Oh to have wings,,, I just want to grow wings and have to discover how this new part of my body works. I want to learn to preen my wings and take care of them. I slowly start to realize that I can’t reach the feathers at the base of my wings without hurting myself. Maybe there’s a tool I can use, but this is all so new to me and no one else knows anything about this either. So I get a friend I like being close to, who I feel like I can relax around. And I teach them on the part of my wing that I can reach, and then they preen my wings for me, their fingers going through the feathers. It feels so nice. They check in with me at first to make sure they don’t hurt me, but they get more confident as they go. It feels so good. I could fall asleep like this. This is how I find out I chirp when I’m really relaxed. We giggle about it together. It’s a little embarrassing to make sure involuntary noises, but I get over it quickly- it’s new and strange, and I can’t be blamed for it, it’s a natural part of this new change, and they’re so welcoming. They like making me chirp. I start to zone out as we get in the zone. I’m chirping, feeling so pleasant as they preen my wings. It feels so good when they preen the base of my wings, that part I couldn’t reach before. Their hand presses on my back, and I make an involuntary noise. I hadn’t realized that was an erogenous zone for me now. We’re both flustered. I want them to keep going and touch my back so bad, but they pull their hand back. I assure them that I’m alright and we return to the preening (Maybe next time I’ll tell them to keep going). It feels so nice, so pleasant. A little different from before, now. I zone out again as they preen my wings, chirping happily in my relaxation. They continue running their fingers through my feathers for a while after they finish preening, enjoying the feel of my feathers and me so relaxing and chirping under their fingers. I don’t even notice they’re done; I’m not doing much thinking right now. Once they finally pull their hands away and announce that they’ve finished, I pull them down into my nest, nuzzling into their arms as I wrap my wings around us both, chirping happily as I cuddle my friend.
I feel so powerful playing dumb, like I’m unaware of how I’m affecting people… Teasing people, laying my legs over them, reaching over them to get something…. Pushing them around in a conceivably jovial way… pretending I have no clue I can feel them getting hard, can see them get flustered. Like I don’t realise what I’m doing.
or when I walk the imperceptibly fine line, where you cant say whether im intentionally teasing you or not. It’s so plausibly deniable. Casting my line to see if you bite.
Say backstage, getting changed…. But…. ouuhh no… I’m so silly I can’t quite hook my bra together properly… oh no… I’ll just make sure to look concentrated and annoyed… like I’m really trying it’s just— stuck. I won’t say anything…. I can do it myself but-
“oh do you need help? Is it okay if I help you?? Is that alright?”
got you.
Oh yeah sure man, of course you can help me, why would that be weird? I didn’t say anything… you just saw your pal struggling…. The hooks are just caught and I can’t quite see them, would you— ah they’re okay? Thanks. And I continue getting dressed, without a change in tone, or anything to give away the game. They’re left wondering.
And then the fact that it was them who asked to help…. Who wanted to touch you… who was watching you change….. how cute. I can’t be blamed for any of this! It’s all on you! It’s not like I was doing it on purpose…..
Pairing: William Ironhead Miller x F!Reader (call sign: Magic)
Summary: A mission takes a turn for the worse… and then the better.
Rating: Explicit. All my works and blogs are 18+ regardless of rating. Minors do not interact. Blank/ageless blogs get immediate blocks.
Words: 9 K?!?!?!?!
Warnings: SWEARING, smut, dubious consent, noncon elements- sex pollen scenario, semi-public, hiding, tight spaces, claustrophobic sex, danger, guns, Canon typical violence and death, military scenario, blood, injury, military mission, reader is in the military and a member of the Delta team, angst, mentions of previous asshole encounter at a bar, discovering things about Will, voice kink, praise kink, mentions of pet names: sweetheart, bunny, good girl etc. brief mentions of hand kink, authority kink? (Will is Reader’s Captain), Fuck Tom, insecurity, imposter syndrome, Captain!Will, Capable!Will, OCD, mentions of major character death, mentions of previous IronFish, so Bi!Will, reader is described as smaller in stature to Will, shame, guilt, embarrassment, one sneaky Inception reference, aphrodisiac, smut, grinding, fingering, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, accidental stimulation, fear, established relationship, friends to lovers, major idiots to lovers, protective Will, switching povs, angsty fic but happy ending
A/N: a treat for you and me !!
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Thank you for reading!! Please engage if you enjoyed- likes, comments and reblogs mean ✨ e v e r y t h i n g ! ✨Thank you friend! ^_^ 💖💖💖
You moved in silence. Not quietly. No, you were trained to be better than that. Hugging the shadows- weaving through them like you were born of darkness, you navigated the narrow hallways of the ship with stealth and speed. Gaze trained down the sight, ears straining for any sound aside from the creak of metal as the ship swayed in the sea, you trace Ironhead’s footsteps. Inwardly cringing at the singular blood trail marking the only other sign he’d been this way. The bodies. Dark puddles are still pooling beneath them. Killed by blade as no gunfire had split the air yet. At least not down here. How the rest of the team fared above your heads- feet of solid metal between you that destroyed any hopes of consistent comms- would be seen on the other side of this hallway.
The one that Ironhead was trying to clear- whether he realized you were behind him when you were meant to be in front was also yet to be seen. By his take no prisoners tactics and the fact you were to rendezvous with him on the deck and that you hadn’t heard even a whisper of combat down here in his violent wake- it meant Will was moving with haste. Probably for what he thought was your sake.
Unfortunately your boarding of the ship hadn’t gone to plan. The fierce swell was shit luck in the first place.The beginning of a storm had forced the rest of the team to navigate the patrol boat to another position when you’d already climbed the ladder and cleared the railing. Their shouts to you were lost to the wind and waves. You were meant to have Ironhead directly behind you- he was supposed to be your cover while you gathered your bearings and decided the best path into the depths of the hull.
Left to your lonesome, a hostile found you while you were stripping off your wetsuit in a dark corner. By some small whisper of luck in your favor as the rain blanketed down in nearly opaque sheets, you’d noticed him before he had a chance to react. Incapacitating him before he could alert the others to your presence. Still, he’d managed a brutal fist to your mask in the scuffle before your knife found its mark. Shoving the blade past his tac vest while blood coated your teeth.
The comms had cracked the moment before you’d descended into the guts of the ship.
“Front to rear, disappear boys-Magic,” Benny’s voice drawling in your ear indicating the mission remained the same despite the change in course. The timeline was FUBAR’d but you’d trained enough to push forward alone.
“Got your six, Magic,” Ironhead affirms to you over the comms as though to answer your internal debate of whether to wait for some sign of him near the original meetup or to push on. There was no opportunity to inquire which side of the ship Will had boarded- whether and where the rendezvous point had changed as hostiles blanketed the deck. Clearly he was somewhere less infested with them if he dared to use his comms with his voice but his vantage point deemed the assurance necessary. Odds were high he could see you but you couldn’t him.
Based on the footsteps surrounding you- boots heavy on metal above and approaching from ahead on the deck- you couldn’t linger anywhere up here for long without being discovered. All you could do was spare a few seconds to click your comms button in acknowledgement. Not daring to use your voice should you give your position away.
Three taps then you pushed forwards. The hatch into the ship was darker than the moonless night that kept your presence here a secret. Some anxiety clawed through you while your night vision goggles adjusted to the darkness when the ship’s depths swallowed you. Closing the hatch behind you- you inwardly cursed- realizing the first hostile’s contact with your face had compromised not only your ability to breathe through your nose but also the function of your mask. The goggles were glitching. Shoving them up your head- you were forced to wait a moment longer for your natural vision to adjust.
Fuck, maybe you should have waited for Will instead of slinking around essentially blind. It wasn’t unsurprising this ship operated with red lights only. Trying to escape the neighboring country's awareness of its unwanted presence in their waters. But it made it a bitch of a time for you to navigate towards the goal set for you. Reach the research lab at the heart of the hull and gather whatever intel it contained.
The good news was no alarms sounded as you moved. The team up above would extract you if needed however security measures seemed scarce below deck compared to what Pope, Benny and Fish were dealing with. Recalling the blueprints of the ship’s layout- you locate the next set of stairs that will take you deeper into the belly of the steel beast. Still wishing you had Ironhead with you. A weapon of a man that would be the quick blade finding its way between plated armor with his sharp honed senses and skills. Will would locate the lab like he’d built the ship himself. Would pass silently through these walls like a ghost. Only realizing your partner was not a spirit haunting your steps- but leading them when you find the first prone hostile at the bottom of the stairs.
Blood stains the ground, fills the mask covering the hostile’s face. Will’s work was never pretty and always efficient.
The first promising hatch appears after a disappointing set of storage rooms and utility closets. The entrance to a lab- a room fit for changing into research uniforms. Lab coats, lockers, sign in and out sheets. Entering swiftly, you sweep the space corner to corner before moving towards the door on the other side.
This has to be the lab.
There’s a creak of metal unlike all the rest of the heaving ship. Sharper. Closer before a flurry of movement explodes behind you.
Your mask is ripped off the top of your head and your head is yanked back with it. A wise opponent uses the shifting gravity of the ship to their advantage- pulling you with the sway of the swell so that your ability to correct is now at a massive loss. Gravity takes over your ability to aim your weapon before it's knocked out of your grip. The possibility to react in any shape or form is reduced to a burst of surprise and panic. Your fingers reach for your knife- slick with blood from the first hostile- you get a hold but the slippery sense of a battle about to be lost before it had hardly begun slithers into your awareness. Some untrained part of you fills with agony. Fuck, you were better than this. Shame and guilt competes for your focus- the one you’d drilled into seeking and achieving your survival. Before you can get a sense of bearing- strong arms lock around yours.
“S’me, Magic,” Ironhead growls into your head- keeping his own tight to yours so you can’t bash him with it out of trained reaction. The very one he’s coached into you when you performed drills of this kind of attack on your six. Ironhead knows well enough your next fallback move. Sidesteps your boot before it can land on his own while your brain catches up with his words. Adrenaline breaking through to register him as friendly while he locks down your blade with his iron grip.
“Fuck, Ironhead,” you hiss when Will releases you as soon as your voice leaks out recognition and disregard in equal measure. If the sea you operated in now was made of swear words you could empty it now through your mouth in just a few seconds. And perhaps vacate your gut too as it revolts to realize you could have just compromised not only the mission- but Will’s life.
That cold, blue gaze is serious while he evaluates your destroyed mask in his gloved hands. How he manages to already disengage from the thought of you shooting or stabbing him while your body jolts with the action he’d dismantled you from in less than an instant must be the reason he’s Captain.
Compartmentalize. Separating action from emotion.
You could have shot him.
Beaned your fucking Captain.
Slid a blade beneath his ribs and then had to explain why to his fucking brother.
Benny would have killed you. If you all would have even survived.
And Will seems to have tracked all of this and yet gives away nothing. Not a crumb of feeling found in his eyes for your own to feed on. Not a flicker of consideration as to where you both could have ended up. The blue of his gaze darker than the sea you just ascended from.
Embarrassment that you hadn’t initially seen him in your scope out of the room, that you hadn’t reacted in time to his attack- surges through your frame in replacement of the shock of his ambush. Unsure if you wanted his blood spilled more than you wanted your unease to disappear if only to save you the lecture. Ironhead preoccupies himself with your broken gear while you bend and collect your rifle, trying to focus on something else than the mixture of energy in your frame.
There’d be time to discuss it later. Of course you knew he’d bring it up eventually. At least he wouldn’t be a dick about it like Redfly.
We’re learning for next time so we don’t make the same mistakes.The ones which could have landed you both dead.
Will always operated from a team perspective where Tom always put you on the spot. “You’ll get everyone killed! Use your fucking head next time if we’ll be so fucking lucky.”
Ironhead lets you have a moment longer of introspection, apparently unconcerned with being discovered as he examines your smashed mask. It was odd now that you thought about it. The absence of security. A nagging sense that something wasn’t right about any of this creeps into your awareness.
The mission must go on despite your reservations about your usefulness to it. You were here despite that poor performance and may well be less of a burden to Ironhead and his team.
Examining the room, you note an empty locker.The sound from earlier echoes in your mind. The scrape of metal when Will had made himself known to your awareness. Familiar with the sharp screech of it. How many times had you heard it in the wake of Benny’s fights when you all crowded into the locker room to patch him up?
“Is this where you were fucking hiding?” you ask, unable to disguise the laughter as you marvel at the size of the metal container. It was only a little bit larger than the lockers you were used to in the community center gym and the military base. How Will managed to cram himself inside of it- and exit it with speed as he’d done when he’d attacked you- was a mystery.
Turning to Will- who even amidst the red light and shadows- fills the space like he refuses to let one atom of himself disappear. The broadness of him is accentuated further by the amount of gear he dons. The swivel of his shoulders reminds you of how Benny commands himself in the cage. Like he owns every inch of his being. Can provoke every firm muscle of his impressive frame to action. You’ve trained with the older Miller often enough to know the violence he possesses. Restrains. The strength of him held back- only unleashed for the sake of his profession.
You can’t help but wonder what Will would be like if his mission were of a different sort- a sexier one.The wide expanse of Will’s chest beneath his tac vest, his towering height all held against you just moments ago is suddenly a sense memory you can’t ignore. Heat pulses through you.
What the fuck is going on? No, no, no, *not* the fucking time- you try to tamp down the thoughts that cause heat to bloom in your belly and between your thighs.
“Worked in a pinch,” Will replies- a slight curve to his lips when he looks at you-his smirk blotting out your thoughts. You’d have to pinch yourself for this dreamy consideration of him. You’re almost tempted when your eyes meet for a heartbeat too long. An ache thrumming through you that has nothing to do with the way he just manhandled you into not debilitating him and yet everything to do with his hands on you.
Although Will’s gaze grazes your mouth for a moment- his eyes flick away and evaluates the swelling across your nose. It must be quite bad, you think, because his brow furrows and his jaw ticks over.
“I thought you were here already,” Will says, unable to hide the worry in his tone. He hadn’t heard your comm contact. The taps lost to the torrential rain as he searched the vacant rendezvous point. His heart slamming in his mouth the entire way here because he thought you’d been captured. Teeth gritting over his fear. Swallowing panic and sliding blade into skin with an efficiency he thought he’d lost in recent years with his age. But you’d appeared. Like Magic, he thinks, smiling to himself despite the serious place his mind had just visited.
As though sensing his dark considerations, you attempt to brighten the mood while searching for anything useful in the lockers. Most of them are empty.
“I make it a habit to appear at critical moments,” you say, self deprecation always got you a small smile from the Captain. Perhaps it reminded him of Benny’s humor. Either way it was effective at sliding past Will’s iron defenses.
“Like a bunny,” Will says and you lift a brow as he runs a hand down his face. Sweat beads upon his brow- the bowels of the ship are warm and the fear that had driven his form down these halls with murderous intent had brought its own heat. If you weren’t suffering from the same adrenaline rush in this tin can you’d think he looked feverish.
“Out of a hat,” Will adds, miming a magician pulling a rabbit from a top hat. It’d become an integral team signal as part of your call sign due to your ability to emerge in tight spots of combat as victor. Something they all likened to magic, the superstitious lot that they were.
Benny called you his good luck charm for his fights. He’d only started winning consistently when you joined the team- which you thought was linked to his training becoming condensed. Will as his coach had to be shared with you now- ever since Will decided your combat skills would be brought up to his standards.
When you weren’t on contract work, watching Benny fight or practicing tactical drills- you trained with Will. Recalling being with him in the cage produced a new wave of heat in your body. A burn in you that longed for the fuel he provided. Those golden smiles, gifted to you when you got a skill down. His gritted off, near breathless “Good girl,” offered after he taps out on the mat. Doling praise with what you believed was no thought to the way your brain short circuited at the words- but Will was nothing if not observant. Your body stilling beneath his- breath hitching beneath his hands before you flustered through a half assed response.
Ironhead shuffles where he stands and you inwardly slap yourself for staring at him. For fuck’s sake, he was your Captain- you’d be right to remember that important fact especially up to your throats in a mission. Shifting back to the task at hand instead of gathering around the proverbial water cooler- fuck- you could use a cold shower right now- clear the sweat pricking at your spine where it meets your tac vest. Wash away the thoughts of Will and what he’d look like if he kept it on while he–
Will interrupts the path of your ruined mind.
“You came down the port side stairwell?” Will asks, the words strained through his teeth, fingers clenched around your mask so that the leather of his glove squeaks. You notice his own mask is missing. The claw mark across his cheek means someone else had removed it for him. Forcefully.
You nod and Will sighs heavily, shoulders descending a fraction before he shuffles whatever is weighing down his regard and straightens his spine.
“Alright, well-let’s get moving,” Will says, discarding your mask and gesturing with his rifle to the door of the lab. Positioning yourself parallel to it, you wait for Will to follow suit- noting his breathing is ragged where he hovers behind you.
The blood trail from the hallway- connecting all his kills from the first- dots your thoughts with its dark sheen. Staining your attention- How could you have forgotten to check if he was okay?
Before Will can command you to breach you turn to him.
Why he doesn’t immediately chew you out for ignoring the tactical advance but instead you find his blue gaze roving your face- and you know it isn’t to examine the swelling because his eyes linger on your lips.
“You okay?” you query and Will seems to emerge from a fog, blinking away his break in focus to nod.
“M’fine,” he grits out, chin tipping to the door beyond you and the thick cords of his neck are revealed behind the fabric of his buff. The lift of his sharp jaw reveals that distracting stretch of tensing muscles that jerk and twist with his silent order. Throat bobbing when he swallows thickly like the air had turned to paste between you. Blue gaze implores you, something pained behind it.
Get moving.
The only place you want to move is towards him. To shove your bruised face into the crook of his neck where a firm shoulder meets his tactical vest and then skin. Sheening with sweat and sea water. Will leans towards you- just a fraction- as though drawn in by your unspoken musings. The scent of him- of salt and gun smoke and iron- collides with the goal of the mission.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.
What. The. Fuck.
While you weren’t as experienced as Will- as the rest of the team- you were always professional. Constantly aimed to uphold the honor of your oaths and respect the authority of your Captain.
But something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Sure- you had a lot of thoughts about Will before this moment. But you’d trained very hard to be proficient at your work- and to maintain boundaries amidst your team. If you entertained more intimate thoughts about Will on your time off- in your bunk and dreams- that was your own business. You’d managed to work alongside him for six months without trespassing into less professional territory. Sure there were long looks when you thought the other wasn’t looking. Maybe you stared at his hands while he cleaned his gear. Maybe he stared at your ass when you ran the ten training miles every morning. Maybe you enjoyed doing combat drills with him- or when he showed you some of Benny’s signature cage moves at the gym. Maybe you enjoyed Will’s blue eyes upon you more than you would admit. His firm hands on your thighs and arms when he pulled and pushed you into a submissive hold- always gentle- afraid to inflict harm when all he wanted was to make you laugh beneath him. Maybe you enjoyed when he used his Captain voice for trivial things- and not in the asshole way that Tom used his.
Will was kind, aware of his authority- and never made you feel less than.
And that’s how you wanted to keep things.
But something was happening between the two of you.
And it got worse when you breached the lab.
It was darker than the hallways when you entered. Flicking your moonbeam on- it casts more light on your situation but not as much as for Will when he follows. In a heartbeat Ironhead clears the corner and maneuvers towards a laptop on one of the stations.
Yanking his glove off, his fingers clatter over the keys while his gaze cements itself on the screen like it owes him something. Taking up a post and hovering by the next exit- you try to look out for hostiles while Will gathers intel.
Ironhead’s sharp curse comes before an alarm blares. The room flashes between blinding white and ominous red while a siren wails in what feels like your brain with how loud it wanes and lifts. Gunfire erupts somewhere far away. Footsteps clang overhead. Will grips your arm, hauling you back to the locker room.
Figuring his plan was to work your way back the way you’d come in- you make for the hallway but Will’s grip tightens, forcing you to turn to him.
“What’s wrong?” you ask, searching his frame for signs of injury. Finally you notice the stain over his thigh- dark with blood- no weapon or shrapnel remaining but a nasty gash along the outer side of his leg.
Will’s face contorts in pain- head swivels back to the lab and the data stick in his grip. His hands tremble- fisted knuckles white.
“We need to go,” you urged him on, he hadn’t even limped earlier- the wound couldn’t be that bad yet and you’d seen him lose more blood than this on previous missions. Footsteps thunder down the wall- an echo of angry thuds against metal. The echo of them hollows out and meets itself as they make their way closer. The other hallway would sound the same in a few mikes. It was time to get the fuck out.
“Can’t,” Will growls through a tight, near constant shake of his head- his gaze torn away from the oncoming hostiles and while his word didn’t sound like defeat- his voice held a quality you’d heard only one time before when icy blue eyes landed on you.
The night at the bar just off base. When a fellow recruit had tried to feel you up despite you turning him down. Freshly a part of the team- you were used to fighting your own battles and were about to give the stupid asshole an earful and likely fistful of your wrath. Hadn’t expected Will to snap upright from his seat at the bar and cement the handsy idiot in his sights the second the fool’s hand grazed your thigh.
Certainly hadn’t expected the bit off, “Excuse me, sweetheart,” directed towards you before Will’s fist snapped out and connected with the guy’s teeth. Will had moved like lightning. Used all the space provided in the crowded bar- mindful to keep himself between you and the unfortunate target in his hands. The man’s head was guided forcely against the edge of the bar and then the stool Will had sat on- enough for the smacks to draw pained grunts and a group of onlookers. Not enough damage though. Not to Will’s standards as he shoved the man’s throat into the crook of his elbow- the offending hand of the creep now twisted at a brutal angle behind his back. A series of pop’s as bones crushed beneath Will’s grip joined a distressed squealing- conveniently covering up whatever dangerous words Will hissed into the man’s ear before he was released. Ran off to the parking lot never to show his face in front of you again.
There’d been a protectiveness that had shook through Will’s polite words to you before the violence.Vibrated through you now at his growled “Can’t” but confusion bled in just as well.
“It’s time to disappear, bunny,” Will says with a tight shrug of his shoulders before he holsters his rifle and shoves you against the lockers.
“What the fuck-” you wanted to ask what he meant, but Will crowds against you. Twisting you around and pressing you further into the locker before cramming himself in after. Will tugs the door closed with a sharp squeak just as the horde of footsteps reaches the hatch to the changing room.
In the last few seconds available, Will wraps an arm around your waist and props you upon one of his legs, forcing you to sit higher into the locker as he wedges himself at the door he holds closed. Afraid you’ll both topple out if he doesn’t make adjustments. Your back is to his chest- your chest to the wall of the metal box. Will’s arm is like a cage around your middle- anchoring you to him and while usually you’d be panicking over the small space- something about Will’s touch keeps you grounded. It helps that he's chosen the emptiest locker. There’s more room to breathe than you expected in the tight conditions.
But the group at the door makes you both hold your breath as their breach is called out. You try to turn your head to get your sight on the only exit but Will’s voice husks out against your head where his is thrust against it.
“Don’t move,” Will commands. It’s an order. He uses his Captain voice but it lands on your personal radar given the low, gritted off quality of it. Your very personal radar as his knee lifts a little higher while he tries to grab his weapon. Wedging his thick thigh between yours. Placing pressure on your core in a way that you didn’t dare admit when his head was smashed against yours so hard you were sure he could hear your thoughts.
Both you and Will stood paralyzed. Breaths held against your potential discovery. The knowing that neither of you had a weapon in position to aim let alone shoot pressing on your minds. But one of Will’s guns was pressing against you. A hard bulge against your ass.
Once most of the horde of hostiles dispersed and it was almost silent in the locker room and adjoining lab for a few mikes- you dared to wiggle into a more comfortable position. Will’s thigh that was pressed between yours became your leverage and you hoped it wasn’t the injured one when your legs tightened around it.
Will groaned behind you at the action. A low sound that rumbled from his chest and into yours even through the tac vests. It didn’t sound painful but you tried to give him as much space as the crammed box allowed. Which was essentially nothing. Less than nothing even. You were stuck in the locker- “nut to butt'' as it were. Will’s hulking form curled around yours as he attempted to use most of his size as a shield should anyone think to check the lockers. The hostiles outside the thin piece of steel shout curt orders. Will stares them down as they sweep the space again.
A masked guard stalks the line of lockers you hide in. Will’s body tenses against yours every time the man moves closer. All his firm muscle held against you poised to burst forth and inflict harm if necessary. Fearing the worst- what if one of you got stuck in the process of exiting the locker- or collapsed out of it- the hand not grasping Will’s arm around your waist reaches backwards to brace against Will.
You're searching for him- not tac vest or weapon or comms- you need Will. To steady him and yourself. First, your fingers find dense fabric and foam- the edges of his tac vest so you aim lower. The cool metal of his magazine clip meets your hand next. Carefully, quietly you venture further. Needing to feel his skin against yours for no good reason other than if you were about to be shot to bits in a metal box- you wanted Will to know you cared. And if you couldn’t use your words- you could use touch.
Finally you feel the heat of him- the skin across his hip against your fingers brings some small measure of relief. But there were some mysteries about the Miller man that you’d yet to discover.
Will was ticklish.
At your glancing touch his hips stutter against you in surprise. Will’s breath bursts against your ear in a bitten off chuckle- nearly drawing blood from his lip to prevent himself from the involuntary reaction. There’s a hitch of his breath and a hiss to reflect it.
The prowling guard stalks the other side of the room now. Will dares to speak. Barely giving voice to his words with the proximity of you.
“What are you doing?” Will asks and you can’t help the shiver at the way his voice has dropped even though he barely puts sound to it.
Your fingers touch him more firmly- wrapping around the curve of his hip as though to press him more properly to where he was rooted against your own hips.If you were going to die like a sardine in a can- you may as well get to know your neighbor a little bit better. Squeezing what you can hold- you hoped some small feeling might transfer to Will. Some sense of care and appreciation that he was here with you. Maybe imminent death was making you so bold, you didn’t really know what had overcome you. Feeling up your Captain before being punctured by lead wasn’t exactly on your bucket list but the feel of Will being so close was like a drug. And your fingertips on his bare skin felt like a breath of fresh air.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” Will asks when your fingers find his tac belt. Curiously, the gun you thought was against your ass was holstered at his side. What you supposed had shifted in Will’s attempts to squeeze you both inside this box with haste had stayed in place the entire time. Which meant that wasn’t a hard weapon against your ass. It was Will.
Fuck, you couldn’t blame him- your thighs squeezing over his to get some relief from your precarious thoughts. A tightness and swirling in your belly and lower- that familiar tugging of need growing. It made sense being so close. Will was attractive and based on the looks you’d caught him taking when he thought you weren’t paying attention- you were too. At least to his liking and now you were pressed against him in a less than professional position and you both were reacting in accordance. Something about this discovery and your preoccupation with it should have set off alarm bells. Any other day it would have. But instead it spurred you. A compulsion to feel more of Will drives your hand further behind your back, closer to where you’re flush against him.
Your fingers leave his hip and find the coarse hair of his happy trail. Will’s stomach flexes beneath your touch as though to meet them. His breathing rasps out behind you- his body jerking against yours like he’s sensitive. God, you could make him feel so good- take him right along the path of pleasure if he’d only allow it. Let down that guarded persona of his that never lets him get close to anyone. The only person you’d ever truly seen him let down his defenses for was Benny but you supposed he never built any up for his brother anyways.
“Fuck-” Will curses behind you and you can’t help the way your thighs tighten, drawing another curse from the back of his throat. The hand at your waist hauls you further into him while his hips lift to meet your aching core.
Will’s breath bursts against your neck as he presses his head against yours.
“You need to stop before I fucking come in my pants,” Will husks, but he’s left the order out of his words. The way his fingers dig into you indicates he wishes for the opposite.
“What the fuck is wrong with us,” you say and Will’s hand snakes up your tac vest to cover your mouth, his chest forcing you further into the wall while he stills both your movements with his weight. It further proves to you that if he’d truly wanted to he could have put an end to your attentions.
The guard’s footsteps approach but fade until they disappear completely along with the rest.
Will’s fingers gingerly lift from your face, careful to avoid your swollen nose before he speaks- voice catching on grit.
“Neurotoxin,” Will says and your blood chills but not for nearly as long as it should when his hand cements itself against your side once more, pulling you into him while he inhales your scent. Face pressed against your crown- Will allows himself to enjoy one last moment of closeness before he plans to haul you out of the locker and off this fucking hellship.
“Which one?” you ask, your voice wavering with fear so that Will surfaces from his need to hold you close for a moment to grasp your fear instead. He would take it from you- that shiver of anxiety he feels against him- he’d turn it into something good. Make you feel nothing but good. With his hands, his mouth, his cock…have you trembling against him in pleasure.
“Aphrodisiac,” Will replies bluntly, “Don’t know exactly the one but it feels like when we ran into it during the Cobol mission.”
You hadn’t joined the team at that point. It was a job they didn’t discuss- but that was the same for a lot of their missions. The after effects were still being felt in the shifting dynamics of their relationships. There was a closeness about them all that seemed accentuated.
The only good news about this was that Will was alive. They’d survived that job and now he was pressed up against you in a way that felt too good to be true. So maybe this toxin wouldn’t kill you. But the thought of exiting the locker and separating yourself from him felt like it would be worse than death.
Maybe you could convince Will to stay a while longer…
Divert his attention- just enough so you can truly grab hold of it.
“What are they doing out there?” you ask because Will blocks your vision. Ever vigilant gaze never left the slats that allow him to observe the going ons beyond the feel of you against him. The guards have dispersed. There’s one or two posted outside the changing room but he could take care of them in a heartbeat.
The danger had passed.
“We should pop smoke,” Will admits, but you pop the button on his tac pants instead. Will tries to remember how to breathe when your fingers fumble with the zipper.
If he was in his right mind he’d be squeezing his way out of the locker and kicking ass. But mind clouded with the toxin- all he can focus on is the feel of your ass against him. The sweet, agonizing pressure as you mindlessly grind against his thigh. Over and over and over. He doesn’t even care about the stab wound on his other one. Doesn’t feel any pain when you’re attached to him like this.
“Will it kill us?” you ask, fingers scraping over his tac belt like you’re stalling and he resists the urge to push your hand lower.
“No,” Will’s quick to answer, to reassure, and your hand stills at the word before you draw it away- like you’ve interpreted it as his refusal. Will almost chokes at the loss of your touch, “It’s meant to temporarily destabilize. Non-lethal tactic There’s ways to stop its effects.” Will manages to grit out most of that with some composure- but then you shove yourself back on him harder- further. Restraint clambers against the intense urge to take care of you and not in a professional way.
“Like Magic?” you joke, the insinuation clear in your phrasing. Your relieved laughter strikes him in his chest. You were probably scared, he inwardly chides himself for not trying to communicate the situation sooner. He thinks it was the first mark in the post side staircase. The hostile had ripped his mask off before stabbing him. Will had felt the effects begin shortly after that as he traversed the ship. Fever, distraction, an aching need in his groin all centered on you when you appeared. The blood loss wasn’t helping but it certainly hadn’t hindered the stiffness of his cock where it nestled against you.
Guilt storms through Will. Floods his senses but less than if he’d been sober. He was your Captain- he was supposed to take care of you. Make you feel supported and safe- and instead he was acting like a horny teenager- rutting against you when he should be offering words of solace- safety-
“Toxin only activates if there’s a seed- a pre-existing attraction-” Will says, although he isn’t sure if he’s making the situation better or worse by admitting his feelings towards you. He was your Captain for fucks sake. And now the reason you found yourself nearly out of your mind trying to seek pleasure against his thigh.
“Fuck, m’sorry,” Will grunts out, hips arching against you to find some sort of reprieve from the loss of your hands exploring touch.
“S’okay,” you slur, the bulge of him pressing against your core in a way that reduces all your thoughts to wondering how well you could take him. How much he could stretch you over his cock-
“M’sorry,” Will repeats three more times- a stress induced tic of his OCD presenting itself alongside the need to remove all the fabric between the two of you. You were so close- just a few layers away and he could sink himself inside of you.
“S’not your fault, Will,” you return- wondering why he blames himself for becoming susceptive to a weapon of war when it was your attraction that had rooted the issue in the first place. Your hands had returned to grasping his- the one he wrapped around you to haul you into him further. Afraid to continue your exploring for fear this was only a product of brain chemicals gone awry- that Will didn’t truly want to see this to its natural end as much as you did. There was nothing for him to apologize for- if anything it was you that should.
“Fuck-,” Will curses when you brace your hands against the locker wall to push back against him even more, unable to resist rubbing on him when his hands reach further down- gloved fingers wrapping around your thighs. The shake in his arms betrays his need- all of his frame surrounding you surging with desire.
“Please, Will,” you had every intention of apologizing- of accepting your role in this chemical undoing of sorts- of relieving Will of his guilt for leading you here when he had no way of anticipating this threat. Instead this begging is what your mouth forms- the words you’d bitten back for what feels like ages when Will’s hand slides between your thighs. Offering pressure that makes you want to burst with his sure application.
“Please, what, sweetheart,” Will asks, anguished when your fingers find his bulge and presses back, “Please- fu-ck-ing what,” Will’s words stutter as your hand wraps around him.
“Tell me to stop, sweetheart” he grits out as he ruts against you harder, seeking friction as your fingers slide inside his tac pants while his fingers rub between your legs like his next lungful of air needs to be full of you. Stained by the way you gasp and moan and tremble for him. His name mixed into your pleas so sweetly that he almost misses that you’re referring to him informally. Not Captain, not Ironhead. Will.God, the way your lips wrap around his name is better than he could have ever imagined.
“Tell me to stop.” Will begs the order, hard voice turning over the words into seriousness when he continues, “I never imagined it being like this,” Will stutters out, his words regretful even as he surges to meet your closing fist around his achingly hard cock. The fabric around him is damp with precum. The ability to close your hand hindered by the awkward angle that you attempt to hold him by and the thickness of him. Fuck, you didn’t want to stop- you wanted to keep going forever.
“Want you,” so fucking badly, Will agonizes, “Think of you like this all the fucking time,” Will breathes into your crown, the heat of him around you- the delving of his fingers against your tac belt a torture. The sincerity of his words ricochets around your mind, finding the parts of you that you tried to shield and shattering them.
Will had imagined this too? You weren’t alone in your daydreaming and longing?
Will’s hand stills between your legs- his mind clambering over his restraint- still addled by the drugs. He held his breath for a little more clarity- all the hostiles were wearing masks to avoid the effects.
“Tell me what you want,” he breathes out, head lolling back to slam against the locker when you squirm against him- caught between seeking the hardness in his pants and the pleasure his hand had been a moment ago- whining at the loss of his attention..
God, he needed to get you both out of here and off this fucking ship.
But how the hell was he supposed to do that when he was quite sure you’d collapse the moment he ripped himself away from you? If he was honest, he thinks he’d fall from the separation too. Useless as an empty mag. Cobol had left him feeling like an open wound. Tearing himself away from Fish felt less like picking at the scab of their feelings and more like turning himself into one giant, raw nerve. Fighting their way out of that clusterfuck while under the influence of the drug had been a mistake- it's a miracle they all made it out alive.
Will didn’t want to risk your life like that. So he’d risk your friendship instead. He could take care of you- get you through this mission and if things were awkward after- then so be it. At least you’d be alive to hate him. He’d given plenty of orders as Captain that his team didn’t like- what was one more. Dread fills him even as the path becomes clear. What was one more order if it saved lives? What if it was yours?
“Tell me,” Will orders and you keen at the command in his voice.
“Please, Will,” you beg once more and he can’t help the jerk of his hips at the eager sound you make whenever his thrusts force you further into his hand.
“Use your words,” he orders although he isn’t sure how long he’ll be capable of using his.
“Wanna feel full, please” you slur, hips grinding your ass one long pass of his cock that threatens what he thinks may be the limits of his sanity. You’re so far lost in the toxin that you don’t care how loud you’re being. Whines and gasps bursting from you in equal measure and Will wants to hoard them. Carve them into his memory to pull forth on lonely, long jobs when you won’t be there. Because you’ll be safe. Far away from places like this and people with their weird bioweapons.
Will lifts one hand up to your face- covers your mouth- careful to avoid pressure over your swollen sinuses. Muffles the sharp gasp you make when his fingers slide beneath your tac pants and between your folds. Finding your entrance, Will thrusts two fingers inside you.
It’s heaven. Bliss. Will’s hand working you towards an orgasm that slams through you faster than you’d have thought possible. Will works you through it like he loads a weapon. Efficient, thorough, maintains the same sensible pressure and pattern of movement that lets him hit his mark until he brings you upon another one. Forces you over the edge with calculated ease. Like he’s known your body for a lifetime. Your release pulses through you.
It’s so close to the first it feels like the same. Walls closing around him, your slick dripping down his hand and your body tensing and relaxing against his in waves until he’s brought you to so many that you lose count. Will keeps track. Noting how they blend and stutter through each other until he’s flooded you with so much oxytocin that the drugs don’t have the same effect as before.
Slumping in his arms, held up by his strength and your shaking thighs over his- you realize he’d only used his hand. Found a spot you’d never managed on your own with it too.
“Fucking hell, Ironhead,” you say, realizing with fierce guilt that you’d been using his real name instead of his call sign when under the influence. Will huffs a breath laugh, leaning heavily at your back before he carefully removes his hands from you. Even without the effects of the drugs you note it still feels like loss.
Before he can retreat entirely- escape in true Miller fashion- how many times had he left a Morales houseparty or barbeque without even a goodbye- you press your ass backwards into his lap in an attempt to return the favor he’d bestowed upon you. Will chokes through another laugh- one hand stroking your side in some measure of reassurance.
“Don’t worry, bunny,” Will murmurs, “You’re magic made my problem disappear too.” he says and a rush of heat surges through you alongside a sense of disappointment that you’d missed his release whilst caught in the thralls of your own. Retracting your hands- you sort out your clothes before Will leans against the door- pausing to regard you for a moment.
“Magic?” Will says, and you meet his gaze, “Nothing has to change if you don't want it to,” Will says and something in your heart cracks and bursts for how considerate he’s being.
“We can forget this ever happened-” Will continues and you can’t see his features fully in the shadows but something in his face still flashes with pain when he speaks.Enough that you begin to doubt he found his relief- maybe he’d only lied to get you both moving on to extraction. Maybe he only did what needed to be done so he could finish the mission- maybe it was just another example of your lack of skill and experience compared to him.
Imposter syndrome claws its way past your post release haze. What if Will would never want to work alongside you again? With a strained smile you gesture at the exit as best you can in the tight quarters.
“Take the lead, Captain,” you say, trying to maintain your typical sass, but voice catching in your throat. If there was one thing about Will- he respected a hard out so when he doesn’t move to exit- you use the only ammunition you have left.
Good ol’ fashioned self deprecation.
“This is where the Magic happens, what a SNAFU, huh?” you warble out the pathetic joke but Will flinches.
Situation normal, all fucked up.
Usually he’d laugh at your quip- but you can’t even look him in the eye. Leaning on the door he collapses out of the space- taking up position at the hallway exit while you clamber out of the locker. Scouting for hostiles, Will debates how much he’s fucked up.
The only comfort of it all was at least you had a clear head to live and have regrets. If he had to live with this- he would. Another count on his list- a body count he didn’t want in this way.
The comm cracks.
“Ironhead, Magic, status report,” Fish’s words are laden with worry.
“Data’s secured, Magic is with me. It was a clusterfuck, Fish,” Will heaves out, not realizing the irony of the last word until your burst of laughter bounces off his back.
“Roger, Ironhead. Rendezvous on twelve is clear,” Fish replies, his voice lighter than the first contact. Will leads the way through the hull, up to the deck to the railing where Fish waits. The grim look on both your faces forces Fish to restrain his curiosity but once you’ve descended the ladder, he dares to throw Will a pensive look.Shaking his head in reply, Fish sighs.
And that’s how it was between you for a while. Things were weird. Santi and Benny didn’t know what to make of the shift. Fish seemed to garner a sense of exactly what sort of shit you came up against in the guts of the ship. At the end of a training set, breathless and on the edge of sleep deprivation- Will tells you about Cobol. Suddenly, his closeness to Fish made sense. Your worry deepened that what you had done had overstepped even more boundaries than you were originally aware but Will reassured you away from it. Something in the tone of his voice suggested he and Fish had drifted away from each other. Perhaps Will’s reaching Captain, his OCD, Fish’s addiction and then family… whatever it had been had been done and dusted long before your arrival.
What had transpired between you and Will was well from over. Although the doctors reassured you the toxin had long been eliminated from your systems- sparks of it seemed to burst between you. Heat flushing your being at his closeness. Within his gaze- a respect that never faltered. It was overwhelming although you tried to keep up appearances of being unaffected.
If Will wanted to tow the status quo then you would too… even if it hurt. Even if you think he wanted more too.
A few months later- in the bar off base- well beyond any potential lingering effects of the toxin- you sip a coke while trying to keep your attention on the TV that’s playing Benny’s fight. Pretending you didn’t search for his cornerman in the shadows beyond the fencing until the fighters pause for a break and you realize it wasn’t Will like you expected- but Fish.
The stool beside you scrapes across the floor before Will settles beside you.
“Pretty terrible hiding spot if you’re trying to avoid me,” Will says and the bubbles of your soda strike your nose so that you cough. Will takes the opportunity to drag your stool closer to his- until you’re nestled between the wide splay of his thighs.
“I’m not avoiding you,” you retort with a smile- and Will returns it, that lopsided grin causing a different bubbling inside you. Relief and heat bursting as they collided because you had been avoiding him. Afraid that although he treated you exactly as before the mission- that something would be fundamentally altered between you. But here he was- still Will, and you were still you.
“I was waiting for a critical moment,” you explain and Will nods.
“A good place to appear,” you continue, leaning closer to the golden haired man, “You know the kind. Dark, cramped, difficult to get out of.”
“I think I know a place,” Will says, thumbs lifting from the edge of the stool to rub circles on your thighs- lips playing over a smile he attempts to contain.
“You do?” you query, playfully and Will’s face splits on a wide grin.
“It’s good in a pinch,” he says with a casual shrug of his henley covered shoulders. He hadn’t looked away from you once- not even to see if Benny was winning. His hand squeezes your thigh as though to imbue meaning on his next words.
“You know I got your six, right?” Will asks, the smile gone, replaced with that seriousness which strikes in your chest.
You nod in response, unable to put words to the reply when your throat is thick with emotion.
“Good girl.” Will says with a wink, a gleam in his eyes before that lazy smirk appears once more.
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Thank you for reading!! Please engage if you enjoyed- likes, comments and reblogs mean ✨ e v e r y t h i n g ! ✨Thank you friend! ^_^ 💖💖💖
A/N: This man has a talent for teasing all of us, so I thought why not turn the tables on him a little?
Santiago wants to scream as you brush past him again in the kitchen as you are preparing for the Miller family barbeque. Why on Earth did he suggest his tiny little cupboard of a kitchen for this? He grumbles in his mind.
It’s the fifth time today that you’ve had to squeeze by him to pick up something and every time you do, he can feel your body against his, the delicious pressure almost too much.
It’s not as bad the first times when it was just a brief touch of your body against his, but this time he can clearly feel the outline of your breasts, your beautiful and perfect breasts, push against his back. The urge to flip around and push you against the counter and grind his hardness against you is slowly driving him mad.
But the worst part? You don’t even know what you are doing to him, all the ways you are making him go crazy, all the things that make him feel like a teenager again. He’s constantly horny when he’s around you but the physical aspect is getting to him and his hand can only provide so much relief.
“Can you pass me the limes, please? I think this needs a little more acidity,” you ask, holding out our hand without looking and the bare skin on the inside of your wrist is calling Santi, please bite down, and is he going fully cray-cray here?
He sighs and places two round limes into your hand and wills himself to calm down. He’s a grown man, he can handle some accidental stimulation. It’s not like you’re interested in him anyway, you are just friends, Santi reminds himself sternly and focuses back on the slicing.
“Fuck!” He rips his head up when you curse loudly and start to jump around, ripping your t-shirt off in the process. He can only watch, trying to will his erection down as he sees your lacy set, mesh crisscrossing your chest, and the nipples the clothing is definitely not hiding.
They look perfect, how they stand out a little and Santi is near the end of his rope as you continue to move, placing your shirt under the spray of cold water. Some of it splashes to your skin and he can see your nipples tighten more as the bra sticks to your skin.
Oh to be able to bend down, pick one of those perky nipples into his mouth and suck, suck, suck you into a pliant puddle for him. He’ll help you sit on the counter then and he can drop down, suck on something else that is just waiting for him to taste you, and drink you down until…
“Santi? Santi!” Your voice cuts through him and Santi has the decency to look sheepish at getting caught staring and daydreaming. But… you don’t look offended by his hungry gaze as you stand in front of him, not hiding anything.
No, you look at him curiously until your eyes drop to below his waist and they widen as you take him in fully. The grey sweatpants don’t hide much and Santi feels some of his swagger return to him when he clocks the interest and arousal reflected in your eyes.
“You know what you do to me querida when you parade around looking so perfect and press yourself against me? I’m only a man,” his voice is husky as he steps closer and raises his hand to hover over your left breast. You hold your breath and wait for him to continue, the naked desire in your eyes so clear now.
“You make me crazy with want. The dreams I have of you are downright filthy and I want to recreate each and every one of them with you. Can I querida? Can I suck on these pretty tits and see if I can make you come just from that?”
A second.
Two.
You nod, licking your lips.
He snakes the other hand around your waist and pulls you in, while grasping the breast closest to him. His nimble fingers find your erect nipple through the mesh and he crashes your lips together, both your lips and tongues moving as you begin exploring each other.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
One minute, Fitz was in a crouch watching his best friend from across the training mat, doing his best to try to anticipate which way she might pounce and not overthink the fact that he was the only man partnered with a woman. Not that working with a woman was a problem for him. Jemma was a perfect partner for him in the lab. He wouldn’t have anyone else.
But that didn’t make sparing with her - or any other woman - exactly comfortable.
In which Fitz is clueless and Jemma has limited chill. (Again)
Virgil’s not a stranger to Deceit’s room and he is welcome, but he’s surprised to find a little voodoo doll of Roman on his next visit, Deceit insists he can have it. He starts playing around with it, unknowingly making Roman come multiple times.
Fandom: Ikémen Vampire
Kinktober: Day 7 || Accidental Stimulation
Genre: NSFW +18
Word Count: 1000
Author’s note: Hyello! It me and my oh-so-horrible pun-game” kill me. I am back with an drabble of our dear apple boi, whom I’ve taken notice everyone LOVES to torture. I am preparing for the next 2 days as fast as possible. There’s a lot of sin to come yet and I cannot wait to share mine and read yours too. Please enjoy and I shall see your tomorrow 🎃
[The challenge] ~ @alloveroliver
His eyes have been following her all day, making it extremely difficult to focus on any of his own tasks. She dressed differently today. Her white dress accentuated every delicious feminine curve, fitting her body like a glove, her hair put in a high ponytail leaving the nape of her neck exposed. Her velvety, soft lips lightly tinted red looked for soft and kissable. Isaac felt his self-control reaching it’s melting point, his eyes trained on the tantalising sway of her hips as she walk pass him in the hallway.
He tore his gaze away, ashamed by his improper thought and this unbefitting behaviour that took over him. He heard her gasp softly and the thumb of something hitting the carpeted floor. He turned around only to meet with the view of her perfectly rounded derriere as she bended down to fetch her fallen pen. He could swear his heart would explode if he stood there a moment more. He hurried to enter the library face beet-red, in hopes to regain his composure in the quiet chamber.
The girl saw Isaac practically running inside the library room and began to worry about his unusual demeanour. They have gotten closer as of late and she had grown used to his shy nature and character. Today’s actions, however, led her to believe something wasn’t right and she decided to follow him and find out what’s wrong.
As soon as he came into the library Isaac inhaled deep breaths attempting to cool himself down. But tried as he might he couldn’t refrain his mind’s eye from recalling what he just saw, all the while a tension kept building up beneath his torso. Curiously his trouser felt too tight for him at that moment, almost uncomfortable so. He dared himself to look down, his breath hitching at his throat at the sight of his very apparent erection.
His face has flustered and his breathing heavier as he contemplated how to fix his problem. His heartbeat ceased as the door creaked open and the soft voice calling his name in a worried tone. The object of his desire stood at the door, hands clasped over her mouth and her gaze fixed at bulge of his pants. He stood perfectly still, too petrified to think or act. The doors closing “click” brought her back to her senses and raised her eyes to meet Isaac’s.
“D-don’t look at me!!” He yelled as he turn himself around to escape her piercing and shocked gaze.
“I-Isaac I’m so sorry, I didn’t…” she turned herself around likewise, pressing her forehead on the door as her words trailing off.
The feeling of his restrain being torn was almost palpable, her flustered voice apologising and the labour in her breathing drummed in his ears. He could see her bosom heaving heavily in his mind’s eye, and he could no longer control himself. He snapped...
“I…I didn’t saw…a-anything. I promise I..” she felt a hand grabbing her and turning her around while pushing her against the heavy wooden door. “I-Isaa..ahn” her words were swallowed by his hungry lips crashing against hers. She held onto his vest for dear life as his kisses became greedier and his hands roamed her curves with urgency, sliding down her back to grope her rear. Her moans against his lips only fanned the flames of desire that licked at his feet, making his mind less and less rational.
Before he could think twice her took her hand and guided it to cup his erection. Her surprised gasp gave him the opportunity to slide his tongue between her lips as he rubbed her hand against his clothed shaft. He broke their heated kiss and opened his cherry coloured eyes, ensnaring her in his feverish gaze.
“It’s your fault… For looking so beautiful, so temping, so absolutely divine” he brushed his lips against hers and captured her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging it roughly. “Can you feel what you’ve done to me?”, he asked in a husky voice.
The girl’s eyes fluttered, both stunned and delirious with lust. She let out a quickening breath before she grabbed him by his neckless tugging him towards her. Their lips clashed again ardently while her hand massaged his bulge, coaxing whimpers and groans from the physician. She sucked his bottom lip as she splayed her hands on his chest and pushed him against the door. Her trembling hands unbuttoned his trousers and freed his manhood from it’s restrains, sighing at the sight.
“Since all of this is my fault, allow me to relieve you…Sir Isaac” before he had the chance to protest for the use of formalities she was down on her knees and began to suck his cock teasingly, strategically raising her eyes up to meet his and fluster him further. Isaac pressed himself against the wooden panel of the door as the sensation of her tongue and the vibration of her delighted humming sent waves of pleasure crashing down on him. As much as he wanted to hold off his climax he knew he wouldn’t last long, not when she teased him like that.
He gently grabbed onto her hair as she started to take his cock in and out of her mouth achingly slow, letting her name roll off his tongue distorted and mingled with breathy mewls. A loud moan of ecstasy escaped his lips, his essence coating her mouth after a particularly hard suck on the tip of his shaft. She pumped and swallowed his cum humming with satisfaction at her handy work. She looked up and locked his gaze on her before releasing him with an audible pop.
She licked her lips, smiling deviously as her fingers traced the buttons of her shirt. “Is there anything else I can do for your, Sir?”
Chest still heaving he felt his arousal coiling again below his torso, his eyes glazed anew with lust as he watched the anticipation reflected in her gaze. Isaac left a low chuckle rumble in his throat, his protruding fangs apparent in his devilish grin.
