Latenight snack
qifrey x f reader
nsfw, oral (f receiving), qifrey is really needy in this fic..
The nightly hours had long since seeped through the window, bathing the room in an array of shadows that seemed to swallow up what little light was coming from the sputtering candle sitting beside you. The wax has nearly melted down to a stump, and the flame seemed to be on its last life.
Though you couldn't be bothered to get up and change it, not when you were so focused on the array of papers in front of you. Ink stained the tips of your fingers and the side of your hands where they'd been pressed up against the paper. You know you should probably get up; the muscles in your legs are starting to ache and the fog of sleep is tugging at the throngs of your mind.
Sleep would be easier, you know that, but something stops from getting up and going to the comfort of your bed.
A low groan pushes its way past your lips as you finally put down the quill that had been glued to your fingers just moments and lean back in your chair. The muscles in your aching body pop as you stretch your arms over your head with a satisfied sigh before letting them fall back down to your sides.
Some of the tension bleeds from your shoulders as you finally allow yourself a moment of rest, your eyes fluttering shut as your back presses into the cold surface of the chair's wooden backrest.
You don't know how many moments pass before the sound of the door opening, and then the familiar steps that follow, echoes through the quiet of the room. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders. The heat from his body radiates through his clothes, seeping into your skin and sending the tiniest shiver coursing down your spine.
You're sure he noticed because if you didn't know any better, you'd think you felt a smile on his lips from where his face was pressed into your hair.
"Qifrey." The quiet sound of your voice sends heat coursing through each notch of his spine, even just his name on your tongue makes his heart flutter in a way that reminds him of a lovesick schoolboy.
Not that he's complaining.
His arms seem to tighten around you as he shifts against the back of the chair. And if you didn't know any better, you'd say he was almost...restless. His fingers seemed to be constantly rubbing against what little skin of your shoulders was peeking out from beneath the fabric of your pajamas and every few moments you'd feel his cheek rubbing against the top of your head, like a cat scenting something its claimed as its own.
"Mm?" The hum he let out vibrated against the top of your head, his arms tightening against your shoulders once more like he was afraid you'd disappear if he didn't hold on tight enough.
You can't help the small smile that stretches across your face as you shift against the chair before you reach up and place your hand on top of his own.
"What are you still doing up?" Your finger shift, brushing over each of his own and tracing over the shape of his knuckles.
The huff that pushes its way past his lips ruffles the strands of your hair and brushes against the back of your neck, causing goosebumps to erupt across the skin.
"I think I should be asking you that." His words were murmured against the top of your head, each syllable vibrating against your hair, before he's linking his fingers through your own and resting them against your chest. "Why haven't you come to bed?"
Your heart beats against his hand. Thump, thump, thump. He takes a moment to just feel each movement of the organ like it's his favorite past time. Which, most of the time, it is.
"I've just been working on a few things." Yeah. 'A few.' You really didn't mean to work for so long, it was just so hard to put down the quill. And anytime you thought you were close to finishing you just ended up finding even more sheets of paper, so was it really your fault at the end of the day?
"I promise I'll join you soon, okay?" Even you don't believe the lie on your own tongue, so you doubt he would.
"Hm." Looking back towards him, you swear you see a pout on his lips. It almost makes you feel bad. Almost. But you really do need to finish up these papers, so you power through the guilt that courses through your veins.
"Please Qifrey? I promise I'll be there soon." For a moment you think he'll protest against your words, maybe drag you to bed anyways. But to your surprise he doesn't, all he does is press a kiss to your head and unloop his arms from around your shoulders.
"Alright. Just don't take long, please?" The way he says 'please' sounds almost desperate, and that combined with the pout on his face sends a strange heat curling through your gut. If your will had been any weaker you probably would've gotten up out of this chair and followed him wherever he wanted.
But you manage to hold back. Just barely.
"Thank you." The only response he gives you is a small hum as he walks back towards the door. Now, while your will is strong that doesn't stop you from letting your eyes travel over the length of his back as he leaves the room.
...
You're really starting to regret not going to bed with him. With a deep sigh you reluctantly turn back towards the desk, looking down at the papers like they're your worst enemy. Which they might as well be. This is going to be a long night.
Your back aches. You can't tell how long you've been hunched over this desk trying to finish up these papers, time seems to have slipped away from you. The candle has long since went out, but you've been too focused on the task at hand to get up and go get a new candle. Though you know it would probably help the strain on your eyes if you did.
A quiet sigh pushes its way past your lips as regret finally begins to seep its way back into your veins. Your mind slips back towards the idea of your bed, of laying down next to your husband and just sinking down into his warmth. And yet something stops you from getting up and just walking towards the bedroom.
You were so caught up in the depths of your thoughts that you hadn't even noticed the door creaking open or the familiar figure slipping in through the crack.
No. You were too focused on the exhaustion that was already beginning to weigh down on your aching body. Before you know it your eyes are fluttering shut and your head is slumping against your palms.
Would it be so bad if you just let yourself rest for a moment? You're so tempted to just let yourself slip away.
Just when you feel your mind beginning to sleep, something warm settles on your thighs. It startles you awake instantly. You nearly jump out of your skin, and the chair, as you snap back up, heart thundering in your chest. What the hell--
But then your eyes finally land on the culprit it nearly sends heat bursting throughout your body.
Qifrey sits, kneeled between your open thighs, with the most pitiful expression you think you've ever seen grace his face. It almost undoes you right then and there. Oh. If only he knew just how tempting he was.
"Qifrey?" Your voice is quiet, quieter than you'd anticipated. And you're sure he can hear the physical strain that it takes to force his name past your lips without it sounding like a moan. He doesn't say anything, not at first, all he does is lean closer, nuzzling his cheek against your thigh like a needy puppy.
Just the sight of him like this sends a familiar wetness between your legs. You don't think you've ever been more thankful for the darkness of the room because your cheeks feel like they're burning as hot as the sun and you're sure if he didn't look so desperate right now he probably would've commented on the deep color. And you're not sure if you could handle it right now. Definitely not.
"Qifrey what are you doing?" That only seems to make his pout deepen, like he's offended you don't know what he's trying to do. Or what he's trying to convey. For a moment, all he does is stare up at you and a small part of you thinks he might start crying. But the tears never come. No, instead he leans in closer, resting his cheek against your upper thigh. And a little, embarrassed, part of you is tempted to push him away from where your mind is screaming to let him go.
"You said you'd be finished soon." Ah. That's right, you'd promised. You must have been so caught up in your work that you'd forgotten. That only makes the guilt in your chest deepen. "I've been waiting. Ages."
Yeah, you can definitely feel the guilt starting to creep in.
"Ah...I'm really sorry. I promise I didn't mean to work for so long, I just got distracted." The pout on his face seems to soften at your words, but it looks like his sense of betrayal still hasn't lightened up.
"Hm." A hum. That's the only response you get from him. And if you're being honest, it makes you a little nervous. Is he mad? Is he gonna go to bed by himself and give you the silent treatment? He's not the one to usually do that, especially not to you, but maybe this is what really got him mad enough to do exactly that.
You can already feel the combination of guilt and nerves prickling up your spine as you gaze down at him. And you're about to say something before the words are ripped from your throat as he pulls you close to the edge of the chair.
Oh.
Heat flashes across your body in a frenzy and the feeling alone nearly steals the breath from your lungs and makes your head fuzzy. You open your mouth, whether to respond or let out a noise is hard for you to answer for yourself. Either way nothing ends up coming out. No word. No single syllable. Not even a little squeak. Your mouth just hangs open for a bit before you ultimately decide to close it.
"You've been so busy. Working night after night." His hands shift up, traveling the length of your thighs until they rest just beneath the hem of your shirt. You have to bite back a gasp. "Leaving me all by myself. Have I even been on your mind? Or are you to focused on your paperwork?" You're about to protest when you feel his fingers slowly inch their way towards the waistband of your pants, and it feels like the words have just been torn from your chest.
You hate how good he is at this.
...
(Not really).
"I think about you." The words come out quieter than you'd hoped. And you can hear the strain behind each syllable. "Don't make me out to be the bad guy..."
His fingers only move further, slowly inching down the material of your pants, like he's trying to get his get back. A huff pushes its way past his lips, the warm puff of air brushing against your thigh, as his eye shifts up towards your own. Despite the agonizing path he's decided to take with you, that doesn't stop his eye from betraying how he really feels. You can see the heat and the need swirling in the blue depths and it almost undoes you right then and there.
"You are the bad guy." He doesn't waste any more time in yanking down the material of your pants, maybe because of his own impatience, and tossing them to the side, leaving you exposed to the chill of the air and the heat of his gaze. You're almost tempted to squeeze your legs shut.
"I haven't had you in days...don't you know what that does to me?" With each word he seems to shuffle closer and closer until his chin is practically resting against the curve of your stomach. He looks like a kicked puppy and you can't deny the stutter in your chest or the heat between your legs. "You're so selfish...and mean..."
He's definitely playing this up. There's no way he isn't. And there's a small part of you that knows deep down he's enjoying every single part of this.
You somehow manage to raise a hand up, even though it feels as heavy as a ton of metal, and rest it against his head, fingers carding through those familiar white strands. "I said I was sorry." Though the look in his eye tells you that your apology is far from accepted.
"Hmph." Before you can even utter anything else he's deft hands are forcing your thighs apart. All you can do is stare down at him in surprise. But when you see the look on his face any protest you might've thought of vanishes in an instant.
He looks...hungry.
"You have to make it up to me." His voice is so quiet that you almost miss his words. The way he says them is strained, like he has to force each one past his lips, and you can feel the way his hands are trembling against the meat of your thighs. Like he's holding himself back. Which he probably is.
"Qifrey..." Hearing his name on your lips nearly undoes him right then and there. His lips part with a quiet whine that sends a shiver rushing down your spine before he's leaning forward and rubbing his face against your thighs like a touch starved dog. His dick strains painfully against the loose material of his pants like he's about to burst any second. Which he feels like he might, especially if you keep sounding like that and look at him like that.
"Please." His voice sounds almost breathless. "Please, please please...I'm hungry. So, so, so hungry." You swear you can see tears forming at the corner of his eye. "Can't you see how famished I am? Are you really going to let me starve? You're not that cruel...are you?"
His words are coming out faster than his brain seems to be catching up, each syllable flurrying past his lips like he can't force them out quick enough. And with each word that comes out his body seems to inch closer and closer towards your own. You can feel the way his breath fans out against your bare folds and it nearly makes you moan right then and there.
You manage to hold the noise in but you can't stop the shiver that rushes down your spine or the way your body seems to respond to him before your brain can manage to catch up.
"Look at her. She's oozing, so wet for me isn't she?" ...Is he talking to what you think he's talking to? If you were being honest you'd thought he'd been talking to you for a moment, but that thought is quickly squashed when his thumb finds its place on that small bundle of nerves he's so intimately familiar with.
It feels so much harder keeping in your sounds that are so desperately trying to escape from your lips, especially when he's rubbing such quick circles against your clit. Though he's always been good with his fingers, much to ur own dismay. And his pleasure.
"Qifrey!" You moan his name, loud and unabashed in the quiet of the room, and you swear he looks like you'd just told him he never had to eat vegetables again.
He doesn't waste anytime, whether from impatience or desperation you can't tell, before he's tilting his head forward. Warm puffs of air brush against your puffy folds and the sensation almost makes you whine. His eye shifts up towards your own for a split second, looking for one last glimpse of confirmation, before he's diving in.
The once quiet room is now filled with the combined sounds of his obscene slurping and the moans you're trying to keep muffled behind the warmth of your palm.
Your head is swimming and all you can focus on is the feeling of his tongue tracing over your weeping slit, gathering the wetness like it's the last meal he'll ever eat. And the thought of it only makes you gush over his eager fingers even more.
"You...you taste...so good.." You almost miss his words through the haze of your pleasure. "Heavenly...oh god...please don't stop..." Each word vibrates against your fold, sending jolts of pleasure rushing down your spine with each syllable. You have to tangle your fingers through those white strands of hair just to ground yourself and keep your mind from blanking from sheer bliss. "Let me taste more of you."
It's hard to focus on anything other than the sounds of his obscene slurping and the feeling of lips latching onto your clit as his fingers work so diligently at your weeping hole.
Each movement sends the knot in your stomach curling tighter and tighter...and it seems like it hasn't escaped his pleasure hazed mind. You feel the way his movements get faster, sloppier--like he's so desperate to see you finish. Which you wouldn't put past him.
Your moans grow louder, your fingers curl tighter against the strands of his hair, and your thighs tremble against the chair, threatening to encompass his head.
"Oh god..." Heat courses through every inch of your body and you can feel a sheen of sweat across your forehead. "Qifrey!" Your head falls back against the headrest with a barely audible thump as your eyes squeeze shut with the effort of trying to focus on the pleasure your feeling.
The knot in your gut grows tighter and tighter until...
SNAP!
Your thighs clench around his head, squeezing tight, as your release gushes across his eager tongue. Tremors rack through your body as he eases you through the aftershocks with his mouth.
For a moment you two just stay there, your thighs bracketing his ears and his head buried between the plump flesh. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath and once you've finally come down from your high you manage to pry your thighs away from his head.
The sight of him almost sends another wave of heat coursing through your gut.
His hair is messy from where your fingers had been buried in the white strands, his eyes are blown wide from the aftershocks of his own pleasure, and his face is still stained with your release.
It almost undoes you right there. And when you finally let your eyes travel lower they lock onto the lingering bulge beneath the dark fabric of his trousers.
...
"May we go to bed now?"
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mkay guys so if you didn't notice I locked in and made my writing format better. smirks. I'll try to go back and rewrite my other fics.