it’s rare for you and your boyfriend lip to go this long without sex.
one week.
seven days. seven long days.
that’s how long it’s been since you and lip last slept together.
before you and lip got together, you both had dry spells in your love lives. it was normal to go extended periods of time without sex. but it’s not as normal for you two to go that long now without each other. saving the melodramatics, you’ve seen each other almost every day, what with brandi attending ballet, and you coming over to see him and his kids. it’s just that his kids haven’t granted you two any alone time. they’re staying up late and wanting to do more activities being out of school.
outside of that, with your studio and lip’s computer job, you haven’t had time to take care of one another. it’s one of those rare droughts where the second you get into each other’s beds, you both prioritize sleep. that’s not to say it’s not nice being in each other’s arms after a long day of work and straining your brains, but it occurs to you how busy you’ve been one night when you doze off and lip’s lightly snoring while simultaneously being hard against your thigh.
“good mornin’, baby,” he rumbles, sleep thick on his usually soft tone, his small smile growing wider on his face as you greet him with gentle and attending kisses.
“morning,” kiss, “how’d you sleep?”
he inhales sharply as your hand traces down the lines of his stomach, your fingertips playing at the sensitive patch of skin right above the waistband of his boxers slung low on his hips. his stomach caves in as he breathes out around the same time your hand daringly slips beneath the cloth, palming the erection already prominently at attention. goddamn morning wood, vulnerable as his body wakes further and heightens his sensation.
“hmm, good,” he replies lazily, with a deep hum of pleasure to start as your hand wraps around his base.
“you?”
“good; still a little tired.”
he chuckles at your attempt to make small talk with him while your hand’s on his dick. it morphs into a groan as it begins to move, an unhurried up-and-down motion, one drawing sparks up his groin, tempering a crackling fire in his belly.
“baby, do you want somethin’?” he asks, unable to maintain the charade of pretending you’re not driving him wild with budding desire. you like the slight husk he adopts further from the lust in his system.
you nod coyly before you answer him. tease.
“i do.”
lip cups your jaw to kiss you deeper than the kisses you started with. his tongue slots against yours, grunts pour into your mouth, and your hand adjusts with clumsy speed. it’s harder to concentrate on touching him with his persistent, greedy mouth on yours, but you manage to administer more for him, twist your hand just right for him to hiss into your mouth. emboldened, you squeeze his girth, maintain your hold so he can thrust up into your fist a few times in desperation.
“what do y’want? tell me.” he sounds like he’ll give you the sun out of the sky if you asked.
his breathing shallows out as your hand strokes his cock, his heavy exhales pet your lips as he pulls back to press his forehead to yours. he’s so attractive when he’s needy like this, when he can’t think with anything else besides his dick. you want it inside you, want him losing himself, want him switching between moans and stuttering, blasphemous praise.
but you also need to make him writhe. you need to hear him, every raucous noise, pitch in tone, breathy whisper. you need to make him swelter with the instinctual rise of body temperature and the influx of a well-deserved, impending end.
you need to make lip gallagher feel good. you, wholeheartedly, you.
“i want to suck your cock.”
you watch live as lip’s heavy-lidded gaze widens. his head retreats inches, enough to view your face and all its sincerity, the genuine desire there to please him and engage in a filthy, lecherous blowjob. he somehow doesn’t cum on the spot as your thumb grazes his sensitive tip and he envisions your pretty lips around it.
“b-baby… i… you, you don’t have to,” he utters with a swallow that visibly jostles his adam’s apple in his throat.
“can go down on you, can fuck you. you don’t gotta—”
“but i want to,” you assert.
he curses as you stop dragging your hand on him, instead trailing fingertips up his length. particles of interest rack up his body, sparse nerve endings begging him to reconsider.
as a selfish lover growing up, he learned his style and attitude towards sex through a number of experiences with different women. he learned how to be more of a pleaser, the benefits of a woman’s orgasm, what it does for his ego, how much he revels when he does well for his partner, how hard it makes him to earn praise. when he makes you cum, it’s his love letter for being as amazing as you are to him, for being a salvation and a miracle. he’s never been religious, but the way your walls wrap around him, the way your back arches against his tongue, the way you yelp his name as he simultaneously erases every other word in the english language from your pretty head, it feels ascending. it feels aligned, like his contribution to the world.
and you, his gorgeous, gorgeous girl, you want to suck him off?
“… o-okay,” he acquiesces, because he has no idea how to tell you no when he wants it so badly himself, and he sees in your eyes that you somehow want it just as much (which he never thought he’d witness due to how he consistently prioritizes your pleasure).
“yeah? you want it?”
he huffs when you repeat the same words to him like he did when he first ate your cunt, especially with that smug, sly smile gracing your lips. it transitions into a sharp intake of air however when your hand regains momentum on his cock. he doesn’t think he’s ever been more solid with blood.
“yes, fuck… i want it. want you to suck my cock,” he drunkenly blurts. as always, without a morsel of shame as he bucks into your hand.
you beam with his eager compliance.
you’re surprised it took this long to get to this, but it’s hard when you’re both always so willing to get to the part where he’s filling you, stretching you, and fucking you. it occurred to you the other day how he’s seemingly distracted you from attending to him from how much he does it for you. and that’s a criminal fact, in your opinion. you’re going to rectify it starting today, make him remember you want his enjoyment, and not just the kind he gets from getting you off. he deserves a hummer as often as you get the chance to.
there’s less precision as you throttle his cock and kiss him at the same time. his tongue dips and delves with growing hunger, solicitous as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth first. as much as you wish to kiss him breathless with the morning light pouring in through your curtains, you recall your mission, and reluctantly (because you love kissing lip, not because you don’t want to descend, because you really fucking do) kiss an untrained line down his jaw, down his neck, down the middle of his chest. it rises and falls with timorous tides; lip resists the urge to follow you and reattach his mouth to yours as he watches you reach his happy trail. it goes against his nature and his doctrine when it comes to sex with you, but he has to relinquish some control. he has to trust you, which he does, to please him and bring him to a newfound territory sculpted by you.
“wait,” he utters as you settle between his legs on your knees.
the sight alone is tantalizing. his pretty girl, the woman of his dreams, sat perched on her haunches for him.
“what?”
lip pushes off his elbows to sit up. in the process, he picks his pillow, the one designated for him, as well as a few others from your collection, up and stuffs them all behind himself against the headboard. you smile at his adjustments to be comfortable.
“wanted a better view,” he explains himself slyly.
you playfully roll your eyes before you return to your position from before. and that’s kissing down his stomach, now inclined. the stamps make it over his v-line and then your fingers curl around his waistband. he lifts his hips to help you take his boxers off, momentarily bending his knees to get them all the way off, and then the underwear falls to the floor. as he resettles against the pillows, you glance at his erection. the tip glistens with arousal, flushed crimson, visibly twitching and pulsating under your observant gaze. you come forward and kiss the head of his cock, each one sticky, each lingering, each one creating strings of pre cum connecting to your lips, only to break as soon as they’re made. lip’s eyelids lower halfway as he watches, the way you’re choosing to start teasing and stoking flames.
“so pretty,” he says in a light tone, one arm draping over his stomach, the other maneuvering to the back of his head. he offers himself up for your discretion, for your exploration, relaxes beneath you knowing this is going to be everything to him, for him.
your lips slightly part as you rain kisses down his shaft next. just enough to flick your tongue over sensitive flesh and then administer a light suction, leech and deliberately choose random spots. you feel him thicken against your mouth, a heady groan surpassing his lips. part of the fun in this is racking up his need for you, already insurmountable on its own. it rises in amount, the twitch in his hips signaling how he wants more, but he retrains himself to let you set the pace. if he thinks you’re pretty worshipping his dick, he has no idea how he looks underneath you, flushed and breathing shallowly, the muscles in his body flexing with protruding, tattle-telling veins.
“oh fuck me,” he blurts, unbridled and impassioned, eyes shut closed for a moment like he can’t believe it, as you finally take him into your mouth.
to confirm it, to relish in it and savor it, he opens his eyes to the sight of your lips stretched around his tip. he releases a lost moan as you daringly take more of him, sliding inches of his cock further into your mouth, tongue swiveling over him as you do. it’s a surge of sensation that zips up his spine feeling your tongue undulate against the ridge between his cock head and shaft, the suckle you grant him with hollowing cheeks. in that instance, you look up at him, the eye contact telling him it’s you who’s got him this coiled up, it’s you who’s making him feel this good, and it’s you who begins to bob your head on him back and forth.
“shit, fuck, baby,” he groans.
“look at you… suckin’ cock like a good girl.”
his words come out thick and dense, in a growl, pushing boundaries. you have to clamp your thighs together to relieve some of the ache between them, your arousal from this debauched act and his vulgar speech sticking your panties to your cunt. you’re not throbbing like lip is in your mouth, but you’re hyper-aware of your heartbeat in your pussy, currently thumping for his attention, like a homing beacon calling him home.
he notices your legs close due to the angle and he feels for you. he’s got a love-hate relationship with the current circumstances. he loves what you’re doing, loves you and that perfect fucking mouth, but he hates how he can’t help you out from your positioning, hates how his baby’s aching for him while he moans and careens towards an intense orgasm.
“touch yourself f’me, baby. gettin’ off from my dick hittin’ the back of your throat, aren’t you? fuckin’ filthy, holy shit.”
you whimper around him as his hips buck up involuntarily. before you obey his command, you move his hand from his stomach and place it onto your head. he sucks in a sharp breath.
“you sure?”
you nod. or at least try to as you swallow collecting spit around him, which causes a contraction around him that makes him mutter more curses. he gets the memo, his fingers splaying out over the back of your head as he starts to thrust up into your mouth. and there’s something to be said about the love of your life fucking up into your mouth as he freely grunts and moans, letting him use you in a building rhythm as he approaches his climax.
you do as previously told and stick your hand between your legs, sliding your fingers over your clit with ease due to the arousal pooling from your empty hole. he’s treated to the beautiful view of you touching yourself, of your spit trailing down to his base and over your fingers you’ve got wrapped around him that don’t make it into your mouth. he feels your occasional sputter, but you’re the one who insists on keeping him inside your mouth, a fact that drives him as crazy as this whole thing.
“m’gonna cum,” he heaves, trying to slow his hips and remove his hand from your head to let you come up, but your own hand flies from his base to his wrist to keep it there.
you share a look together. your lashes flutter as you resume the jostle of your head in your attempts to replicate his rough fucking. without needing to ask, he knows what you’re doing and saying, what you’re permissing.
you fucking angel.
he croaks your name, unable to last any longer, head thrown so back that it knocks the headboard. but he doesn’t seem to care or even register the thud because he has single-minded focus on his cum shooting down your throat. you swallow the viscous load with a bit of a struggle and an admitted gag that has lip almost whine from sensitivity because of how your throat momentarily grips him tighter. you stroke him as he rides it out, finally lifting your head to kitten lick him clean. he’s half hard as you bathe your tongue over his spit-covered cock, capture the remnants of his cum, offer lip a lecherous and addictive sight that he wouldn’t mind seeing again and again in his lifetime. he should’ve let you do this, and asked for it, a lot sooner.
once he’s twitching and clean, you sit back on your knees. your lips are slightly swollen and dewy, lust visibly swimming in your dilated pupils, and you’re a dream come true to him.
“thank you,” you say, your voice corrupted and sore from his cock in your mouth.
he can hardly believe it. you’re thanking him like he did something for you when it should be the other way around. fuck, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.
“get up here,” he practically growls.
you ascend lip’s body quicker once his hands tuck under your arms and suddenly pull you in with masculine strength you sometimes forget about. a noise of surprise leaves you as you wind up in his lap, mindful of his length leaning to one side, and his mouth crashes against yours unashamedly. he kisses you with a fever that you ignited, licking into your mouth, sloppily fusing his with yours as he grabs ahold of your hips. your lips tingle with his deep, starving kisses, inhaling the groan that comes from him with the lingering taste of his cum, a reminder of what you’ve done to him, what’s driven him this crazy and worked up. he uses his grip on your hips to grind your center over his length, your clit rubbing him just right through your sodden panties. lip kisses you as you whimper, kisses you as his cock stiffens once more, kisses you as he circles his hands all the way to your ass to grope and knead. your mouth opens in shock and need as he delivers a firm smack to one side. you don’t know how, but it makes you clench around nothing, doubling down in your rocking atop of him, glissading the damp fabric trapping your center over his springing arousal.
“on your stomach,” he mutters with a tap onto your hip before he uses his hold on your hips to drag you off to the side onto the mattress.
as lip gets up from bed and rummages through your bedside drawer, you rid the rest of your clothing and follow protocol for the position he implies. and that’s placing a pillow beneath your pelvis as well as one under your chin as you wait for him in anticipation. you’re picturesque, absolutely stunning, to lip, so much so that you distract him as he attempts to find the box of condoms you purchased together not too long ago.
“fuck!” he suddenly exclaims.
you turn your cheek and notice his head back, his frustrated expression on his features… the way his cock is sticking out and heavy between his legs.
“what’s wrong?”
instead of verbally answering you, lip presents the aforementioned box of condoms. once he knows you’re looking at it, he flips it upside down and shakes it, not a single packet falling from inside. you understand instantly, a small pout forming on your puffy mouth with what this could mean.
he sets the empty, betraying box onto the nightstand with a bit of force. normally, he’d go to the nearest convenience store amid your lovemaking and restock, return and wind you up all over again, but he’s so fucking hard right now that he thinks he might die.
his mind races with what can possibly be done. he’s not against using condoms, which is the issue that had him produce two kids, but he knows it’s what makes you more comfortable. it’s what he’s been stricter with on himself in past hookups and flings. but you’re not a hookup or a fling; you’re the love of his life and the only woman he wants to be inside of for the rest of it.
so he approaches the bed, planting his hands on the edge as he surveys your tantalizing body ready and willing for him, stretched out like you could will and make a condom appear yourself.
“i know we always use condoms,” he begins, “but, baby, i’m fuckin’ hard as a rock and i need to fuck you now.”
he falters in his speech as you eye him with those beautiful eyes. there’s coyness and a search for guidance as he explains himself. he doesn’t want to sound so demanding, like he’s pressuring you.
“you can say no…” god, please don’t say no.
“but i promise, i’ll be careful. i’ll-i’ll-i’ll pull out and make sure i finish somewhere—”
“i’m on the pill.”
his jaw slackens as he parrots your revelation in his head. he recalls you saying how you didn’t like the side effects and what it did to your body when it previously came up (since it’s not the first time he’s asked about going without protection).
“we have a lot of sex… wanted to be extra safe,” you murmur sheepishly. you feel a bit of a thrill in your belly seeing him continue to stare at you with an open mouth of surprise.
“i just started almost two weeks ago. was going to tell you, but…”
you were both busy. lip knows that. he’s been painfully aware since the last time you two had sex was longer than usual for you two.
“so it’s okay. you… you don’t have to pull out. want it inside me.”
he seems frozen in place as he processes what you’re saying. you don’t know how to feel about him gaping at you like this, expecting him to be thrilled, to have a more jovial reaction to the news.
as you’re about to ask if he was uncomfortable with it, you let out a small breath, lip’s body suddenly covering yours with lightning speed. he molds his chest to the curvature of your back, noses his way to your neck to kiss and suck on first. his cock nestles against the cleft of your ass as he works his way up your jaw, turns your chin with his hand, and kisses you with longing and promise and what feels like gratitude.
“wanted to fill y’up for so long,” he confesses. you whine as he shifts so his dick rests right in the snug valley between your folds. his hips maneuver so he can coat himself with your slickness and allow you a preview of his motion, of what he’ll do to you.
no strangers to this position, his arm carefully snakes underneath your neck. your cheek leans into his bicep, trusting him fully to constrict just the way you need it as he pounds away into your willing body. then lip prods your entrance with his tip, gives a gentle push to notch and breach the crown of himself inside your ready heat.
“fuck, lip,” you gasp.
“mhm, i know,” he agrees with a kiss onto your temple.
“feel you tryin’ to pull me in. pussy’s needy for my cock, ain’t she?”
he inserts every inch in a singular, gradual, decisive push into you. the skin to skin contact, flesh on flesh, is incredibly different than when the two of you have a latex barrier dividing you a layer apart. but that extra layer matters, because you both feel the stark rise in temperature coming from your cunt and his dick, and lip heaves as your tightness envelopes him into a gripping embrace he’s never felt so inviting, so sheathing, he has no fucking idea how you two didn’t do this sooner. you’re fucked, in more ways than one, because your thoughts are basically where his are, in that now you have no clue how you’re supposed to go back with him stretching you this perfectly, every pulse of his cock lighting inner nerves with vast, volatile sensation. your head falls limp, choking yourself further on his arm, a lovely pressure that crackles fireworks in your sense of equilibrium.
“feels so big like this, baby,” you mindlessly utter.
lip groans; you can’t say shit to him like that right now. don’t you know his control is precariously hanging by a thin thread?
“s’cause you’re grippin’ me to death,” he responds with a husky breath.
once you’re adjusted, he starts to move. his hips softly collide with your ass each time he thrusts into you, ensuring he doesn’t withhold pressure in his slow strokes. he pushes forward as deep as he possibly can before he pulls back, up until your pussy’s clamping on the ridge beneath his tip, and then he’s gliding back in. he reaches something deep inside of you with the way he’s prioritizing the exploration of your depths, orchestrating higher pitched moans from each plunge, each pound that he works into a rhythm that has you both filling the room with pleasured, raucous noises. he squeezes you shoulder as he offers more exertion, as well as those purred grunts right next to your ear, another sign of what he’s doing to you, what you’re doing to him. pure euphoria sinks into you much like lip is sinking into you, until it feels like it’s a part of you, like lip feels a part of you.
“lip, i’m close,” you chirp, strained from his arm on your neck.
“i got you, i got you… you’re goin’ to pull it right out of me,” he slurs, like it’s a fact, foreshadowing and inevitable.
his free hand reaches around your thigh, mindful of the pillow under your hips, and locates the button above the silk he’s percussively drumming into. you whine as he pets it in circles and ovals, your walls clenching around him, drawing a fucked out noise from him. he sharply thrusts at an angle, timing this just right as you cry his name and reach your high, in tandem as he jerks as into you as humanly possible and climaxes with a loud moan. his arm involuntarily constricts tighter around your throat in turn for a few incredibly blissful seconds. you’re still clamping on his girth as you feel liquid warmth join his moored cock, the amount leaking around his base. he fucks it into you with a lazy, wet plap, plap, plap before he ceases in holding himself up and drops his full weight over your back. that’s when his arm lets up, smushing apologetic kisses onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, his breath tickling your sweaty skin.
“i fuckin’ love you.”
you chuckle against his arm, finding it funny how easily he says it now when you both first had trouble letting it out.
“love you, too.”
he nuzzles his nose into your neck, the side unoccupied by his bicep, the two of you becoming quieter as you catch your breaths. it takes minutes before you’re regulated to somewhat normal and lip starts to push up off you.
“gimme some time and i’ll get hard again,” he says with a sated tone. your cheeks flush with his promise.
“am i supposed to rot in your mess until then?” you mumble playfully.
lip carefully, and reluctantly, pulls out. he sees the said mess dripping out of you, your pretty cunt covered in a pearly, milky substance that glistens on your inner thighs. he can’t take his eyes away from the sight.
“i’ll clean it.”
you squeak as lip tugs your hips up, your upper body not bothering to follow behind.
“baby,” you gasp, croon into your pillow as his hot tongue laps at your folds. his nose glides against your soft opening as he curls his tongue for more.
you knew your man was dirty, but not that dirty.
it seems you’ve unlocked another side of him. one that’s going to be fucking cum into you for the next few hours and cleaning it just like this until you’re both ready to leave bed and finally have breakfast.
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tags: @purplerainx1, @pain-in-the-ashe, @smoooore, @natureartisian, @pb-n-jen