his thumb over the back of your hand, looking into your eyes with a tenderness that makes you melt, you have to look away in fear that you may actually cry. “I want you to look at me when I tell you this.” Josh nudged softly, you look up, your eyes still brimming with tears. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with the way you are or the way you’re feeling. Lots of people have trouble letting go, it’s hard to allow yourself to be at the mercy of another person. But I’ll also have you know, you’ve come to the right place.” Josh smiles sweetly, it’s an infectious smile you can’t help but mimic. Your stomach does a flip, thinking about how Josh, the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid your eyes on and more than once had fantasized about, was going to help you.
“I just can’t seem to stay in the moment, to just tune it all out and focus. I feel like I’m going crazy without any real release.” You say with a huff, tilting up to stare at the ceiling. Josh’s hand gives yours a squeeze, bringing you back to look back at him. “I understand completely, when you go so long without reaching that place of peace and incredible sensation, we become so insatiable, looking for that relief.” As he speaks he leans closer to you, his eyes are hypnotizing, the sound of his voice is intoxicating. “I can take care of you, little dove.” His breath ghosts over your lips, he’s so close now, you can already feel yourself starting to pool between your legs at just the proximity, at just the sensation of his eyes and voice solely trained on you. You can’t help but let your eyes travel to his lips, so soft and pink looking, he’s even more stunning up close. He allows his eyes to look to your lips just before snapping his eyes back to yours. “Do you want me to touch you?” He whispers, the air is so thick, you can’t remember the last time you felt such a delicious tension between you and someone else. You simply nod, “I want to hear you say it. Say what you need.” He rasps, the soft command making your heart skip a beat. “I want you to touch me, please.” You whisper, the sound of your voice nearly cracking with need. “Very good, dove.” Josh praises, a smile on his lips as he moves his hand to your cheek, taking you softly to his lips. The feeling of his lips on yours makes you breathe deep, wanting to take in the feel of his lips, the way they hold yours so softly, the way his breathing feels against yours, how gently his hands holds your face against his palm. You open your mouth to give him permission to slip his tongue inside, you can’t hold back the breathy moan that comes from you and echoes in his own mouth, he smiles into the kiss, you move your hand to his thigh, your other hand still held in Josh’s. He tastes sweet, like chai and cinnamon, the heat from his thigh radiates into your fingertips and you can’t help the giddy feeling bubbling in your chest. Your fantasy was coming true.
He breaks the kiss and you can’t help but feel lost without his lips on yours, like being in the cold without a coat. “Follow me, let’s get you more comfortable.” Josh stands, offering you his hand, you look up at him with big doe eyes and take his hand in yours, leading you to a room down a hallway that was shielded by a beaded curtain. Josh opens the door to reveal a room that looked to be dedicated to his sex therapy practice. A beautiful canopy bed nestled against the center of the back wall, the rest of the room was well decorated, less books and papers around, mainly a calming space that would best fit the clients he worked with. Sex is a very daunting subject to approach without the fear of feeling as though you were at the doctors office, too cold and sterile feeling. This room felt safe, warm and comfortable, sweet smelling from the lavender, rosemary, eucalyptus and sage branches that hung around drying in bundles. Soft rugs, warm lamps, chairs and cushions furnished the room, along with a table near the window full of crystals that lay charging in the sunlight, as well as a large wooden cabinet in the corner near the bed.
Josh turns to you as you both stop in the middle of the room, he takes both of his hands in your own, thumbs running over the tops of your hands gently. “Before we begin, I want you to know that at any point if you want to stop you need only ask. No judgment, no shame. You are always at liberty to leave if you wish, I only want to be at your service. To give you only what you are looking for.” He explained, his voice was steadfast and sure, wanting only to gain your trust and confidence. You take a note in your head from earlier with a verbal reply, “I understand.” You say confidently, Josh nods his head with a smile. His eyes scan your body, his hands running up your arms and resting on your shoulders, “Now, I want you to undress for me.” He requested softly, his voice making you at ease just as much as it excited you. You look up at him through your lashes, a look of innocence plastered on your face, you were finally going to feel Josh all over your skin. “Or dress down to whatever feels comfortable if you’d rather.” He offered, hoping to offer up anything to help with any worries you may have, but lucky for you, this was the easy part, foreplay was always the most exciting part about sex for you, it was the act itself where your challenges laid. You looked him in the eyes as you pulled your tank top over your head, dropping it to the floor below, looking away only to slide your harem pants down your legs, leaving you only in your underwear. You don’t say a word as you tilt your head to the side and look at Josh with the sweetest doll eyes you can muster as your hands sneak behind your back and unclasp your bra, adding it to the pile of clothes at your feet. Josh shows almost no reaction, trying hard to stay professional, but you catch him swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing, his eyes wandering only for a moment. You finally pull down your panties, leaving you totally nude in front of a totally dressed Josh, lips parted as he takes in your naked form. You can’t help but smile a devilish smile as he looks you over, “Does this work for you?” you ask softly, moving your hands behind your back coyly, giving him full access to your body, a blush creeping across Josh’s face. His breath hitches in his throat as he searches for the words to say next. “Perfect.” He rasps, coming just close enough to you to run the back of his index finger up your arm, feeling your soft skin beneath.
“Take my hand.” He says, extending his hand to you, you take it, smiling to yourself at the fact that you’ve been holding his hand so much. It’s funny, you are fully naked in front of the man you’ve on more than one occasion touched yourself thinking about, in a situation where he is going to help you learn to cum with a sexual partner and you’re giddy over a simple few moments where he has held your hand? Maybe you had deeper feelings for Josh than you thought. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze as he leads you to the bed, “Lie down, on your back.” He commands, tone still tender but leading. You lay on top of the white duvet, it’s thick and soft against your bare skin, the air of the room feels warm on your body, like you were exactly where you should be.
Josh sits beside you, looking down into your eyes. “I want to lead you through a session of tantric sex. Its the practice of slow, intimate and purposeful sex, to help you stay mindful of your body. To edge you slowly towards your orgasm without rushing to your climax. To simply enjoy the feeling of your body. Is that something you’re comfortable doing with me?” He explains, you had never done anything like this before, it sounds nice, gentle, and definitely what the doctor ordered. You look to Josh, his eyes scanning your face for an answer. “I think I’d like that very much.” You whisper truthfully to him. He gives you a satisfied expression, a grateful smile on his face. “I’ll be talking you through the entire experience. I don’t want you to hold any question, thought, feeling or sound back, whatever you are experiencing, let it flow through you. I’ll be by your side the whole way through. Remember, if you ever feel uncomfortable or unsure, please tell me right away.” The way he speaks is so gentle and candid, his voice always brings you such peace.
“I will.” “You promise?” Josh asks, lifting his eyebrows and giving you a grin that makes you giggle, “I promise.” you chuckle out, holding out your pinkie finger to him, he takes it and wraps his own pinkie around it, you both squeeze tight, sharing a little laugh between you. The moment felt too innocent before what you knew was to happen next, but it was sweet, he made you feel safe. “First I want you to just breathe with me, this is an important step between partners. I want your breathing to synchronize with mine.” Josh’s hands fall to the hem of his white long sleeve shirt, taking it off and over his head, letting it fall to the floor by the bed. “Here.” he says as his hand takes your wrist, pulling it up to his chest right over his heart. Your eyes widen at the feeling of his bare skin under your palm, his skin has a soft tan, a lightly toned physique, and arms that are rippled with muscle. “Is this okay?” he asks sweetly. You blink up to look away from his chest and to his eyes, “Yes.” “Good. Now I’m going to place my hand on your heart.” He narrates as he lets his hand come and rests gently on your chest just above your left breast, you pray he can’t tell how fast your heart is racing under his touch. His eyes flit to yours as he smiles. Fuck, he definitely knows. “Now breathe in deep, like I taught you.” “Like a bird in a cage.” You say, repeating his words from class, “Just like that.” He whispers, you take a deep breath and Josh follows your lead, you hold the air in, deep in your chest, your hand on his skin raising as he breathes, his heart fluttering softly against your skin. You exhale, the sound of your breaths drifting into the air above makes you feel more at peace, a little bit, but you like the feeling of knowing Josh is here in this moment with you, breathing in sync, like one being. You continue this routine until you two are only looking into eachothers eyes and breathing together without having to think about the pattern of your breath.
The air goes silent as you two gaze into eachothers eyes, almost forgetting what you were doing here. “Why do you call me little dove?” you break the silence, never looking away from his warm eyes. He laughs a little under his breath, his heart picks up the pace a bit under your palm, you’ve got him pinned. “The first time I helped you adjust your breathing during class, when I knelt beside you and put my hand over your chest, telling you to focus only on your breathing, your heart felt like it was racing against my hand, the way a bird's heart would.” Josh explains, his voice dripping in sensuality. You felt a blush creep into your cheeks, you parted your lips unsure of what to say. So he’s known how you feel for a while then? No use in hiding it now. You feel his heart beating against your own hand, its fluttering. You take note and smile shyly up at him. “Like this?” You whisper as you adjust your hand on his chest, thumb running over the skin of his chest, he smiles softly, bringing his hand to hold yours flushed against his chest. “Just like this.” He whispers back, voice faltering as he gazes into your eyes.
Josh leans down to you, your hand sliding away from his chest and down to your side, his curls hanging and tickling your forehead, his lips are just a kiss away, your breath hitches as you can feel how close he is to you. “Close your eyes for me, little dove.” You smile at him and your nickname and oblige him by closing your eyes. “I want you to remain aware of your breathing, to focus on the way your body feels. Let yourself melt into the sensation.” His voice is soft as he talks to you, his hand on your chest starts to drift away from you, you feel a shift on the bed as he gets up and walks away. You hear the sound of cabinet doors open and soon close followed by his feet padding back to the bed as he comes back to you. “Focus on the way your body reacts to the touch of this feather.” He says as you can feel the gentle touch of a feather brush against your collarbone. “Think about what you’re feeling, where you are right now.” The feather glides between the valley of your breasts, down slowly on to the soft plane of your belly, sliding up your ribs as you let out a sigh. “Know that you are safe here with me, that you can ask for anything you desire without judgment.” He continues softly, his hand runs the feather down to your hip, swirling in a figure eight that brings wetness between your legs. You smile at the feeling, “You like that, dove?” You can’t see his face but you can hear the grin on his face at his question. You nod, biting your bottom lip between your teeth. He slips the feather down your leg and right back up your other leg, dancing the instrument on your thigh, slinking up to your inner thigh. He brings the feather softly up your thigh until he’s so close to where you want his attention the most, you breathe in deeply. “I can feel how badly you want it.” Josh teases, you giggle, “You have no idea.” you huff out in frustration. He brings the feather up and swirls it around your nipples, taking slow rotations on each breast. You hold in a breathy moan that rumbles in the back of your throat. “Don’t hold it back mama, let it out. I want to hear how good you feel.” His voice with that same sweet tone of authority, “Yes, doctor.” You moan in response as the delicate feather softly caresses the swell of your breast with such ease and tenderness. He lifts the feather from your skin, you nearly whine at the feeling of the lack of attention on your skin. “Let’s really work your senses, hm?” Josh says, his voice hanging in the air with no response from you.
The sound of him walking across the room takes you by surprise, what did he mean by that? The clinking of a glass makes your mind race with all sorts of possibilities. The feeling of his body on the bed nearly made you jump, pulling you out of your thoughts. “I want you to remain attentive of your body, the way the sensation makes you feel.” His tender voice instructs, you have no clue what to expect. You jolt at the sudden cold touch on the very center of your sternum, a gasp leaving your lips. “Just a cube of ice darling, it won’t hurt you.” Josh soothes, as he rolls the ice down the valley of your breasts, sitting just below your ribs. “I want you to imagine yourself as a star, burning in the vastness of space. You are beautiful, celestial, powerful, you are invincible.” His voice feels so comforting from your familiar meditation sessions, taking your mind up and away from this plane of reality and creating your own in your mind, feeling the coolness against your skin not as ice, but as an extension of yourself. “Imagine this ice cube is your power, surging through your body. Feel it melt against the heat of your skin so effortlessly, leaving a river running through you in its wake, focus on it’s path.” Josh continues, running the melting cube up your side, gliding over your collarbone, slipping down your breast, you gasp at the icy presence against your hardened nipple. He allows his fingers to run the ice over the bud, eliciting a moan from you. “Your body is so powerful, you are truly a goddess. You rule all of the dominion of your own body, only you can bring it such pleasure, just as much as you can allow yourself to let go of the Earthly things around you and let someone make you feel worshiped and adored.” You sigh at his beautiful words, a true poet and romancer.
You could feel a delicious contrast in your body start to take place, the warmth between your thighs and the icy cold of Josh’s presence over you. He rolls the melting cube over your other nipple, a soft breathy groan falling from your lips. “Give yourself over to pure ecstasy, it cries out to you like a siren’s song. Let it wash over you, welcome it with no inhibitions or doubts, fall into the pleasure that calls out your name.” He runs the nearly melted cube up your neck, your pulse beneath melting it completely away, leaving Josh’s hand to cup your cheek. You open your eyes to him looking right down into your own, you feel like your body is humming with anticipation, you feel wetter than you’ve ever been before. He slides his chilled fingertips down your side, a whisper of goosebumps appearing in his wake. His hand slides over your pubic bone, fingertips slipping between your core, you gasp at the presence of his fingers, the feeling of your heat mixing devilishly with the coolness of his digits. “Give yourself over to me.” He whispers, your eyes widening for just a moment from the shock of his touch, you couldn't look away from him even if your life depended on it.
His eyes searched yours, looking as you felt the heat from your core melt the coldness that lingered on his skin. He ran his fingers up your dripping center, until he rested them lightly over your clit. You moaned at the intoxicating feeling of his energy against yours, brows knit in pleasure. He took in your reaction with a look of great interest, he let his eyes wander over your flushed face, over your body and the trail of water he had drawn over your skin from the coldness of the ice, a droplet of water rolling delicately running down the swell of your breast from the movement of your breathing. He seems so enraptured by the picture of you beneath him, a work of art upon the bed. He reaches over to the bedside table to the glass of ice cubes, taking one in his hand and holding it over you. He brings the cube and runs it slowly along your bottom lip, he runs it gently over the tender skin then moves to replicate the motion over your top lip. He gently moves his free hand to cup your jaw, indicating a request to open your mouth. You open your mouth to him, he gently places the small melting cube on your tongue, a subtle squeeze of his hand allowing you to close your mouth. “Breathe. Feel the heat of your tongue melt the ice to water, let it run down your throat.” Josh instructs cooly, his hand sliding down to rest gently on your throat. It melts quickly, you swallow the cool water, the feeling of the motion of your muscles under Josh’s palm makes him smirk as he brings his hand back to your cheek, he gazes sweetly into your eyes. “Good girl.” He whispers, his praise burning your cheeks.
He looks down to your tinged lips, reddened slightly from the coldness of the ice that ran over them just a moment ago. Josh dips his head down to you, his lips hovering just above yours, you tilt your chin up to him, a smirk flashing over his lips just before finally succumbing to your kiss. The feeling of his warm lips on your cold ones made you swoon, he felt so perfect against your mouth, he opened his mouth to you allowing you to slide your tongue inside, rolling it alongside his warm tongue, melting the cold away from you, it feels as though you’re thawing under him. He holds your face in his hands as he kisses you, you peek through your lashes in the kiss, watching his masterful lips against yours, you close your eyes to try to cement that memory deep in your mind. Swiftly Josh moves to be on top of you, his knee moves to place himself at your center, you jolt at the sudden pressure. You begin to lose yourself, forgetting what Josh had taught you, you were busy wrapped up underneath Josh and his warm kisses to think. You buck your hips against his clothed thigh, a breathy moan escaping your lips at the feeling between your legs. Josh pulls back, his thumb running gently running over your cheek, “So impatient.” He chides at your neediness, your brows knit, your mouth open to complain as he pulls his knee away. “Don’t rush towards pleasure, let it come to you.” Josh says wisely, moving back towards the glass of ice, taking a cube and popping it into his mouth. He moves back over your naked body, his dulled nails softly raking up your sides, his hands now resting on your hips, he leans down and plants soft yet chilled kisses on your stomach, slowly oh so slowly down to your hips and finally the skin of your inner thighs. You inhale a shaky breath, he’s so close now, you think you may just come from the sight of him meeting your eyes, his hands softly resting on either thigh, curls adorning his beautiful face. “I want you to focus on the feeling, how it makes you feel. I don’t want you to hold back. I am wholly here for your pleasure.”
You can only nod your answer, he gives your thigh one last kiss, making sure to hold your eyes as he did before finally dipping to where you wanted him most. His tongue running a languid stripe up your slit, you immediately groan at the sensation, his tongue so cold yet his breath so warm on your dripping pussy. The feeling unlike anything you had ever felt before, his cool tongue mixed with your warmth took you to a higher place, feeling angelic and light in your body, feeling as though Josh’s hands on your thighs were all that was keeping you from floating off the bed and to the stars above. You're a panting mess, your mouth lazed open from the feeling of pure euphoria bubbling up throughout your entire anatomy. His tongue still moving slowly had finally fully melted against you, leaving the delightful feeling of his tongue against you. He began to kitty lick the surface of your clit, you moaned out his name without a drop of shame. The increased pace he had found dissolved back to his slow movement, the change in tempo and temperature was breathtaking. You ball the white duvet in your fists, the feeling of your climax was there, you giggled in pure joy between moans, you were going to finally fucking do it. You tried to resist the urge to tighten your thighs around Josh but decided not to fight it, he groaned against your center, the vibration only turning you on further. You look down to Josh, he looks more angelic than usual, even in this most sinful act, he was still doing the work of a saint. His eyes meet yours, so full of surety and confidence, he practically oozes it settled between your legs, he knows he has you right at heaven’s gate. He smirks to himself then wraps his lips around your clit, and that's all it takes to send you crashing into your orgasm. You throw your head back against the pillows, moaning and groaning, cursing and screaming Josh’s name as he continues to lap his tongue against you. The feeling of your climax is so intense you feel as though you could explode into pure starlight, creating a new galaxy all your own. But Josh never slows his tongue, he pulls you through your climax and then even further, “Oh fuck, oh Josh that feels so good.” You cry out, your hands trying desperately to stay hooked into the sheets but the sensation is so good you want to feel Josh even closer to you. He lays a flat tongue against your clit, your hips bucking instinctually as he pulls you through your oversensitivity in your core and to your second orgasm. “Fuck, oh no fucking way.” You grunt, the idea of cumming again so quickly has your head spinning, you could hardly ever cum once with a partner and Josh can make you cum twice from just his mouth?! You have got to find better guys.
“I’m gonna- oh holy shit-” Your curse cut off by the second wave of your climax, you bolt straight up, watching Josh work beneath you, eyes closed in concentration, tongue stroking against your clit in just the right way, his thumbs massaging your thighs at the skin he has trapped under his large palms. You can no longer hold your hands back, you allow yourself to weave your fingers into Josh’s hair, tangling and pulling softly at his roots, giving subtle pressure against his head as a plea to work you through your climax. He does so with pleasure, you can’t even make a sound as your orgasm pulses through you, you fall back onto the pillows, finally able to find your breath and voice again at the release. Josh rises from his position, leaning back on his heels, his lips and chin coated in your arousal, cheeks look as though they were sunkissed from the redness that adorned his face. You can only look at him and sigh, trying to find your breath, you smirk at him before letting your head fall back to stare at the ceiling of the canopy bed, a stupidly huge grin on your face. “Fuck.” Is all you can muster, Josh chuckles at your reaction, he crawls up your body, hovering just above your face. “I want you to kiss me, see how beautiful you taste.” Josh whispers, his words already making you wet again.
You pull him to you, his lips taste like your wetness mixed with his own taste, his tongue exploring your mouth is so erotic you pull him by his waist to feel him on top of you. You let your hands rake over his skin, your nails sliding with just enough pressure that elicits a moan from Josh. The kiss deepens, his hand pushing back loose strands of hair behind your ear, making a clear path for his lips to come down to the sensitive skin of your neck. You let your hand cradle the back of his head as he kisses your neck, pressing him to you. “Please, fuck me Josh.” you moan, Josh looks up from the crook of your neck. “You can’t get enough, huh?” he smirks at you, “I have waited so long to feel how you just made me feel.” “Let’s just call this, one for good measure.” Josh smiles before kissing you hard, you sit up, bringing him up with you. Your hands fly to his pants, tugging at the belt on his white pants, his hands scrambling to take them off, pulling them down and tossing them aside, leaving him only in his briefs.
You palm him through the thin material, he moans pulling away from your kiss, laying you back against the bed. “You’re so hard.” You whisper, looking up into his eyes, now darkened from lust. “You were soaked when I first touched you.” His words sound so dirty, the rasp and passion lacing his voice, abandoning his usual poetic and flowery speech from class and your earlier session. “Let's just say, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” You say pulling his hands to cup your breasts, “Good to know I’m not alone.” Josh divulges, he slides down your body, taking your nipple into his mouth, the feeling immediately making your back arch. You let your hand wander down to his hair, pressing him closer to you, allowing your touches to be a little more fervent in your motions than before. You slide a hand down his waist, landing on the waistband of his briefs, tugging at it breathlessly, he pulls his lips from your body and looks to you, you only whine in response, praying he can read your mind, or at the very least your body language. He gets the hint, sitting up on his heels, a hard outline of his cock evident behind the thin fabric. You allow your eyes to linger on him, the feeling of your obvious yearning makes Josh smirk. “You ready, dove?” His voice low and grovely, you nod your head in excitement. “Use your words, remember what I said, tell me what you need, darling.” His prodding makes you blush as you think of how to say the next sentence. “I want to feel you inside me, doctor.” You say in the most innocent voice you could summon for a request so filthy. His eyes brighten, a grin playing on his face at you calling him by his title, you think back to when you said it earlier, wishing you could go back in time and peek your eyes open to catch his reaction. “Good girl.” His voice is so seductive and tempting as he pulls down his briefs, tossing them aside.
You gawk at his dick, he had everything you wanted and more. Is it possible for a penis to look beautiful? Because that is truly the only word you could use to describe it. He positions himself at your center, sliding his hard cock through the wetness of your folds, he already feels perfect. You both moan at the contact, his brows knit and jaw hanging as he pushes into you. Slowly filling you up until he bottoms out inside of you, he pauses giving you a moment to adjust. “This is what you imagined during class?” he asks, voice trying hard not to falter at the feeling of you wrapped around him. “Too many times.” You say with a grin, he chuckles under his breath, taking in the sight of you. “So beautiful.” He whispers as he moves in for a kiss, he deepens the kiss and begins to slowly thrust into you. The slower tempo feels incredible, like Josh explained earlier, the act of sex is the point, not just racing to the climax. It feels so intimate, the slow tender thrusts, the sounds of your collective inhales and exhales melded in a perfect melody you wish you could bottle up and keep forever.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” You moan, your words feeling drawled out as they roll off your tongue, his tip pressing up against your sweet spot repeatedly now. That familiar pressure in your stomach begins to churn, you can’t believe it. A draught of orgasms during sex and here you were hurdling towards your third climax of the night. You let your eyes roll back as Josh slightly increases the tempo, his hand on your hip with just the perfect grip on your flesh keeps your mind focused, the bounce of his curls as he thrusts, the look of his now rosy cheeks all keeping you in the moment. “Feels so good for me.” Josh pants out as you tighten around him, his hand abandons your waist as he brings his hand to your face, cupping your cheek. “Such an obedient student.” His words alone make you feel so much pleasure, his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. He presses his thumb into your open mouth while gently holding your face, you oblige and wrap your lips around his thumb, letting your tongue dance against him. Josh lets out a groan as you look up at him through your lashes. He removes his thumb from your mouth as he slides his hand between your bodies, circling your clit with his thumb now covered in your saliva. A groan is pulled from your throat at the contact, you close your eyes at the sweet sensation, Josh brings up his speed once more, you hold on to him, letting your nails scratch his back as his hips and hand have you melting below him. “I-I’m so close.” you stammer out, his eyes find yours, “I want you to look at me.” He simply says, you open your eyes and look back at him. “I want to watch you cum.” Josh’s voice gives him away, he’s on the edge now. You can feel the pressure in your abdomen begin to reach a fever pitch, already feeling so much stronger than the last two. “Let go.” His voice commands and you couldn't stop yourself if you tried.
Josh’s motion on your clit as well as the feeling of his cock against your g-spot sends you overboard and into your hardest orgasm yet. You hold his golden brown eyes, the look of Josh above you has you writhing, grasping at his waist as he drives into you, pulling you through your climax. “Just like that, oh just like that dove.” He moans, you can see his own orgasm crash against him, he pulls you tighter to him, you reciprocate gripping hard on to him, the two of you in the throws of absolute pleasure. Josh’s hips still as he allows himself to lay fully on you, his heavy breathing against the crook of your neck, you do the same, staring in dismay at the ceiling.
You begin to giggle, a huge smile spread over your face, a tear slipping out onto your cheek. Josh hoists himself off of you and looks to you in a concerned way, “What’s wrong?” He asks quickly, you just shake your head, “I did it.” You laugh out, rolling your head to look at Josh lying beside you, immediately calming Josh’s expression. “Yes you did. You did so well.” He smiles softly as he brushes the tear of joy from your cheek, as gentle as he always is. The two of you just lay like this for a while, just basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. It's a comfortable silence, one you wish you could live in beside Josh for as long as you wanted. “You’re really good at that.” You say, breaking the silence. “What?” “Sex.” Josh smiles bright, a laugh falling from his lips and filling the air with the beautiful sound. “No, I'm serious. You should build a career off of it.” You jest, poking him on the very tip of his nose. He smiles and pulls you closer to him, your face inches apart, “Maybe I should take you out to dinner first.”
You were standing near the stage during the chili peppers gig, and although John was one of the best guitarists you had heard, this gig wasn’t his best.
First, his guitar strap broke off his shoulder, in the middle of a solo. He had gone from being tilted back, eyes closed and lips parted, to an awkward, fumbling man in the matter of seconds. Not the worst thing to happen, but you wouldn’t have liked it.
Next, his pedal board stopped working. you could see how frustrated and upset he was becoming, he seemed so excited for this gig, and you were so happy for him, pressing kisses all across his face backstage before they started playing, it hurt to see this all go wrong for him, you knew how much of his soul and energy he put into every single performance.
Lastly, a string snapped on his main strat he was playing, it was like he snapped too. You could see the rage in his eyes as he stormed off stage, ignoring the pleas from Flea, Chad and Anthony. The crowd began booing him and the band, or begging for them to come back. It was too much.
You followed after him, trying to catch up to his giant strides. You were extremely worried, your mind racing with thoughts of what he could do, or more specifically what he would. You were never scared of john, no one was once they really knew him, he was such a gentle man, even though he was apart of a band full of overly macho men, and their macho fans. Once you got to know him, he was the sweetest and kindest man you had ever met, he would do anything for you, and you would do the same for him.
“John-“
“Just go away y/n, please, i need to be alone”, he replied, leaving before you could answer and locking himself in his dressing room.
You stood outside for a few minutes, alone, once again. You didn’t know what to do. Should you knock? Should you leave him be? Should you go get the others? Your thoughts were interrupted by loud footsteps and yelling.
Anthony was fuming, obviously. When would he ever miss an opportunity to criticise your boyfriend? He pushed past you, practically shoving you against the wall!
“Greenie, get the hell out here, now, you fucked up our entire set!”, he yelled, pounding on the door.
“Man, calm down, his guitars acting up, you’d be pissed too in his situation”, flea retorted, “John, come out, we can still go finish the gig”
You knew how much John hated when Anthony called him greenie. At first you thought it was just a playful nickname, like how everyone calls Michael ‘flea’, but you soon realised it was a way to make John feel small and inferior. Anthony would often do things like that, he would call John weird, or a freak, or just be a total dick to him, because he knew he could get away with it. It enraged you.
After more yelling for a few moments, from anthony mainly, John opened the door and pulled you inside, before quickly shutting and locking it again. He looked so frustrated and upset with himself, it broke your heart a little.
“Johnny, it’s okay, it was just a few mistakes”, you spoke softly, cupping his face with your hands and kissing his forehead.
“No, its not, i’m such a fuck up, i cant even play properly anymore”
“Don’t you dare say that”, you quickly countered “you’re an amazing musician, even bowie made mistakes, it’s natural and human, johnny”
He pulled away again, for what seemed like the hundredth time tonight, you hated when he shut you out, all you wanted was to help him feel better.
He was quiet for a bit, while you awkwardly stood at the door, once more not sure what to do, why was this so complicated?
Slowly, you walked over to him, putting your hands on his shoulders from behind and resting your head on his back. neither of you spoke, you didn’t need to.
Your hands slipped down his back slowly, feeling his skin and muscles. You always loved the way he looked without a shirt, who wouldn’t? The way his muscles gleamed from his sweat and the reflection of the lights on stage, or how soft his skin looked while you lay on his chest after the two of you made love.
“Let me help you”, you whispered to him, moving so you were standing in front of him. He nodded slightly, and if you weren’t so focused on him, you wouldn’t have noticed at all.
His hands came to rest on your waist, and yours were in his hair. Slowly, you leaned up and kissed his jaw, then both his cheeks and finally your lips met in a soft kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed and you kissed for a few moments, relishing in the moment.
People might think that being with a “rockstar”, you were constantly fucking, which wasn’t true. Being on the road you rarely had any time to even kiss for more than a few minutes, and fucking in a bathroom or very quietly while Anthony Kiedis is snoring on the bed beside you gets old very quickly.
His lips moved more firmly against yours, and you backed towards the vanity, hands moving out of his hair and down his chest.
“John..”, you whispered against his lips, squealing as he picked you up suddenly and gently set you on the vanity. You instinctively spread your thighs so he could come closer, your dress riding up over them. His lips moved from yours to your neck, pressing kisses to your skin and sucking bruises into the muscle.
“You’re so beautiful, especially in this dress, baby”, he whispered, pulling the straps down your arms and the neckline down past your soft breasts. John always knew how to make you feel good about yourself. About the size of your thighs, or the curves of your hips and waist, or your nose. He made you feel like the most prettiest girl in the world.
“I know, it’s your favourite”, you smiled at
him, your lips parting as his wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. Your hand rested on the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair as he sucked on your tits. He slowly moved down, kneeling in front of you and pushing your dress up over your hips. He looked at your panties, seeing you had soaked through them in the centre.
“You’re soaked”, he cheekily stated, looking up at you with a grin on his face.
“Please, John”
“I know, sweetheart, I’ve got you ”, he leaned down so his head was between your silky thighs, pressing his tongue flat against your clit through your panties. You gasped sharply, trying to stay still at the sudden contact, your hips failing miserably as they instantly bucked up against his tongue, causing him to let out a quiet groan.
He slowly slipped off your panties, his eyes falling onto your pussy for a moment, then back up at your face. His eyes were full of intensity, that you couldn’t put your finger on what he was feeling. Suddenly you felt very small and insecure.
“What? Is something wrong?”, you quietly whispered, worried that you had done something wrong.
He quickly shushed you, bringing his hand up to your velvety smooth folds and pressing his thumb to your clit, rubbing slow circles over the bud.
“You’re so, so beautiful, it makes me go crazy”, he whispered back.”I can’t wait to see you cum”
Your breathing picked up a bit, hands flying into his soft brown locks as he buried his face between your thighs, teasing your entrance with his tongue while his thumb continued to rub your clit. You bucked your hips up again, closing your eyes and whimpering quietly as he pulled his thumb away from you and slowly flicked his tongue over your clit.
John always put your pleasure before his, not just sexually but in every day life too. He would have you cumming on his fingers for the third time before he even had his boxers off, which you both loved and hated. By the end of him fucking you, you would be completely exhausted, barely able to cuddle for a moment before you practically passed out in his arms.
He rubbed his tongue over your clit in slow circles, holding your hips down as you rutted up against him. John brought his fingers up your thigh towards your entrance, rubbing over it with his fingertips in time with his tongue.
Your moans grew louder and higher as he applied more pressure, fingers gripping onto his hair while you whispered his name just loud enough for him to hear, loud enough so he was the only one who would hear you say it this way.
“John, I’m-“, you moaned out, arching into him as his lips sucked on your clit. Your thighs trembled and you threw your head back, the pressure in your stomach becoming to much to hold back
John didn’t pull back for a second, letting you ride out your high on his face. After a moment, slowly he pulled away, pressing kisses up your inner thighs, stomach, breasts, neck all the way to your swollen, plush lips. You kissed him back weakly, already tired from him eating you out.
He slowly pulled away, looking at you with such love and affection it made you feel weak.”I’m sorry for being such a dick earlier, it’s just.. well, you know how much this means to me.”
“I know, it’s okay, i would’ve done the same probably”, you softly whispered back, reaching up to cup his face.” I love you”
“I love you too, sweetheart”, he replied.
He leaned down and rested his forehead against your cheek, his hands caressing your bare waist while yours moved back into his soft brown hair. For a moment you were both quiet again, bathing in each other’s presence and warmth. You wished it could be like this all the time, that you could both live in your shared bed, with only a guitar by the nightstand to accompany you two, that’s all you needed. Each other and music.
Your hands moved down to his shoulder blades, hand’s caressing his skin while your lips found his again. You sat up from the vanity and held his hand gently, leading him over to the couch by the door. He sat down and pulled you to him so you were standing between his legs, stroking his hair as he rested his head on your chest. “You okay?”, you questioned quietly, moving your fingers through his hair soothingly. He nodded, humming in response to you and burying his face in your chest. You moved onto his lap and held the back of his head, kissing his lips.
John melted into you completely, his hands wandering down your body to your hips, pulling them to his own. This is just what he wanted needed right now, the tour was putting him under so much stress and pressure, playing shows night after night. All he wanted was to be in your arms, to feel your soft, tender hands in his calloused, hardened ones.
“I love you, I love you, I love you”, he said, over and over again, moving his hips against yours the tiniest bit. You could feel how hard he was getting in his pants. His hand’s pulled away from your hips to unbuckle his belt and pull down the fly of his jeans.
You glanced down at his cock, it was leaking tiny beads of precum, the tip was almost red.
John lifted you up a little bit so he could line himself up with your entrance, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as he did.
“Ready?”
“Mhm, please, johnny”
Slowly and gently his cock slid into you, causing you to wince at the stretch. You and John had sex many times before, but it always hurt a bit, he always made sure to be as slow and careful as you needed, he didn’t want to hurt you.
“You okay?”, he whispered against your ear, pushing his hips up a little bit more until he was fully inside, biting back a groan.
“Yeah.. god, you can move now, johnny”, you practically whined back. Your hands moving to grab onto his shoulders, nails pressing into his skin. John slowly moved his hips upward into you, drawing a moan from your lips. John rested his head on top of yours, quiet pants falling from his mouth as he slowly moved faster.
Your bodies moulded together perfectly, like you were one, two souls faded into each other. You both knew everything about one another, every thought, secret, idea. You were the reflection of each other, in good and bad.
Your mind came back to the present, to his body against yours and his cock inside you as he moved a little harder. He kissed your neck and gripped onto your ass gently. You moaned his name, hands running through his hair and fingernails scratching over his scalp lightly.
“Look at me, sweetheart, cmon”, he moaned out, wild strands of hair sticking to his forehead. You looked up at him, trying desperately to keep your eyes open.
“So pretty, so good, so beautiful”, John breathed out, his eyes locking onto yours as he started fucking into you faster, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough for you to find small circular bruises on them the next morning. You tossed your head back and moaned higher, eyes closed and lips parted. You felt the familiar warmth in your lower stomach building up, causing you to grab onto John’s shoulders to steady yourself, whining out about how good he made you feel.
“Let go, baby.. fuck, cum on my cock”, John groaned and snapped his hips up into yours, his jaw dropping as he felt you clench around him. He looked up in awe as he watched you hit your peak, hands cupping your waist to brace you.
He moved his hips faster, satisfied that you had your own release but now he was craving his own (although he would’ve loved to see you cum all night).
“Cum inside me, please John”, you whispered against his shoulder, sweet moans escaping your lips as his cock hit all the best places.
His eyes practically rolled back once he came, jaw clenching and grip tightening on your waist, groans and moans coming from his mouth. You kissed him and he kissed you back with all the love he had in his soul. Slowly you pulled away and rested your head on his chest, tracing the tattoo on his left arm with your fingertips, like he was a painting. He was all art and music, even his body was covered in it.
After a few moments of soft words and kisses, you got off his lap with shaky legs. John quickly got up too and grabbed a few tissues, kneeling in front of you and holding you steady as he carefully cleaned you off.
“Thank you”, you spoke, biting your lip as you looked down at him, shivering at the feel of his hands caressing your thighs.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart”, he smiled up at you, pressing a quick kiss to your thigh, causing you to giggle before he got up and kissed you on the lips.
Your hands cupped his face once more and you pulled away from the kiss, looking at him with a small smile.
“Wanna go fix your guitar string?”, you said.
“Sure, as long you let me play later”, he replied, a grin on his face again.
Today the studio was booked by Maneskin again, which means you’d get to see Thomas. You’d get to listen to him play bluesy or hard rock guitar riffs and attempt to hide how much it turned you on. You’d get to stare at him until he felt your eyes on him and looked back. You’d get to hold eye contact in a way that made the whole room uncomfortable.
During every moment it was appropriate, you’d speak to each other in hushed voices, biting your lip so you didn’t smile too wide. He’d stand really close and you’d feel small next to him, and feverish under his direct attention. Thomas would flirt with you in front of everyone, quietly and with such sweetness. He knew that a spectacle would jeopardize your job with the producers you were supposed to be assisting. And he’d do so without ever looking at his phone, except for the moment he added your contact.
Thomas would work at a frenzied pace right before lunch, that way he could find an excuse to go fetch the orders with you. At first he played indecisive, then curious about the local restaurants. After a few days the excuses became about you: there was a band that he just had to show you or vice versa, and to be fair he often did. Now, not even two weeks into a seven week recording stint, Thomas had given up the excuses altogether. Everyone knew the routine, and gave him shit for it: he’d disappear with you for 45 minutes in the middle of the day and return with lunch.
Your coworkers didn’t start teasing until Thomas began staying later than everyone else, during the time when you’d clean up the studio for the morning’s clients. You’d talk, getting to know one another and finding an ever growing list of shared interests and experiences. Conversations which would be continued for hours afterwards, via text. At first it really irked you, the whistles and crude remarks about “no glove no love,” but that same evening Thomas helped you clean the bathroom so he’d have a couple extra minutes together, and any fucks you gave went out the window.
“I really want to play you something.”
“Yeah, okay,” you beamed, unlocking the booth and flipping on the light. Technically, you weren’t supposed to be in here by yourself, future platinum records and multi-million dollar equipment considered. However, they’d given you a key and no conduct within a recording studio is ever strictly legal. Turning on the soundboard, you did feel like this was something risky and forbidden, but for entirely different reasons. You and Thomas would be in a soundproofed studio alone, in an empty building. If there was ever a moment to act on this stifling sexual tension, it was now.
You spent the evening seated on layers of rugs that hadn’t been washed since the 70’s. When you made a comment about how grubby the floor was, Thomas had you sit on his coat.
“It’s fine, really! I shouldn’t have worn a skirt, this way I’ll remember next time,” you protest. Thomas gets settled, guitar over his leg, pick in hand, but he looks at you instead of playing. God, he has nice hands. And really nice fingers: long, elegant, skilled, probably very dexterous.
“Isn’t it better?”
“Huh?” you ask, entirely distracted. He follows your gaze and you know you’ve been caught by the way the left side of his mouth curls upwards. If Thomas knows you’re fantasizing about his hands, then he knows about the other thoughts dirtying your mind and that's a position far too revealing.
“Isn’t it better not to have to sit on the floor, though?” he repeats.
“Uh, yeah,” you reply dumbly.
“Then you’ll sit on my coat,” he concludes with soft finality. So you do sit, but sideways on your hip so a wet spot isn’t left on the polyester lining from the seat of your underwear. Thomas puts his pick in his mouth, and plays with his hands. A classy woman would be able to admire his musicianship, but you’re horny and want to climb him like a tree. What's even better, or perhaps more tortuous, is that his sweeping glances indicate that he feels the same. The anticipatory chemistry between you is so electrifying that it makes you feel alive in a new way.
Very quickly, it becomes apparent that Thomas is aware of his own sexuality. He has a quiet confidence in place of showmanship, moves with his music in the same caliber of motion and intensity. Every once in a while he looks up while playing a particularly Jimmy Page-esque chord, like the guitar is moaning in pleasure that Thomas is so intentionally applying. He rocks back and forth with the rhythm, lips parting as he focuses. Was he supposed to be showing you a song idea? His new favorite guitar melody? You’re lost as Thomas plays, in him more so than in the music. At some point you begin mirroring him, by complete accident, swaying back and forth in time.
When Thomas stops finger picking it's like a spell being broken. You feel yourself surface from the groove of his music, which has moved from melodic to soulful to sensual. He stands up, retrieving a slide he’d left on top of an amp. When he turns back around you see a realization flash across his face.
“Or maybe you’d like to sit somewhere else?” he asks, quickly. Like on your lap? How are you going to play guitar then? “There has to be another chair here somewhere.”
“It’s totally fine! I put them all away.” As has the devil with my soul, apparently.
“Well I could sit on the floor, too?” The rate with which Thomas has gone from rock god to conscientious gentleman is endlessly endearing.
“Oh no, I really don’t mind, Tommy.” In fact, you think the universe has granted you a reprieve until Thomas starts playing New Orleans blues. He uses his index and middle finger to yank on the strings, manipulating the sound by manually bending them to his will. It's worse than holding the pick between his beautiful lips. Everytime he accentuates a chord this way, you fantasize about his firm hands gripping you, and where else he could curl his strong, lengthy fingers.
“So, what do you think?” In all honesty you haven’t had a complete thought in the last half an hour.
“I think, um…I think it's good.” Thomas misinterprets your response with a frown.
“You hate it,” he guesses.
“No, no that’s not it at all! God, fuck, um –” Drawing a complete blank for an excuse, you’re left with no option but to tell the truth. Plus, you know the attraction is mutual, and someone has to take this a step further.
“It’s just that you’re really sexy,” you confess. That particular adjective slips without your permission. Why not hot or cute? As soon as the words have been spoken you hide your blushing face behind your hands.
“Oh, fuck. Um, sorry, that was super unprofessional,” you grimace, letting the hair fall in front of your face as you move your hands.
“When I found out you were into guitar players, I realized I must have done something very charitable in a past life.” You meet his eyes, trying to think of which co-worker would have made that comment. Not one that knew you well, since you’d dated all types of musicians.
“It’s not guitar players specifically,” you answer, feeling coy. Flirtatiously, you allow yourself a languide glance at Thomas’ open shirt and smattering of chest hair.
“Well then I must be really lucky, because you’re exquisite.” Exquisite. You’d been called beautiful, hot, and cute before, but the descriptors ended there. What the fuck does a person say to match exquisite? It seems that no words are necessary, your blush is validation enough. Thomas’ lips part to reveal an adorable smile. Everything about him is kind,and that’s so attractive. Despite what the media portrays, plenty of women aren’t into hard-bodied masculinity.
“I, um, well fuck,” you giggle, hands returning to your face out of a nervous habit.
“Don’t hide your smile,” he coaxes. “It’s like sunshine.” You drop your hands, carefully committing him to memory. His soulful, downturned eyes, his cute button nose that was actually quintessentially Italian from his side profile. Leave it to Thomas to have both of your favorite, but mutually exclusive, facial features. Those shapely lips that would fit so well against your own, his stubble, dark eyelashes, and soft jawline, all framed by a grown out shag.
“Sorry, I couldn’t come up with something better. My English still isn’t good enough to give beautiful women porper compliments.” The fact that he referred to you as a woman instead of a girl already won his points.
“Don’t worry, the accent is plenty effective,” you grinned. Thomas chuckled, bashful, turning the guitar pick over in his fingers.
“I’m glad I have something going for me.”
“Oh, you have plenty going for you,” you quip, confidently. This playful banter eventually leads to you playing something for him, much to Thomas’ excitement.
“You play?”
“Yes, I play! I firmly believe that any decent producer should be able to tinker around with instruments.” Thomas’ expression is so flattering that you get flustered, and find an excuse to listen to him strum the guitar again. You’re both on the floor now. The squeaks from the strings as Thomas moves his hand up along the fretboard are louder than the chords. Eventually he gives up and curses.
“Fuck, I don’t have that part down, yet.” He shakes his head and lays the guitar on the ground. You slide it away so there's nothing between the two of you but air and apprehension. After you finish moving the guitar out of the way, you look back up at Thomas. If there was anytime to kiss him, it was now, but you couldn’t figure out a segway. He hadn’t actually touched you beside a hand on the small of your back a couple times. Just catapulting yourself at him would be awkward and not explicitly welcome.
So you looked down at his hands, and felt the sexual tension in your cunt. His black nail polish was chipped and grown out, and there was a scrap from changing his own strings. Internally, you were screaming at him to move, so do something. You inched your hand towards his jean-clad knee, but stopped just short of touching. In term, he lay his hand on your knee over your thin tights. You could feel its warmth, its weight, and wished that he had reached under your skirt instead of below the hemline.
In return, you slide your hand onto his midthigh, not quite high enough to touch the erection you assumed he was sporting. You begin to lift your head, then realize Thomas is also bent over, watching all these tiny chances you barely have the courage to take. Looking down upon your hesitant hands is almost like looking down into a doll house. It's a miniature, controlled representation of all the things you’d like to do with your bodies, but lack the faculties to. Or, in this case, the courage. In this tiny simulation mistakes could be made without dire consequences and could be easily amended.
That's why Thomas’ hand sliding up your leg, under your skirt, was like toppling an entire play scene. Now that every character in this mini-theatre was indisposed, you were forced to engage with real life. You pressed your forehead to his and looked up. Thomas’ hand found the end of your hosiery, which you guess he hadn’t expected by the way he froze.
“Tommy,” you whispered. He met your eyes, and you leaned in to kiss him, tilting your chin to the side. He met you halfway, sort of nuzzling before your lips met. It was such an adoring way to kiss someone that you lifted a hand to the back of Thomas’ head, keeping him there to draw out the kiss. He seemed in no hurry to pull away either, slowly, sensually taking the time to mold his mouth to yours. Instead of a peck, he found the perfect way your mouths fit together and savored it for a moment.
Your lips made an obnoxious sound as they parted, but were silent as they met again in another slow, sultry kiss. You finally let your eyes fall shut, and laced your fingers through Thomas’ hair. The hand on his leg felt awkward and you tried to figure out what to do with it as Thomas’ pressed his tongue into your mouth, one band cupping your jaw, the other squeezing the meat of your thigh. You should have struggled to catch your breath, but this had been such a long time coming that the kiss was relaxing, and natural in a way none of your other interactions had been. This was the first time neither had held back.
You kissed in the same way, and it made everything run smoothly. Maintaining a rhythm once you’d found it in was usually challenging, but with a bit of focus, you and Thomas seemed to always be on the same page. His mouth tasted good. The knowledge that his saliva was brought against your tongue with every caress aroused you an uncomfortable amount. Your panties were cold and sticky against your skin.
You used the hand on Thomas' thigh to push yourself upright, making it easier to engage in the kiss instead of just receiving it. He seemed to like this very much and moaned into your mouth, which put you in a state of frenzy, halfway falling on Thomas as you tried to pull him closer. His nose bumped against your cheek, and he kissed like he was very aware of this, constantly readjusting. The amount of thought process that was being allocated away from your embrace bothered you. So, you took Thomas’ face in both hands, kissing him hard, passionately, unbothered by the bridge of his nose against your cheek bone. He let out another moan, of both surprise and appreciation, then pulled away slightly, breaking for air.
“Holy fucking shit,” he gasped, cheeks flushed, as was the tip of his nose, like it was chilly outside. You tried for words, but ended up dissolving into happy giggles. Seeing your joy, he chuckled along.
“So we know that works,” you conclude, allocating one hand to fan yourself, suddenly enduring a hot flash.
“Uh, yeah. That definitely works.” Thomas takes a moment to readjust, sitting against an amp, but still keeping his fingertips on the bare skin of your thigh. Every perceptible touch made your pussy throb, and you wanted to buck your hips until his hand was in the proper place.
“C’mere,” he invited, patting his lap. You grinned like a fool and swung a leg over, sitting on his midthigh. Something about Thomas coaxing you to sit on his lap then gripping you firmly had a whine of protest ripping from the back of your throat. Protesting what exactly, wasn’t clear. A lack of action? An excess of arousal? All you new is that you were going to take off these underwear and stuff them in your purse before you drove home because this was fucking uncomftorable.
You resumed kissing, glancing at each other's lips before surging towards each other. It was actually a little too forceful and you worried about Thomas’ nose, but he seemed unbothered. You used this opportunity to run your hands through Thomas’ hair. It was finer than you expected, but just as soft. After a long day in the studio, it was hard not to catch on tangles, so you spoke into the kiss.
“How do you like to be touched?” He kissed you once more before processing your question and stilling. Just barely, you could feel his cock twitch against your leg. Even though your lips were touching it wasn’t a kiss. Thomas was panting erratically into your mouth.
“I um,” gasp, “I like most things.” The hand that slid between your shoulder blades a few moments ago was progressively finding its way downwards. Currently Thomas was gripping just above your waist tightly, keeping you close as he attempted to form a thought. He looked to his left, unable to function under your amous gaze.
“I like having my ears touched.”
“Okay…” You nodded encouragingly and brought a hand to trace the shell of his ear. Once his ear lobe was between your fingers, you pulled on it gently, and this caused his eyelids to flutter closed.
“I don’t…I don’t know,” he huffed.
“Well what would you like to do right now?” you prodded.
“Anything. Everything. Nothing. Whatever you want.” You hummed in agreement, putting both your hands around Thomas neck, and scooting up.
“Whatever I want. I like the sound of that,” you tease, resuming the kiss. Thomas' mouth is more firm against yours, increasing in vigor. If it weren’t for your own enthusiasm the force would have your neck craning back. You rise to the challenge, kissing him passionately, pressing your chest to his. Instead of sitting back on your heels, you straddle Thomas’ groin, resting your weight forward on his hard cock. As the kiss slows, becomes deeper, you rock up and down on his lap in rhythm, just as you had while he played. You can feel your nipples rubbing against his chest through your blouse and bralette.
“Are you even wearing anything under this!?” he exclaims, hand sliding upward and finding a lack of shorts underneath.
“Why don’t you keep going and find out?” Instead of waiting for stimulation, you very purposefully rub your pussy against the zipper of his jeans, neglecting the kiss in order to find a pleasurable motion. A wide-eyed Thomas brings his hand under your skirt, up to your ass. Exchanging pecks on the lips, you nod your head encouragingly. When Thomas reaches your skimpy underwear you both stop breathing. He pauses, rubbing the fabric between his fingers, unsure of how to proceed.
“Mhm,” you prompt, nodding again, foreheads pressed together. It takes everything not to guide his hand between your legs, but that would be a bit too forward for a first sexual interaction. His hand slides under the waistband of your panties and he feels the curve of your hip, traces the skin where thigh meets groin. You keep nodding, and the arm around your ribs falls to your hips, like he's trying to adjust your position. Problem is you've never hooked up before so you have no idea what goal he’s trying to achieve.
“Mhm, mhm,” you confirm, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. He’s trying to pull you towards him somehow and as much as you’re trying to go with Thomas, he’s not being decisive enough with his movements. You lose your patience.
“What do you want me to do?” you snap. His eyes go wide for a second in surprise.
“I find it's easier if you just, just lean into me a bit. Because I’m so tall.” You lean forward, holding your weight except for the arms wrapped around his neck. It feels wrong and the tentative flutter of his hands confirms this.
“Just…relax. Like, I’ve got you. Just –” You give Thomas your weight, resting your head on his shoulder, like a hug. “Yeah, exactly, okay.” He rubs your flank reassuringly with both hands, and starts to work his way towards your cunt again. He traces the waist of your panties, then rubs the crook of your thigh. You think he’s finally going to touch your pussy, at least over the underwear, and he doesn’t. Is he teasing me or does he think I still need warming up? Thomas torturing you the frist time he gets in your pants sounds out of character, you decide.
“How’s –”
“I’m so wet,” you confess, burning face pressed into his shoulder. “Please, just do something, now. Like, I –” Thomas pushes a hand down the front of your panties, and rubs over your pussy on the way to inserting a finger into your opening. It's exactly what you wanted. That place inside you, begging for touch, begging for pressure, begging for intrusion is satiated, and you let out a whine that turns into a mewl. You know Thomas can see your toes curl.
He works the one finger all the way in and you’re trying not to pull his hair, but fuck you’ve spent $85 on a dildo that didn’t reach this far. You bite down on the fabric of his shirt as a gag, resisting the urge to let out an avalanche of pathetic whines.
“More?” You nod furiously, and Thomas begins massaging your hymen with his middle finger. “This okay?”
“Just force it,” you beg. You partially expect him to pause, or act scandalized, or refuse, but Thomas has more experience than you give him credit for. He’s been with enough women to understand the desire to feel your body pried open when it's gone untouched for too long. So he does exactly what you ask: no prep, he pushes the second finger inside.
Your body has decided that curling your toes is no longer an adequate expression of sensation, now you’re kicking the dusty rug with the top of your foot. You let out a moan so Thomas doesn’t have to discern if this is pain or pleasure. He starts by thrusting his fingers, then tries curling them. Both get a strong reaction out of you while rocking back on his hand like you’re riding it. You’re wondering which one he’ll decide on when he speaks.
“A third?”
“I, uh…” Two felt plenty full, but the sensation of three fingers was glorious if you could take it.
“When was the last time someone fucked you properly?”
“Um, I guess…” You couldn’t come up with a decisive answer. “It’s been a bit.” You sat up as you spoke, feeling awkward having a conversation into Thomas’ shirt. “Why, is it obvious?” Thomas started making come hither motions, while his thumb searched for your clit. You let out a sigh, leaning your forehead against his as your eyelids fell closed.
“You can barely take two fingers, but you wanted them without foreplay? Then a third? I couldn’t give that to you if I wanted to.”
“Oh.” You felt absolutely mortified at coming off so desperate.
“Hey! Hey, I do want to, for the record. I want to give you everything that feels good.” Perfect timing, his thumb found your clitorous, and you were keening forward once again.
“Tommy,” you rasped.
“And I fucking love that you call me Tommy. No one calls me Tommy, so don’t pretend that you didn’t know what you were doing, either.” He says these words into your hair, leaning closer. He starts thrusting his fingers in and out at a decent pace. Not your ideal pace, but this was the first time after all.
“Wait,” your murmur, reaching down to hold his wrist still. You bounce at the speed you’d like, letting him get acquainted. When you let go he keeps pace, and the depth has you letting out an open mouthed groan, eyes closed tightly in appreciation.
“There you go,” he encourages in that thick Italian accent. You kiss him messily for a minute, but realize that this isn’t enough to make you cum. When you open your eyes his lips are glistening, and his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Can I touch you?” Your hand slides up his leg, waiting for permission.
“Yeah, uh, fuck,” he pants, hand faltering. “I don’t think I can –” receive and give effectively at the same time.
“That's okay,” you offer, sitting back a bit. You make quick work of his belt buckle and the buttons. After spitting in your hand crudely, you shove your hand inside his boxers, attempting to find a good grip. The hand between your legs settles on lazily rubbing your clit, as Thomas’ head falls back against the amp. You start with full strokes then switch to focusing on the sensitive half of his cock, trying to see which he likes more. He doesn’t seem to have a preference until you increase the tightness of your hold, sliding over the head of his cock and thumbing at his slit.This earns you an unexpected amount of pre-cum and he lets out the first real moan, which lands like a wave of heat that settles in your groin.
You can actually see the tension leave his body as Thomas slumps against the amp. His hips buck in sensitivity, and you have to use your body weight to pin down his thighs. The restriction from the elastic waistband of his boxers is annoying, so you pull them down to reveal his cock. It’s a handsome cock, rosey and veering slightly to the right. He’s cut, which you didn’t expect from a European man. Thomas’ pubic hair is denser and lighter in color than you’d imagined, but it's in proportion to his substantial shaft. How people fit so much in skin-tight pants would never cease to amaze you.
His reaction to your touch is anything but casual. Thomas is highly reactive and tightly wound. How long had it been since he was fucked properly? His cock twitches whenever you firmly massage the ridge at the base of the head. It seems that he’s never really resting his weight on the floor, always carrying it in his body. You lean forward and lick his exposed adam’s apple. The resulting prornographic noise makes you thankful that this room is locked and sound proofed.
With the crown of his head resting on the edge of the amp, you trace the shell of his ear then suck his earlobe, grazing it with your teeth. Unexpectedly, his head snaps up, eyes half lidded with arousal, plush lips parted. Thomas roughly grabs you and kisses you with so much passion it's disarming. Thomas molds the flesh of your thigh with one hand and uses the other to lightly slap your ass, exposed in your skimpy underwear.
“I don’t wanna stop,” you mumble into his mouth. He gives you one final kiss as punctuation before meeting your eyes.
“I have a condom in my bag. Um…” he looks around trying to locate it, gently pushing you from his lap. “Fuck, where is it?” Thomas gets up, tucking himself back into his pants with a comical amount of effort.
“Don’t worry about it, we’re just taking them off again.”
“I can’t walk about with my dick out!” he counters, finally buttoning his fly. You get up and follow him to the mixing room, giggling while scanning the various shelves.
“This is so fucking embaressing, I’m so sorry,” he apologizes crouching down next to the couch.
“I’m more worried about you losing, erm, interest,” you insinuate. Thomas looks back at you, smirking.
“I can promise you that any interest lost, can easily be perked back up again.” The light reflects off of something on a stack of amps directly behind him. You then realize it is the polished leather handle of Thomas’ bag.
“Over here!”
“Thank god!” he groans, head thrown back. As Thomas unzips a side pocket he mutters rapid fire Italian curse words under his breath.
“Okay,” he sighs, holding up the condom between his index and middle finger like a cigarette, smiling. You give him your best come hither look. Thomas gets to be the one to reinitiate physical contact.
“What are you doing all the way over there again?” he teases cheerfully, taking a step in your direction.
“Waiting for you to come get me.” Thomas’ chest heaves under this shirt, which is now halfway unbuttoned, even though you don’t remember undressing him. He crowds you against a stack of Fender amplifiers. You find yourself wobbling on the tips of your toes, trying to compensate for the height difference and meet his lips. Instead of a stabilizing hand on your waist, Thomas reached both hands under the hem of your skirt, cupping the crease where thigh becomes buttock. You barely have the presence of mind to help him by jumping before you’re being hauled off the ground.
His mouth is on yours before the hold is even steady. Thomas is letting you set the pace with both his hands now occupied. His hair gets in your mouths, so you open your eyes and admire his beauty as you pull his golden locks from the kiss. It doesn’t even seem to register, he’s just happy to have you held tightly against him. This passionate embrace had been a long time coming.
Using your height advantage, you push your tongue into Thomas’ mouth while also wrapping your legs around him. The meeting of these two entities is hesitant, even gentle. Brute force was never pleasant when it came to French kissing, and his ability to be delicate and measured made your excitement uncomfortably tangible. It was an arousing juxtaposition to the way you’d wrapped yourself around him, squeezing tightly. His fingers dug into the softest part of your body and you try not to be self conscious of the fact that he’s supporting your weight. Even though this is your first time, there's a sense of safety in Thomas’ arms. Being held like this evokes the same warm satiation as being cuddled.
Breaking away, you sloppily kiss the corner of Thomas’ mouth and across his cheek, making your way back to his ear. He sort of kisses you sideways, trying to follow your mouth until he realizes that's not the intent. Something else endearing, as if there weren’t enough already. Instead of resuming your attention to the shell of his ear, you very slowly insert your tongue into his canal, its wet warmth stimulating every hyper-sensitive follicle. Thomas shivers and pushes you up against the mixing room’s external door, which rattles on its hinges. The taste is bitter, but the ferocity with which he now grips your thighs makes it worth it.
Thomas devolves into rutting against you while grunting and you practically climb him. The zipper of his jeans rubbing against your groin was probably doing more for you than it was him. You pull his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging just a little bit before letting go and allowing him to return the gesture. His mouth feels so much better than it looks, pillowy and rounded. Wanting to get a better sense of them, you lick up the hill of his bottom lip, down into the seam where they meet, and back up over his top lip and onto his cupid's bow. Thomas' eyes fall closed as you do this, so you kiss the tip of his nose and up the bridge, ending between his eyebrows where he gets a line when a riff is evading him. His entire face relaxes, and the knowledge that Thomas likes having his face kissed burns between your legs. Only then do you remember the goal of finding a functional horizontal surface.
“We need, we need somewhere,” you pant. Thomas sets you on top of an amp, and pulls your shirt off. Before the fabric has hit the floor, you’re working on the clasp of your bra. Thomas audibly gasps as you fling it to the side, which is very flattering.
“Your nipples are so pretty.” His hand comes up to cup your breast, tracing over the mauve bud with a feather light touch that makes you shiver in delight. The rough callous on his thumb barely makes contact with your extremely sensitive nipple, and yet it's almost too much sensation. You are pushing your breasts towards him without choosing to do so consciously. Thomas grabs you around the middle, and pulls your chest towards his face, sucking the other nipple into his mouth with severity. This time you’re the one moaning, fingernails scratching at the textured surface of the amplifier.
When Thomas drops to his knees you know you’re done for. The optimist in you assumes he’ll be great at giving oral. The realist knows that men are very rarely this proficient and you’ll have to pretend to enjoy it for an appropriate amount of time before moving on to better things. Most people don’t enjoy going down on someone, they just feel obligated, and that's what you would be. If Thomas ate you out, you’d be obligated.
“Hey, it's okay, you already warmed me up.”
“I know, I was there” he winks, pulling you to the edge. “And you don’t have to blow me, I’m not expecting that.” The surprise must show on your face because Thomas breaks out in a laugh. “Damn, you’ve had some really bad sex.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny,” you counter. “But, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Thomas sits back on his heels with a huff, trying to read your features. He seems to settle on something before speaking.
“Remember when you wore that red plaid skirt a couple days ago?” Ah yes, your tennis skirt, an article of clothing made to reduce the most pious of men to sex demons. You’d worn it to get Thomas’ attention.
“Mhm,” you nod coyly.
“And remember that chair I was in, and you sat on the arm for a while? You were really close to me and you smelled lovely.”
“You like my perfume?” Smell was a huge part of attraction, so this was a positive. You loved the way Thomas smelled.
“Um, sure…yeah.” He seemed taken aback. “It’s nice, but I really prefer your natural smell. It’s so sexy to me.” He put lots of emphasis on the word “natural,” patting your thigh a couple times. Thomas implored you to understand with his expression, but you were lost.
“But, I always wear perfume.”
“Right, but I could smell you this time. Now that I know how little you wear under your skirts that makes sense.” He gestures to your groin. “Especially considering how close you” cue confusing emphasis “were to me. But, maybe that was on purpose,” he smirks, tilting his head to the side.
“Well, I smell the same today,” you chirp. Thomas looks bewildered.
“I don’t think you can control that. It has more to do with you, um –” he gesticulates as though the words should be forthcoming.
“It’s an essential oil, jasmine. I used it today as well.”
“I’m not talking about your perfume, y/n. I’m talking about how you smell.” He chuckles good naturedly, and rests his forehead on your knee for a moment in exasperation. “You’ve smelled yourself before, no?” If not perfume, then what, body odor? That did not smell lovely. And what did your skirt have to do with, oh my god.
“No!” you howled, hands coming up to cover your face. “I thought only girls could smell their own, y’know.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” he chuckled. “Has no one complimented you on this before? Americans are such prudes.” You immediately close your legs as tightly as possible, to which Thomas makes a noise of disagreement.
“I’m gonna start wearing liners, and shorts, and –”
“It’s natural, it’s supposed to be there, dear god!” Thomas laughs, and your face is so hot with mortification that you feel feverish.
“This whole time,” you groaned, remembering every occasion you’d worn a skirt, thinking this scent was only perceptible to you.
“I can’t imagine anyone complaining, it's quite pleasant.” You let out a whine of shame, shaking your head, face still covered by your palms. “It's just pheromones, relax! We never have to acknowledge it again. I just brought it up because now that I know how you smell, I’d really like to know how you taste.” Having a man tell you that he liked the scent of your cunt so much that he wanted to eat you out was either the hottest or most disgusting thing ever. Maybe it was both.
“Mm-mm,” you shook your head. Thomas pushed up your skirt to reveal your underwear and your pussy throbbed. He pulled your hands from your face, looking at you for permission to continue. You nodded your head, unsure how far your self consciousness would let you go. Instead of trying to pry your thighs apart, Thomas pressed his face into your lap. To prove a point, he breathed in deep and hummed in satisfaction. His nose nudged your clitorous, which caused you to kick the side of the amp so hard you hissed in pain.
“You’re gross.” Thomas rests one cheek on your thigh, his free hand stroking your flank.
“Sure am.” He didn’t take it as an insult, which somehow made the whole situation more erotic. You relaxed your legs, not quite parting them, but allowing them to be parted.
“Maybe we do this on the floor, so you don’t break anything,” Thomas suggested. He kissed your inner thigh before unbuttoning his shirt, still kneeling. You waited for his direction, as he shed the layer, and bunched it up in his hand.
“C’mon.” He pulled you from the amplifier and back into the studio where his leather jacket lay on the ground, and you were hit by a scandalous realization.
“You! Were you trying to – your jacket, having me sit on it! Were you, were you, um –”
“Actually I was just trying to be a gentleman, but the thought did cross my mind.” He winked, before laying his shirt out below his jacket so you’d have something to rest on. You sat down on the makeshift bed as he smoothed out the material.
“Your poor shirt,” you comment, leaning back on your elbows with Thomas knelt at your knees.
“A worthwhile sacrifice.” He smiled with just the left side of his mouth before returning his attention elsewhere. “Open your legs, leprotta.”
“What does that mean?” Thomas thought for a moment about the translation.
“Bunny.”
“Jesus christ,” you sighed, laying flat on your back, looking at the ceiling. There were various exposed cords and a dubiously engineered lighting system. The snap of your skirt’s clasp and the sound of the zipper seemed to echo in the otherwise perfectly silent room. In your mind, you beg Thomas to hurry up before the anticipation kills you, but in reality your lips are pursed to fight back a dismal whine.
The fabric tickles where it brushes your legs, causing every hair to stand up. Thomas crouches down and you look up to find his expression expectant. Under his lustful gaze, you open your legs a generous amount. For a panicky moment you forget which underwear you have on and can’t remember if they’re stained. Thomas seems totally enraptured, smiling faintly with both hands coming to grip your thighs.
“You’ve soaked all the way through,” he admires. You let out a humiliated groan, head lulling back and eyes tightly closed. In darkness, your other senses become the conveyors of information. You expect Thomas to take off your underwear next, but he doesn’t. He kisses your pussy over the fabric on the wet spot. Then he nuzzles against you, nose coming in contact with your clit. You whine at the sensation, lifting your hips so he can take off the final garment and touch your properly. Thomas has no such mercy. Tongue firm, he licks the seat of your panties, using his face to apply glorious pressure.
“If you make me cum in my underwear I swear to – uh, ahh, Tommy!” He interrupts you by firmy lapping at the seat of your panties, until the entire strip of fabric is wet. He then pushes it to the side with his tongue and finally licks your pussy.
“Please, please take them off!” you beg, and he does, pulling your ruined panties down to your ankle. You haphazardly kick your underwear off in a random direction and Thoams presses his face to your bare cunt, unyielding. Just the direct pressure and warmth of his skin is heavenly. He moans and the vibrations are felt on and inside you. After a few seconds of trial and error, his nose is pressed to your clit again as the hot muscle of his tongue invades your pussy. He’s so exact with his movements, so active in his ministrations.
When your eyes finally open again you see the mop of his dirty blond hair and nothing else solidly between your thighs. Without thinking, you grab his shag in your hands to keep him close, maintain stimulation. A more logical y/n would remember that Thomas needed to breathe, but you were close and he was damn good at this.
“Tommy, tommy, tommy,” you whine, each repetition in increasing pitch until you're damn near squeaking his name. He nodded against your body in understanding and the new stimulation caused your heel to pound against the studio floor. Thomas noticed this and started rocking his face against you. In fact, his whole body was in motion and you realized that Thomas was rutting against the carpet, so turned on by the way you tasted that he was getting himself off.
Your feet began to pound against the floor, body so wrought with pleasure that you needed some externalization of the sensation. Usually, with men, you carefully orchestrated reactions to flatter them, but with Thomas it felt as if you would explode if you didn’t move. You ended up rocking against his face too, and it was as if he was fucking you, but with his tongue as the chosen appendage. He managed to keep rhythm, making obscene slurping noises as your aroused discharge became more plentiful with your impending orgasam.
“Close,” you cried out and Thomas moaned again and kept moaning. It was what got you off, and he continued through your orgasam, so much so you were worried he had finished. Fighting for air, you felt a tug where you held Thomas’ hair, and realized he was likely suffocating between your thighs.
“Oh shit, sorry,” you gasped, breaking out in a sweat. His face was red when he pulled away from your pussy, but he was beaming. “Shit, I suffocated you didn’t I?” To breathless to verbalize, Thomas simply laughed as he sat up.
“Can’t believe – ugh” he gave up speaking and focused on breathing for a moment. “Can’t believe I had to convince you to do that.” There were red hand prints where he’d gripped your thighs, and you traced their outline, enraptured.
“Oh, sorry. Shit, I –”
“Don’t apologize, I like them.” Thomas surged forward to kiss you, but you stopped him with your hand before his lips made contact.
“Ah! I don’t care how much you like it, wipe your mouth off!” Thomas wiped his face on the back of his hand and looked up, eyebrow raised. You scrunch your nose up in nearly concealed disgust and he laughed.
“Shut up and get over here,” he said, affectionately. You couldn't help but smile as your mouths reunited. While half your attention was focused on the kiss, the other half was focused on getting Thomas naked and on top of you. Getting him out of his pants wasn’t too difficult, pulling him on top of you was easy enough, but he was still catching his breath. The kiss became totally open-mouthed, panting as your tongues met.
“Let me do some of the work now,” you volunteered, getting out from under him. “Lay back.” Thomas seemed happy to rest and enjoy the view. You worked his jeans the rest of the way off, and tried to remember where you’d put the condom. Thomas saw you scanning the room and guessed.
“It’s in my pant’s pocket.” You fished the wrapper out of his jeans, carefully tearing it open. Best to assume this was your one chance and not waste it. You carefully rolled it on, and even that contact was enough to have Thomas’ eyes rolling back in his head. Already, you were excited to make him cum, watch him totally relax and give into your body. He seemed so ready, cheeks pink and his chest quickly flushing the same color.
“Can I ride you?” Out of habit you stroke his cock a couple times to get him completely erect, but Thomas is already there.
“Fuck yeah,” he guaffed. You straddle him, getting a hold on the base of his shaft. Hopefully the fingering wasn’t too long ago and this would be easy. Luckily it felt like his cock was lubed up when you sank down on it. You wondered how much of this was you and how much of it was his saliva.
“So, how was it?” Thomas doesn’t need any elaboration, but he does lick his lips crudely.
“You’re delicious, leprotta.” His hands rest at his sides, allowing you to integrate him at your own pace with no pressure. It's very considerate, but you want Thomas to grab you with a ferocity that borders on pain.
When you’re totally seated on his cock, you experimentally rub your clit on Thomas’ pubic bone, wiggling your hips. He gets his feet under him, the crook of his knee at a 90 degree angle, hips still resting on the ground. It pitches you forward and you catch yourself with your hands planted on the carpet just above his shoulders. You’re trying to readjust to the unfamiliar position when Thomas speaks.
“Just move naturally. It helps, just try it.” You start grinding against him, pelvis tilted downwards and find the contact with your pussy is much more direct. There's no searching for that perfect spot and trying to maintain it, because gravity has your clit pressed into his pubic hair. Everytime you rock backwards, you meet Thomas’ thighs whose angle propels you forward again. The result is that most of your range of motion is spent grinding your cunt against Thomas abdomen.
It's awkward and new at first. You’re thrown enough that it takes a while to get into a rhythm, but once you find it the sensation is transcendent. Your lids feel like they're falling open and closed, unable to focus, and you realize your eyes are rolling back in your head from pleasure.
“Yeah?” he pants, thrusting up to meet you.
“Mhm.” you nod enthusiastically, moaning open mouthed and fearless. When Thomas can’t get in time with you, he minimizes his movements and lets you use his body to get off. It’s so hot that you want him to fuck you, and struggle to verbalize their desire for several seconds.
“Want you now.”
“What do you want, leprotta? Tell me what you want,” he croons
“You. I want you now – now too,” you whimper, fingernails leaving crescent moon marks on the soft skin of his chest. As you grow closer to orgasam keeping your eyes open becomes difficult for a myriad of reasons: self-consciousness, sensation, focus.
“You want me?” His confusion was understandable, considering the wanting was very much being acted upon at this moment. “You want me on top?” he guessed. You nodded, slowing your hips and immediately missing the sensation. Thomas sat up to help you, noticing that you were unsteady from the proximity of your orgasam. He was patient as you struggled to open your eyes, held your trembling hands as you got off of him and layed down.
“Good girl,” he praised. Even though you knew he didn’t mean it that way, your body still reacted dramatically, back arching up in search of his form. Thomas held himself over you and gingerly tried to align your bodies. You reached down, grabbing a hold of his slippery shaft, and directed him inside you. Once things were in motion, Thomas thrusted to the hilt, and let out a breathy groan. You allotted him two thrusts before making demands.
“Harder.” He furiously snapped his hips against yours, the collusion an explosion of sensation. Yet, as soon as his cock was there, it was gone again. Knowing words are usually the least effective way to communicate these things, you wrapped your legs around his hips. Using this grip you held Thomas against you, showing him the kind of contact that you craved.
“Like that.” You sensed him nod more than you felt or saw it. Thomas drove his hips forward vigorously, and as soon as your bodies could be no closer, he ground against you. It had your toes curling so severely that they cramped. You tried to say his name, but could never get more than one syllable or sound out.
“Ts, ts, tho – ommy” you gasped. “Tom – ta, ahm – ah please, please.” You gave up on real speech and resorted to mindless begging. When he lifts your leg up , ankle on his shoulder, you want to scream in frustration.
“What the fuck!” You dropped your head against the flooring, rolling your eyes and stamping your planted foot. Why do men stop doing the right thing during sex as soon as they’ve found it? He actually chuckles a little bit and your attention is brought to how pretty his green eyes look when his face is flushed. Thomas is truly giving this his all, fucking you with every bit of energy he has left after a long day.
His lips are parted and during a particularly forceful thrust a drop of saliva falls onto your cheek. It really should faze you, but it doesn’t because Thomas switches from pushing into you to grinding against you. With your foot up and legs open, he’s able to make more meaningful contact with your groin, and it's a new world of sensation. This does very little for his pleasure, but it's everything for yours.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chant, the pitch of your voice climbing as your body is, towards climax. “I swear to fucking god if you stop this time,” you growl, slamming your open palm against the carpet as everything cramps up in preparation. Thomas whines, and you know it's because you’re so tight that this moment borders on painful for him. You take a couple erratic breaths and feel yourself spill over the otherside, this orgasam even better than the last. It's a total rush, sparkling serotonin starting in your abdomen then flooding your limbs and finally reaching your head.
Thomas grunts from the back of his throat during each of his final thrusts, pushing your ankle off his shoulder. His teeth are clenched and the vein in his forehead has started to make an appearance.
“Cum, I want you to cum, Tommy.” You tangle your fingers into his hair, using both hands to push it away from his face. Two conflicting things happen: Thomas starts to smile at the tenderness of your gesture, and he orgasams. Hard. His face reaxes, mouth falling open and his eyes flutter. He tries to catch himself, but ends up collapsing on you. Thomas scrambles to get his hands under him as soon as he can, but you dismiss his efforts.
“Hey, it’s okay! You’re fine, just chill here for a sec.” You stroke his head and ride out the aftershocks. Everytime your walls tense around his softening cock, Thomas’ entire body spasms. You rub his back, slow and soothingly, while kissing the crown of his head. It’s weirdly intimate for a first hookup, but the urge is organic. Thomas had just given you so much. It felt right to support him as he came back to earth.
“Um, I – sorry, I –” He strains to sit up and you shush him.
“Take your time.” Thomas relaxes against you. The moment is so sweet that you dread its ending even though it's just begun. Those feelings will likely change when he falls asleep on you.
Summary: Thomas knows you’re bisexual, but he doesn’t know the extent of your inexperience. It really hadn’t been an issue. However, now that you’re dating, he’ll have to know the truth.
TW: swearing, smut
“I’d just prefer to wait until we’re officially dating. No pressure!” Thomas acted like this wasn’t a totally nonsensical distinction.
“Yeah sure, whatever you're comfortable with, obviously.” That’s what you had told Thomas about penetrative sex two weeks ago. You’d already hooked up a couple times and it had been plenty of fun. Thomas had just assumed your nerves were typical, nothing to do with the fact that you'd never had a real live human dick in your vagina before. You’d met right before he’d left Italy to tour for a couple months, so much conversation had preceded the first date and subsequent first sexual encounter.
You were bisexual, but besides some dunken foreplay you’d had only been with women before. Cis women, is what you clarified to Thomas. He didn’t seem to grasp the meaning of that specification. Thomas was a giving lover, he was happy to go in whichever direction you were enjoying. That's why he’d gotten you off with his hand the first time, no questions asked.
As a professional guitarist, his fingers were longer than any girl you’d been with, dramatically so. It didn’t take any additional tools to reach your g-spot, just the calloused pads of his digits. No toy could replace the sensation of warm, human touch, careful to act according to observation of your reactions. Your underwear was still on when he first got his hands on you, in you. Really you couldn’t have been more desperate, fingers flitting between yanking off his clothes and your own. Thomas took the time to figure out where and how you liked your clit touched. After a moment of feeling around blindly, he’d pulled your underwear down to your ankles.
“Open your legs.” A man had never said that to you before, and the timbre of Thomas’ word gave you chills. Sitting up on his knees, Thomas’s height was intimidating, even though he didn’t mean it to be. You could feel the low tones of his voice vibrate through you and did as he asked. You’d never felt compelled to trust a man the way you freely trusted Thomas. You bucked up into his hand as he mercilessly rubbed your clit, focused on your pleasure. You’d whined out of sensitivity, and he’d moved his fingers down, along your engorged, wet labia.
He had lube ready, but it wasn’t necessary, because when he went to gently push his pointer finger inside you, Thomas met no objection. Your body accepted him, pulling him in and meeting him with plentiful lubrication. You back really started to arch when he was past the second knuckle. No one had ever touched you this deeply, so when Thomas’s finger pushed against your g-spot, you yelped in pleasure.
Thomas froze, afraid he’d hurt you, until he noticed your eyes rolling back in your head. Thomas added a second finger, and you were so into it, that the distinction of foreplay lost importance. You were squeezing down on his fingers, reacting like you’ve received a jolt of electricity when he touched your clit with his thumb. Thomas realized that he could make you cum exactly like this, so that's where he turned his focus. The more orgasams you had the better, this was about your enjoyment, your pleasure. Nothing turned Thomas on like getting his partner off. So it wasn’t an issue for the first night.
“I’m a bit rusty on this, you have to guide me.” That's what you told Thomas when you gave him a blow job on that first night, and hoped that it came off that way. You’d practiced on silicone, phallic toys, but this was the first time you’d given a blow job to another person whose body was attached to the dick in your mouth. Thomas smelled interesting, like musk and soap. His pre-cum was opaque and salty, but not offensive. Adapting to having a live moving target was challenging, but you managed not to gag. All in all, dicks weren’t nearly as bad as you’d braced for, and you paid special attention to Thomas’ directions.
“Ah, fuck!” Was that pain or pleasure? “You’re good, babe. Wait, too much teeth, no teeth.” You focused on covering your teeth with your lips. “That's not enough baby, too slow. Faster.” You sped up trying to keep an even pace, chanting “don’t gag” in your head. “That’s good baby, that’s good. Just a little more.” Thomas put pressure on the back of your head with his hand and you tried not to panic. He seemed to feel you freeze and the hand that had pushed you down moved to stroke your hair instead. Everytime he hit a tangle, he’d stop, oh so careful not to pull your hair. It was so sweet and considerate you wanted to scream. You tried to go deeper, focusing on not gagging, along with everything else, while your jaw got sore.
You knew the sound of a person nearing orgasam, gender didn’t matter. The little whimpers and whines Thoams made while you were sucking him off were invigorating. You wanted to make him moan, make his eyes roll back, impress him with your sexual prowess somehow. When his hips started jolting, threatening disaster, you just pinned them down and Thomas didn’t seem to mind.
“I’m gonna come, y/n” he whimpered. You pulled off in plenty of time, with the second rope of cum, staining your chest. You’d never considered that semen would have a smell, but you didn’t mind it. In fact, the idea that this was how fucking Thomas smelled, that you could give a name to it, was erotic. When you pulled off and looked down, a ring of saliva was wetting the public hair around the base of Thomas’ cock.The trail of hair down from Thomas’s belly button was marred with cum. Out of pure curiosity, you leant down and licked it, off of the sensitive skin of Thomas’s tummy. It was viscous, also salty, and carried some of Thomas’s musk in its taste.
As you cleaned your lips of his spunk, Thomas stared at you, mouth hanging open in wonder. You noticed the effect eating his cum had, and whipped some of it off yourself, bringing your hand to your mouth. You made a show of licking it clean and watched Thomas’ eyes become even more hooded as you turned him on. His attention was glorious, so you decided to take it a step further. You used Thomas’s cum to make your nipple slick, rubbing it and pinching it until the sensation reached your core like an electrical shock.
He sat up to take your other nipple in his mouth, sucking ruthlessly, before taking it between his teeth. While shifting position, you ended up losing balance when one of his legs was between your own. You land down on his thigh, by accident, moaning in surprise. Thigh riding when substantial body hair was involved felt so much better. There was something substantial to maintain friction against, instead of just skin and peach fuzz. You couldn’t resist the opportunity because the wiry texture of Thomas’ leg hair actually felt like something. His incarnadine cock was nestled in the blond thicket of his pubic hair. Thomas seemed happy to be used as the conduit for your pleasure. His cock perked up the more you desperately sought the friction to reach orgasam. You came this way, trembling as you straddled his thigh.
“Fuck!” Thomas’ breathing was equally labored. Considering you’d just cum via an ab workout, you were confused as to why he was tired. He pulled you in for a kiss while you settled into the afterglow. It was slow, with barely any tongue, but so passionate that your mouths were slick with too much spit. Excess saliva stopped mattering two orgasams ago. Friends had warned you that guys use tongue like a toilet brush, but the way Thomas undulated that muscle in your mouth was undeniably delicate. One forearm wrapped around the dimples at the bottom of your back, pulling your whole torso flush against his.
“Thomas,” you whined his name with an uncharacteristic amount of ease. Usually it took the internal dialogue of I want to moan, but they’d find it hotter if I said their name, wait what's their name? With Thomas it was an easy way of giving praise. You rose up on your knees, a head above him, admiring his light brown eye lashes. Where you asked for power, he was happy to give, tilting his chin up with a loopy smile. He bumped his nose against yours, sweetly asking for another kiss, looking up at you in admiration. You obliged him, using more tongue now that you had control. When he started panting frantically into your mouth, you used the opportunity to say what you’d meant to, while giving him a break.
“Thank you.” Thank you for being tender and kind. Thank you for making my long time reunion with male genitalia my best experience yet. Thank you for doing that thing with your fingers, holy shit. Thank you for not living up to any of my bad expectations. Thank you for affirming my identity. You couldn’t say that because Thomas didn’t know about your particular brand of inexperience, yet. It didn’t seem that your words had registered anyways.
Thomas’ breathing didn’t calm, in fact he pulled you closer to him by wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging your abdomen to his body. He kissed a line up between your breasts and rested his forehead on your sternum. The collusion of his exhales with your sticky skin and the worship of his lips was more intimate than you’d prepared yourself for. It was like your body was the altar for his devotion. This wasn’t the quick fix objectification you’d braced for with men. Thomas was so totally present in the moment with you.
You did discover the source of the ragged rhythm of Thomas’ breath when you shifted your leg and bumped into his fully erect cock. I thought guys only got hard once unless you really worked them over. You froze up, and tried not to panic. You hadn’t planned for this. Meanwhile, Thomas had moved to pressing the sweetest kisses into the soft tissue of your stomach, holding you by your hips. You began stroking his hair, as he had yours. He wasn’t rushing you towards some finish, in fact he made these adorable little happy noises in his throat. Thomas loved having his hair touched. Of course he did.
You bent your face down to smell the top of Thomas' head. A little bit of shampoo was still detectable, nearly indiscernible from the day's hair product that left his strands textured. Better still, the sweet, heady scent of the crown of his head and the stench of his sweat, made your breath in through your mouth. Olfactory senses were not enough, you needed to taste too. You wanted Thomas’s pheromones on your tongue because you could already feel them warm in your chest, throbbing in your groin, lubricating your cunt.
I’m fucking screwed you thought, grinning despite yourself. I’m so attracted to this guy that I’m huffing his sweat. Get a grip y/n. Get a grip indeed. You plunged your hand between your bodies, gripping Thomas’ erection and in your fist. He let out an unbridled moan that would have bordered on humorous out of context. You try to move your hand at the speed Thomas had wanted you to work your mouth, it was a very rough estimate. You had all of the enthusiasm and none of the skill, but Thomas made you brave. Instead of lips against your chest, Thomas returned with his whole tongue, licking the place that sweat had begun to collect between your breasts.
“Lube, baby. Lube” Thomas gestured to the bedside table, where the bottle rested, as he spoke. You reached over to get it and Thomas leaned back, so he was laying on the bed. You realized that squirting it straight on his dick wasn’t the move when Thomas hissed unpleasantly at the sensation.
“Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t think that it’d be cold I -”
“You’re fine, you’re fine y/n.” He smiled reassuringly before his eyes rolled back as you squeezed hard on the upstroke. Thomas pushed his hips up, so he was thrusting into your hand at a quick pace. You attempted to keep up with him, but he stilled your movements with a hand on your wrist. You were no longer giving a hand job, Thomas was fucking himself into your palm. You just focused on tightening your grip infinitesimally as he got closer and closer to orgasm.
“C’mon Thomas, you’re doing such a good job,” you murmured. It was a genuine compliment, and only after did you realize it may come off as demeaning. He didn’t react that way, however. Thomas let out a whimper that transformed into another moan, and his back arched off the bed. “God, you’re so beautiful.” You’d never considered that boys arch their back too, but Thomas did. He put his body on display in front of you, as he jolted erratically, so close to his orgasam.
“Thomas, I want you to cum in my hand.” Even amidst the throes of pleasure, Thomas nodded desperately in agreement. “I know you’re close, I can see it.” He was the type of pale that displayed blush like a work of art. His cheeks were rosy, his chest blotchy. Thomas was even blushing around his thighs, pink from fiction, entire form painted with the evidence of his arousal.
He was messy, sweaty, and so close to finishing. His right hand was wound in the comforter, but the left was searching for something to hold on to. His gorgeous long fingers feeling about, and you, without giving your body explicit permission, surged forward and held his hand in your own. It took only a moment of fumbling for your fingers to lace together. Thomas squeezed hard, and you squeezed in return, with both hands. The extra pressure triggered his second orgasam, and your grip grounded him the whole way through.
So it was easy to see how two weeks later you’d be exclusive, dating that is, officially so. While Thomas may not have felt the pressure, you surely did. You’d been avoiding opportunities to have sex, so you could continue to avoid telling Thomas the truth. What if is Catholic upbringing made him see you as a virgin? Would he feel deceived and reject you? Boys avoided virgins for their reputation of clinginess and that would hurt the worst, by far. If Thomas rejected you for that reason, a bit of your heart would break off forever.
It's not like you hadn’t considered biting the bullet: fuck now, tell Thomas later. However, you didn’t want to have that type of relationship, where things were done with shame and secrets. You also knew that your body would betray you if you tried to force things. To put it in your gynecologist's terms: you had tight pelvic floor muscles. To put it in Cardi B’s terms: you had a tight ass pussy.
“I thought things were perfect?” Damiano raised his eyebrows in a way Thomas found infuriating.
“They are perfect...except for this.” Thomas let out an angry breath, pacing the rehearsal room.
“Who starts dating someone, and then starts avoiding sex? I don’t get it.” Yeah, me neither!
“Well I don’t think it’s that confusing,” quips Victoria. “You said she hasn’t been with a guy in a while, she might just be intimidated.” She’s leaning against the insulated studio wall in a giant white t-shirt.
“I think you should just ta -” Ethan gets cut off by the more boisterous band members.
“But she has been with a guy recently. Me!” Thomas was aware he was beginning to sound a bit hysterical, but in his head he’d been going around in circles for hours.
“I know you didn’t have a fight, but did you say something to upset her? Daminao seemed to be grasping at straws too.
“Maybe because it’s her first time in a proper relationship with a guy? You said she hadn’t had a boyfriend before. Add the Maneskin situation on top, it could be scary.”
“Victoria, we’ve been over this, if it was Maneskin stuff she would have just told me. We talk for hours on the phone.” Thomas is gesticulating wildly, while the others sit back, like onlookers at the zoo.
“Ok wait,” Ethan speaks up. “So she’s not avoiding you, she’s just avoiding seeing you in person.”
“Well then it is physical,” concludes Damiano.
“Even if she was intimidated, why would that suddenly become an issue because of our relationship status?” He waited for the others to clue him in, but was just met with mystified expressions. Thomas harshly rubbed his face, growling into his palms with frustration.
“Okay, but nothing bad happened the other times?” It was a vaguely phrased question, but Thomas still felt slimy talking about the sex life of someone he was barely even dating with all his bandmates.
“No, nothing! She was inexperienced, but -”
“How inexperienced?” interrupted Damiano, emphatically. Thomas caught the implication.
“Not that inexperienced, she’s just basically only been with women. But she is very much into it, trust me!”
“Okay, I don’t doubt she’s into you Thomas, but -”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Vic held up a hand to pause the conversation. “When you say basically, what do you mean exactly?” Thomas felt himself scrambling to recall under Victoria’s pointed gaze.
“She said that she’d been in relationships with women only, and fooled around with a couple guys, but not in a long time.”
“Okay…” Vic nodded her head, processing the information. Thomas snapped his fingers upon remembering your exact words.
“‘Cis women!’ She said she said she’d only been with cis women.” He could actually see the light bulb go on in Vic’s brain.
“Oh! Wow, I’m stupid for thinking of this before. So um -” she was looking for a tactful way to articulate this, but Thomas had no patience.
“What, Victoria? What!”
“Okay, okay, Thomas she’s um - she’s never had a real dick before.” Each band member came to understand at a different speed. First Ethan let out a small “oh,” then Damiano’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and Thomas looked around confused.
“What does that -”
“When she said she’d fooled around with a couple guys, she meant she never fucked them. If she’s only had sex with cis women, she’s never had sex with a woman with a penis.” Victoria paused for a deep breath “Ergo you’re her first real dick. Hopefully, she’s encountered silicone ones before.”
“It’s important that you don’t pressure her,” added Ethan, softly.
“I’m not!” Thomas finally snapped “It’s the opposite! She wanted to wait until we were official, I was fine with it! I didn’t understand why, but now I do, obviously. It makes sense.”
“So it seems like she needs a little more time -”
“And you have to be okay with that, don’t fucking rush her.” Ethan’s tone was gentle, Vic’s less so.
“I don’t care about the sex, I just fucking miss the way she smells in the morning. I miss her!” Thomas scanned the faces around him. “And stop looking at me like I’m a wounded puppy!”
“Then go fucking talk to her!”
Notes: Sorry that this was a little late! This piece was inspired by a post on @mywritingonlyfans When I started writing this smut it inspired me to write Informal Introductions, so that’s why there’s a bit if redundancy. Figured I post it anyways 🤷🏻♀️. Anyone want to send me a good text break marker? Also a couple of the usernames on my tag list didn’t work so if you didn’t get tagged just resubmit you’re info and I’ll see if that fixes it.
How you met them and what dating the members of Måneskin would be like
GN!reader, slight NSFW for Damiano *Masterlist*
Vic
You'd definitely meet Vic at the grocery store
She goes grocery shopping every Saturday at 10 am, and you don't know that because you're creepy, you know that because you do as well (being an adult and such)
Over time, you'd both start to notice seeing each other at the same times and places
Vic would eventually come over, after having traded more than a dozen looks with you
At first, she would give you a random complement (that made your heart soar for reasons unbeknownst to you at the time), and you would immediately compliment her back because there are so many things to complement about the unknown girl at the shops
Those random complements would soon turn into full blown conversations that you both looked forward to, every Saturday at 10 am
Conversations turned into doing your grocery shopping together
Vic would ask you to lunch after one of your grocery shopping adventures, which you gladly accepted given the beautiful woman had stolen your heart at first glance
Lunch would go absolutely swimmingly, and it became the new thing
Your relationship with Vic would evolve from doing your grocery shopping together, then having lunch, to basically spending every Saturday together, then seeing each other other days of the week
One night, having drinks at Vic's place, just the two of you, Vic would join your lips together in a sweet harmony that felt all too right
You brushed off the night as drunken kissing
But she held you hand at lunch that following Saturday, and asked to kiss you before you parted ways
The conversation was bound to happen, and it did. After that, you and Vic were officially an item
She introduced you to her friends, and you did the same - your group loving Vic, and her's loving you
Dating Vic would be full of gentle love bites on your tender neck, fruity red wine, painting your nails matching colours, and late nights
On those late nights, Vic would hold you close, a film playing softly in the back, while her attention laid on you
You, her person, her rock. You made Vic's heart go ablaze and she wouldn't trade you for the world
Nor would you for her
Thomas
Thomas gives off strong Boy-Next-Door vibes
One day, your interest was sparked by moving vans outside your window - someone was moving into the flat above you
It was a very loud day (furniture scraping the floors, heavy boxes being dropped, many feet with much too heavy footsteps) but you were baking
You had a function to attend to the following day, so your day was already planned as a day for baking your famous biscuits that literally everyone loved
Ingredients may have a price tag, but kindness does not. Once all the noise subsided, you brought a plate of cookies up to your new neighbour (hoping to at least buy their friendship so they wouldn't annoy you constantly)
When Thomas opened the door, your stomach immediately turned to static
He looked a little tired, no doubt from freshly moving in, but his beauty was still breathtaking
Thomas smiled at you sweetly and thanked you profusely for the biscuits - he told you about how his grandmother made the same type and he loved them
The next day, right after you'd come back from your function, Thomas brought you back the plate with a bashful smile - 'The biscuits were divine, better than grandmama's'
You giggled at his statement, then invited him in for tea and to finish off the biscuits that were "left over" (you'd actually saved them for yourself, but there was no one else you'd rather share them with)
Happily for the both of you, Thomas accepted the invitation, and he stayed in your flat, drinking tea with you and eating biscuits, till the wee hours of the next day
You and Thomas shared smiles from your balconies and the street below, but when you'd be walking the stairs together, it always turned into an invitation for a drink, or to watch a game, or just a chat
About a month and a half of friendship, Thomas asked you to the cinema
You gladly went with him
In the middle of the film, your hands bumped together, both reaching for the popcorn on your lap - resulting in heated faces and looking away
Thomas walked you back to your flat that night, leaving you with a kiss on the cheek and legs made of jelly
That next day, Thomas asked you to dinner
'Is this a date or just a hang out?'
'It can be whatever you'd like.'
To no one's surprise, you chose the former option
You never officially confirmed your dating status, but you'd figure Thomas introducing you to his family as his partner was confirmation enough
Dating Thomas would include him singing you mellow songs in the evenings, longing glances shared across rooms, lots of tea at all hours of the day, and extremely stupid jokes that turned sickeningly sweet
Those jokes would occupy your mind for days on end, cherishing every single joke shared
Ethan
As cliche as it sounds, you'd meet in a bar
There was a game on between Lazio and Milan - and you both were dragged there by your friends
People clamored around the bar and television screens, screaming and yelling, and everyone decked out in jerseys (the Lazio jerseys outnumbered the Milan jerseys 3:1)
Funnily enough, you met Ethan in the corridor for the toilets
'With a line this long, I might as well piss outside'
For a first impression, Ethan really did make an impression. One that made you laugh and his cheeks tint red at the knowledge that someone heard him say that
It sparked a conversation while you both waited in the long lines
You discovered that neither of you held too much of a love of football, which absolutely tickled you that someone was in the same boat as you
Ethan waited outside the washroom for you, then suggested you both go outside for a smoke
With a drunken smile (the only way to get through a football match is to drink, lets be real), you agreed and told the friends you came with where you'd be disappearing to
Outside, you and Ethan shared three fags each and lots of laughter and conversation
Surprisingly to Ethan's friends, when everyone came pouring out of the bar after the game finished, Ethan had you pressed against the wall in a heated kiss
While being the most shy member of the band, Ethan reacted the most prominently to liquid courage, which you were more than okay with
You traded information, and the next day, you woke up to a sweet text from Ethan, asking you to a cafe to get to know each other in a sober environment
No complaints, you went
Ethan was just as funny as he was last night, and neither of you stopped smiling the entire time you were together
You saw each other quite often after that; sharing the occasional kiss, but full of laughter and stupid faces in silent moments
Eventually, you got brave and asked for Ethan to be your boyfriend
His face and ears went bright red, and he immediately looked to his slender fingers, chuckling nervously - but he happily agreed
Dating Ethan would include a hell of a lot of cuddles, lots of reassurance, few kisses but very meaningful kisses, and more laughter than you've ever shared with anyone else
Ethan will make you one of the happiest people on Earth, and in exchange, he is the happiest, just to have you in his arms in the mornings (even if you drool on him in your sleep)
Damiano
Without a doubt, you'd meet Damiano at a bar
There wouldn't be a game one, it was just a Friday night, and you felt like cutting loose with your idiot friends, whom you very much loved
Damiano would spot you immediately
You, of course, had already spotted him, but your friends were drooling over him, and every single person in the bar was as well, so you just put him out of your mind
That is, until he swaggered right up to you while you were grabbing drinks for your friends who were all on the dance floor
His expensive scent intoxicated you better than any booze behind the bar, making your skin tingle immediately. Damiano radiated heat, but that could've just been how warm it was in the bar from all the people
As the bartender was mixing your drinks, Damiano asked you your name
'A beautiful name for a beautiful person'
You thought he was just looking for a one-night stand, which you were actually quite down for
However, the night was still young, and you still had drinks to deliver to your friends, so you thanked him for the compliment and sauntered off to your friends with the drinks in hand
They called you a myriad of names for you basically turning Damiano down to do what? To dance with people you'd known for years?
Fortunately, walking off hadn't deterred Damiano
His eyes were on you for the entire night, until you built enough nerve to approach him
It didn't take too long for him to offer to bring you back to his place - you didn't need more than a second to accept
That night didn't lead to sex, however. Damiano thought you to be drunk to give him any meaningful consent, so he just left you to sleep in his bed, while he took the couch
When you woke up, you wrote your number with the lipstick in your purse on his bathroom mirror, and you left without a sound to wake him up
He called you that same day and invited you to the bar again
The entire weekend was spent going to the bar, sleeping either with or at Damiano's, which suited you just fine
Unfortunately, you had an actual job that required you to go to work, so when he invited you out on Sunday, you had to decline, then again on Monday
Tuesday, however, you invited him to your place for a couple drinks and you ended up falling asleep on his shoulder on the couch
Damiano woke up with you for your job and stayed with you as you got ready that morning, smiling at you through the mirror of your bathroom
Soon enough, your nightly encounters turned into real dates that changed location and theme constantly
Damiano was spontaneous and you loved it
He'd call you the cutest pet names under the sun, and bring you everywhere you were willing to go with him
Damiano never called you his partner; you were his lover
When you'd be alone, he always referred to you as 'Y/n, the light of my life, the only flower in my field, the cream in my jeans'
Made you blush like mad, but that was Damiano's favourite part
Dating Damiano would include doing each other's eyeliner, lots of PDA, reading side by side on the couch with a record playing softly, never falling asleep alone
Sleeping beside Damiano was like sleeping next to a furnace, so blankets were never needed, but cuddling was required
(photo creds to the holy artist herself, @gretavanflipflop)
Summary: Three times you caught Father Joshua’s attention, and the one time you actually did something about it.
Pairing: Josh Kiszka x fem!reader
Word Count: 6.8k
Warnings: NSFW (18+, MINORS DNI), Priest!Josh, religious themes, unprotected sex, dirty talk, degradation, cursing, oral sex (m&f receiving), semi-public sex, LOTS of blasphemy (they fuck in a church), desecration of holy objects, references to the hot priest in Fleabag
You jogged down the gravel pathway with the sleeves of your sweater pressed to your head, the flimsy cotton fabric sticking to your skin. The roaring downpour drowned out all your thoughts as rainwater splashed after every step. You squinted through the gloom of the night, eyes landing on a faint light glowing just outside of the massive church doors. The rosary beads dug deeper into your neck as you hurried towards the church.
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