EATING OUT! (or something)
summary: mark teaches his viltrumite girlfriend about oral sex cw: nsfw, cunnilingus, hair pulling, face fucking, mark is down bad, etc.
Mark likes kissing—meeting your mouths together again and again until his inexperienced lungs are burning for air and he’s forced to pull away. Even then, he touches your noses together, cradling your face in his warm hands and kissing the corners of your lips.
“Let me,” he babbles, breath hot and damp against your mouth, “let me eat you out. Please.”
You pause, briefly trying to decipher what he could possibly mean this time. Humans have so many different names for things. They also have that especially annoying habit of using metaphors instead of actually saying what they mean. Could this be one of those?
Though he does kiss you like he’s trying to eat you alive—hungry and deep, biting at your lips and sucking your tongue into his mouth with soft, satisfied sounds in the back of his throat that make your skin prickle and grow hot.
You frown, frustrated, “Is that not what you’re doing?”
“No, it’s,” his throat bobs as he swallows, then licks his lips. He tugs at the waistband of your borrowed sweatpants (wonderful human clothing, in your opinion), runs a finger over the hair between your legs and ventures further down to feel the warm wetness gathered there.
Mark lets out one of those soft little whimpers that makes it feel like your blood is on fire. You watch him silently, tilting your head when he tugs the sweatpants down and goes along with them on his knees. His hands nudge your thighs, and you widen your stance to give him space. He plants a kiss on your clit, then takes it between his lips and sucks. Pleasure crackles up your spine and sizzles down your limbs.
You experimentally rock forwards, releasing an admittedly shaky sigh through your mouth, and slip a hand into his soft, windswept hair. He opens his eyes, looks up at you through his lashes with those sweet brown eyes he inherited from his human mother. Mark’s hands go around, greedily groping at your ass, encouraging you to keep moving. He drags the flat of his tongue along the seam of your cunt, dips it into your hole with a hungry groan.
You tighten your hand into a fist, give his hair a sharp tug, and he whines against you. The vibrations make your hips stutter in their rhythm, and you make a little disgruntled noise at the loss of control.
Mark’s nails dig into your skin, hard enough to gravely harm someone more fragile—weaker. You, however, will have bruises at most. His pupils are blown wide, the color of his eyes gone black. The look he gives you is so pathetic that it makes you shiver in delight. Were it anyone else, their skull would be crushed under your heel.
His mouth is smeared with your arousal, and it drips down his chin in thick, glossy rivulets when he pulls back. “S’okay. Just—just use me,” his voice is raw, his words slurred with a need you’ve only heard when he’s inside you. “Keep going. Fuck my face.”
He’s giving you the green light—again, one of those human idioms, not yours. You grasp the sides of his skull (gently, you don’t want to hurt him) and guide him back between your legs.
Soft, whiny moans are muffled against you, uttered between obscene sounding slurps and greedy gulps. Your breathing quickens, hips rolling and bucking into his hungry mouth—swiping your swollen clit against that cute, slightly upturned nose of his—while your hands hold him however you please. Like always, he’s more than eager to let you take control, pliant under your touch and gripping your legs like you’re the only thing keeping him upright.
Eventually, you feel your release come with a wave of wetness, which he desperately laps up and nuzzles his nose against your clit to coax more out of you until the tension bleeds from your body. You sigh in satisfaction, then slowly release him to let him catch his breath. He rests his head against your thigh, nuzzles against your skin with a drunken smile. You thoughtfully pet his head, softly scratching at his scalp.
“You have to let me do that again,” he nearly begs, lower face and neck drenched in your juices.
“Sure.” You say without hesitation, fascinated with human creativity. His breath catches in his throat when your foot brushes against the wet, bulging shape of his cock through his pants. “What else can you show me?”
