handsy
boyfriend!anton x reader | 2.2k words
contains: fingering, body worship (??)
Anton’s hands were made to do everything. Long before his hands learned any talent they did everyday mundane tasks. But even before Anton became an adult and learned the importance of self-maintenance, he knew he had pretty hands. He took pride in his slender fingers and his soft palms and the gentle creases and folds. He was no stranger to comparing hand sizes or the look of surprise on people’s faces when they grazed his soft palm. Anton was humble though, every compliment he received he took in with a smile and a bashful shake of his head.
Anton knew that you took a liking to his hands very early on. Before your relationship started and you were too shy to be too specific with your compliments, Anton could tell there was something you wanted to say, and that his hands seemed to make you nervous. He knew you had an affinity for grabbing at his wrist and stare at at his fingers whenever he’d point or prod at you playfully. Anton even started speaking more with his hands just for you, finding enjoyment in the way your eyes flitted down before focusing back on his face.
He still remembers the first time you gave yourself the chance to really look at them. His hands were also made for you to mindlessly play with as you two focused on other things. Quality time and physical touch rolled into one, you two sat on the couch side by side while your hands played with his and the other scrolled on your phone. Anton was focused on something of his own, his laptop opened as he felt his hand be touched by yours. With his eyes still focused on his laptop he felt the way you were holding him change. Suddenly, his fully extended hand was pressed flat against yours, palm to palm as you compared the sizes. Then Anton felt you form his hand into a fist before you pulled out each finger, rubbing your thumb over each nail bed and perfectly trimmed cuticle until his palm was fully extended again. He was malleable against your touch, not fighting back when you your full focus on him. Anton felt his hand twist and turn during your inspection, and when he finally turned his head again he saw you try your best to say your compliment nonchalantly.
“I really like your hands.”
That was all it took. Anton pinched your warm cheek afterwards and did the bashful thank you like he always did, but after that moment something changed. You didn’t hide your liking for Anton’s hands and he didn’t hide his belief that his hands were made for you. They were meant to open doors for you and hold your hand, they were meant to press against the small of your back when walking through all crowds and helping you open up jars or hold your purse. They were meant to pick you up and slide underneath your shirt or slip past your waistband.
They were made to do what he was doing now, gently playing with your clit while the other kneaded your chest. Anton’s hands fully believed their purpose, rubbing slow circles until you let a tiny whine out right next to his ear.
“I’m watching the movie.” Anton said before pulling you into his side.
Anton felt your eyes trained on the side of his face, he could see in his peripheral that you bit your lip to try and hold back sounds he would mockingly shush you for making. When you realized he wasn’t budging you looked down, and a whimper slipped past your teeth at the view of Anton’s hand disappearing past your waistband. When Anton saw the view for himself he scooted closer on his side and brought your leg between his so you could feel his clothed dick jump against your leg. He slowly dragged his dick against your thigh before sliding his fingers further into your pants.
You never meant to end up with Anton’s hand underneath your shirt and the other in your pants. One moment you were on your back while Anton was on his side, the two of you getting ready to watch the movie. One thing led to another like it always did, Anton pulled you closer to his body as his hand traced shapes on whatever part of you he could reach. He always pretended that his teasing were mindless actions, that the tiny shapes on your stomach or the pinches on your arms was just a habit. Your habit was always getting strung up on the feeling of him touching you, and the side of his face that was just so pretty. The moment Anton noticed you were responding to him it was over. He started getting more grabby, moving his pinches to the fleshy parts of your waist and pressing deeper into your skin. He still kept his eyes on the movie as his hand traced shapes all the way to your waistband. He stayed there like the tease he was, folding and pawing at the elastic as it pressed into your skin. Anton always waited for when you would have enough and gently push his hand lower. Each time he would get a smirk on his face before turning to you, like he was fulfilling a purpose.
“You really do like my hands, huh?” He said teasingly.
He feigned indifference while his other hand was already working underneath your bra. Sometimes he didn’t even waste the time to push your shirt and bra up to your neck to reveal your chest. Something about the covertness of it all, seeing the movement underneath your layers of clothes. Anton liked feeling your bra press against the back of his hand and the waistband of your shorts on his wrist. The sight further solidified the notion that his hands were always meant to be on you in some capacity.
He was meant to pull noises out of you and cause you to arch your back and close your eyes in bliss. He was meant to kiss your cheek and watch you try and give him a distracted kiss back even though he had already pulled away. The movie was long forgotten, instead Anton tuned into the way you gripped his forearm and was so close to begging for more.
“Does it feel that good?” He asked with a smile still on his face.
“God. So good.” You mumbled.
Blessed are the hands that serve. Or was it Blessed hands serve? Whichever it was, Anton truly believed it. Anytime he had the opportunity to have you like this purely because of his fingertips he realized he was blessed. God himself shined down on Anton each time he was able to cause a twitch in your body or coax a hushed sound from your throat. He was blessed to have someone so receptive to his touch and respond to his ever word.
Sometimes it felt like you clung to every syllable, letting it hang in the air a few moments as your foggy mind thought of a response. Anton never meant to be a tease, but he developed the nasty habit of reveling in your reaction to his mockery and the way you clung to him so desperately.
He bent down until his nose was touching the side of your head and took his time bringing in a big inhale of you. He smelled the product you put in your hair that morning, the faint smell of your body soap that still clung to your skin and something else. Anton could only describe the scent as you, it permeated the air and stuck to his fingers and travelled all the way up to his nose. Anton wanted to bathe in it, he wanted to become it. He let out a shaky exhale into your hair, his warm breath absorbed by your already clammy skin. You let out a shaky breath yourself when Anton reached his hand further into your pants and pressed the pad of his finger to your slit.
“So wet.” He tsked.
You tried to turn your head to look at Anton, but he kept his face pressed to the side of yours. It forced you to look at the lump his hand created underneath the fabric of your shorts. He was baring witness too, smiling to himself when he watched your stomach twitch and jump in anticipation.
“Please don’t tease me.” You begged.
Anton’s smile only got wider, he was sure you could feel the curve in his lips against your skull and the smile in his voice as he spoke.
“Who said I was teasing you?” Anton pressed the pads of his fingers deeper into your slit, so close to actually being inside of you. “I’m just saying you’re really wet.” He reasoned.
You still shook your head, your hand that gripped his waist moved to hold the covers you sat on top of. When Anton would press particularly hard you would arch your back and try and preen your hips towards his fingers. The third time you let your hips flick upwards and a shaky breathy moan Anton laughed and kissed the side of your head.
“Want me to use my fingers?” He asked honestly.
The small amount of pride you had left a long time ago. You unabashedly nodded your head at Anton’s question, you even moved further to Anton’s body when he opened up his arm to you.
“Come here.” He cooed.
Anton put his arm behind your head and pulled you close to him. He pressed his fingers deeper and deeper into your slit, and finally you felt the relief of Anton’s two fingers pushing into your heat. When you parted your lips to moan and finally let out the sounds you kept muffled Anton pushed two fingers into your mouth.
He watched in satisfaction as the initial surprised waned to acceptance and in an instant Anton felt your tongue swirl over his digits. He felt the flat part of your tongue run over his smooth nail beds, and the tip of your tongue pry between the cracks in his fingers. Your tongue moving frantically pushed Anton to speed up his fingers inside of you, and he pulled away slightly to see your eyes closed in bliss. He took the time to gaze down at your own hands, one of them fisting the covers while the other clutched at his clothed thigh. He went back to the sight of his hand underneath your shorts, doing what they did best. When your teeth grazed his fingers Anton quickened the pace of his fingers and worked in a third when you stopped sucking on his fingers completely. Your hand that was playing with the duvet cover grabbed his wrist to push it deeper into your pants.
“Anton.” Your words came out muffled from his fingers that pressed into your tongue. “I’m close.”
His hum of acknowledgment was becoming whiny, he started feeling himself pulse at the sight of you becoming undone. Intense fulfillment flooded over Anton seeing you screw your eyes shut and whimper around his fingers. He placed a kiss to the side of your cheek and sped up his hand fighting against the resistance of your shorts and underwear.
“Your fingers are so nice.” You whimpered.
When Anton bent his fingers at the knuckle inside of you, your entire body seized up. He started grinding the butt of his palm against your clit and used the figners that weren’t in your mouth to turn your head completely towards him. He kiss your occupied lips, he flicked his tongue against yours and his fingers that were still wedged into your mouth. Anton continued kissing your through your open-mouthed pants and moans, making up for your delayed kisses tenfold. He continued kissing you when your whimpers turned to labored moans and your nails dug into his wrist. He just continued licking and kissing your mouth and his fingers while pumping in and out of your spasming heat.
When your body stopped twitching and you started shaking your head from the overstimulation, Anton finally stopped. He pulled his hand from your mouth and fixed your disheveled shirt. He preserved the tiny string of spit that connected your parted lips to his fingers until he got to the bottom of your shirt. He pulled down the pinched end of your bra to make sure it covered your chest the same way it did before. After that when your body went limp, Anton finally drew his fingers from inside of you. He pulled his hand from your pants, following the lump he caused and the sound the elastic waistband hitting your skin. His eyes went to his fingers, sticky and glistening while he held it up to both of your faces. Anton felt your flushed cheek burn against his as he slowly pressed his fingers together and pulled them apart, watching the slimy strings of your cum web between the digits.
Anton watched with a fascination that ended with a breathy laugh when you covered your face. He stuck his fingers into his mouth, licking up everything until he no longer tasted you. When he was done he used his wet fingers to tilt your chin towards him, and he pressed his lips to yours in one last sweet kiss. Anton smiled when he noticed you taste yourself on his lips, and he pulled away to gently rub your cheek. When you uncovered your face and opened your eyes Anton laughed at your blown out pupils that were only just starting to return back to normal.
“Let’s get back to the movie.”
commission me on my ko-fi or send a one time tip here👩💻
