Can i request where LH decided to tease reader's nipples with hands above their head before ravishing them.
sure! going to ignore the original ending and continue from this drabble a little bit...
What you wouldn’t give for five extra—
“Lewis!” Angela’s voice is loud and too-close in the large hotel suite. You wait any longer and she’ll barge in - it’s not the first time she’ll have found you like this - but today is a special day.
Lewis lets your finger fall from his mouth with a pop, licking his lips as he stares you down. “Yeah Ange! Five minutes!”
Instead of stepping away like you expect him to, Lewis's hands find yours and he raises them above your head, five fingers wrapped taut around your wrists as his free hand drops to your bra, the soft pads of his fingers tracing over the dark lace.
"Gonna have to stay quiet," he whispers before leaning in to capture your lips in a smothering kiss. "I need more of you before we go, another taste. Please, baby?"
You nod, a barely there movement that quickly turns large and rapid as he dips his head. His tongue peeks out to trace your covered nipple and it's nowhere near enough yet your back arches for him, bowing taut at his barely-there touch.
He moves his head to repeat the motion on your other breast and you're desperate to give him more, fighting against his grip to touch him back.
"Stop it." He finally pulls the lace down to expose one of your breasts to the cool air. "You smell so fucking good," he murmurs, dragging his nose along the dip of your cleavage and over the swell of your breasts. "Like a goddamned dream."
"It's Baccarat Rouge," you whisper, relishing in the feeling of his grin and stubble against your skin. "The one you spoil me with."
"Love spoiling you," he says, almost to himself, as he leans in to finally run his tongue over your expose nipple. You can't contain the gasp that escapes as he seals his lips around the now-hard nub and he chuckles, the vibrations from his mouth traveling straight over your skin.
He sucks, hard enough to drag you forward an inch, then two, a whine creeping up your throat at the delicious pressure.
When he lifts his mouth, you're prepared to beg, to plead with him to give you more, but then he's tugging down the lace covering your other breast and settling his lips over your nipple and you practically relax into him, giving into his feast of your skin.
Angie bangs on the bathroom door then, three sharp knocks that are enough to startle you back into the real world. "You'll have time to do all of that later, we've got to go!" You can tell she's smiling even through her shout and Lewis chuckles, letting your wrist go and rearranging your bra.
"Was I being too loud?" you whisper, watching a bit distractedly as his hands move across your skin.
He laughs again, the sound loud and bright in the confined space, and even when he kisses you, he can't stop giggling. "Yeah, love, you were, but I love it."
miss formula naughty PLEASE PLEASE WRITE SOMETHING WITH THAT MASSAGE GIF AND MICHAEL IM-💥🌪🌧💦
inspired by x, obviously explicit, rest is under the cut
When you stood up from the couch, you groaned, your sore muscles protesting each and every move.
“Babe? You okay?”
You stretch your hands above your head and shift your hips side to side in an attempt to loosen the aches. “I’m alright. That new workout you put me though just has everything in my back all knotted up.”
“Go take a warm shower to loosen everything up. I’ll meet you in the bedroom when you’re done.”
You don’t question his command, instead you just stumble into your shared bedroom towards the large shower, cranking the water hot to fill the bathroom with steam.
You probably stood under the spray for too long but the hot water felt delicious on your skin, warming you all the way through. You paused for a minute after shutting the water off to stretch your muscles again, pleased that some of the tension had gone.
“Feeling any better?” Michael’s voice was muddled through the closed door.
You wrap a towel tight around you and reach for the handle, finger combing your hair as you pull it open. “Yeah, a bit. There’s still some sore-”
Michael grins at your surprised face. He motions to the bed where he’s spread out a large towel, and in one hand he’s holding a bottle of massage oil. There’s a lit candle on the nightstand and you’re almost certain he’s playing music somewhere, peaceful gongs and other instruments. “C’mon, I’ve got everything ready.”
You kneel on the bed and Michael chuckles, grabbing the edge of your towel and tugging the fabric from your body, leaving you naked in the cool room. “Lay on your tummy.”
You move around until you’re where he’d like you, then he surprises you again by swinging a leg over your calves and climbing onto the bed behind you, straddling your thighs. “Is this okay?”
“Mmhmm.” You relax under his weight and he leans in to press a kiss to your bare shoulder.
His hands are warm and slippery when he presses them firmly into your shoulder blades, immediately pulling a groan from your lips at the pressure. “Tell me if go too hard.”
Your thighs press together at his words but you force yourself to relax and enjoy the massage. He’s skillful with his hands, digging in with his fingertips and pressing with his palms, smoothing over your skin in all of the right areas.
“Where is it the worst?” His hands dip low, arching over there lower curve of your ribs and down towards your waist.
“There,” you gasp, the muscles in your abdomen protesting all at once. Your obliques are on fire but the smooth glide off his hands smooths the pain away. “And my lower back,” you manage to bite out between arcs of his hands. “Please.”
He pauses to apply more oil. When he shifts lower on your legs, you can just feel the hem of his boxer briefs and when he leans back in, you feel him hard and heavy against your leg. He works out the knots in your lower back slowly, like he’s relishing the feeling of his hands on your skin. His hands dip lower, spreading the oil that’s left over your butt cheeks, and you moan, arching up into his touch.
He repeats the movements over and over, massaging the oil into your skin in long, deep strokes until you’re writhing beneath him, just shy of begging for more.
“Shh, I know. I made all these muscles hurt, now I’m gonna make them feel better.”
“Those don’t — oh.” His fingertips slide between your cheeks, just brushing over your asshole, before dipping lower to where you’re already dripping for him.
“Oh, sweetheart. You’re absolutely soaked.” He runs his fingertips through your folds and over each set of lips before passing over your clit entirely, chuckling at your cry of protest. He brings his hand back around, running tenderly over the sharp tendons between your legs. He messages you there too, shushing you each time you begin to beg him for more. Finally, when you’re nearly trembling with need, he relents, dipping his fingers into you in what is the start of a torturously slow fingering. He curls his fingers just right and your hips work too meet him stroke for stroke.
“Come on love, give it to me. Give me one and I’ll fill you up. Relax and let me have it, yeah? There you go baby, that’s it.”
The orgasm that you’ve been teetering in for what feels like ages doesn’t hit you all at once but instead rolls over you in heavy, unrelenting waves that pull sobs from deep in your chest. It’s an ugly orgasm, you’re sure - some of them are! - but you can’t bring yourself to care. You know he doesn’t. Michael stills his fingers deep inside of you as he hangs on through your climax, barely brushing them against the spongy skin deep within you to wring every bit of pleasure he can from you.
“Need to have you,” he finally says, pulling his fingers from your slit with a squelch that leaves him groaning to himself. “Need to fill you up, baby, please.”
You nod, still lost in the pleasure of your first orgasm, and shift up onto your knees as he pulls himself free. You can feel it when he pauses to look, to take in the sight of you spread before him like this, and you relax into his gaze, the stretch of the position heaven for your now less-than-achey back.
“God, baby— You look—”
“Michael,” you whisper, a singular beg, and it sets him into motion.
He scoots in behind you on his knees and reaches in to thumb at your folds, watching as your muscles wink wetly up at him. He slides the head of his cock through your slick, up and down and up and down until you’re nearly hypnotized by the motion of it. When he does press in, it’s a slow, easy slide that leaves you both moaning, panting once he’s nestled deeply within you.
“‘m gonna fuck you now,” he whispers before setting a brutal pace, hands coming forward to tightly grip your hips, leveraging himself against you to angle just right.
You let him take then, let him use, and you grip the towel beneath you in a tight squeeze as another orgasm builds within you. He knows you’ll cum again around him - you always do - and he angles his thrusts just right, punching a scream from your lungs with a dark chuckle.
“There is is. Cum for me sweetheart. Cum on my cock.”
You hold your breath - three thrusts, four, five, si—
He groans as you gush around him, wetting his legs and the towel beneath you. You can’t even find it within you to care, too swept up in the enormity of the orgasm to give a fuck.
Michael doesn’t last long then - you’re too wet, too tight, too incredible - and he buries himself deep as he cums, stilling above you while he moans, the sound emanating from low within his throat.
You can’t help but giggle then, boneless and joyful. He joins you, smacking your ass with a gentle swat before pulling away, sitting back on his heels. You stay where you are for a moment, letting him look. You give your muscles there a slight squeeze, just for good measure, and it’s worth it when his breathing catches.
“Is your back okay?” he asks after climbing off of the bed.
You pull the towel off of the bed with you, moving towards the bathroom once again. “Yeah, it is. But just so you know - if I get that treatment every time, I may just have a sore back more often.”
Oh Miss FN!!! More George!! What about him slowly going from making out, all slow and steady to grinding against you, then pinning your hands above your head, getting more forceful and powerful? I'm convinced that man has a dark side he keeps hidden a bit too well
it's late in the evening and you're sitting in his lap, movie credits playing on the tv behind you - he'd been teasing with a hand on your thigh through the whole film, his thumb brushing back and forth over sensitive skin as he shifted his palm up and down. as soon as it had ended, you'd thrown a leg over his hips and hauled him close for a kiss. it had started innocent enough, just a light press of your lips.
then he grins when you get impatient, twisting your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck to pull. "s'matter love?"
"you're what's the matter," you pant, desperation written all over your face. his hands, now heavy on your hips, begin to drag you back and forth over his growing erection, heavy and hard through his sweatpants.
"i think you're the problem," he chides, leaning in to nip at your lower lip, smirking when your hips begin to roll without his assistance. "so desperate for it already. haven't even touched you yet."
"you've been touching me the whole time," you whine, aching, the friction between you not enough.
“s’that all it takes to get you wet for me?” he leans in, nosing at the sensitive skin behind your jaw, under your ear, chuckling when you can’t contain a moan. “c’mon sweetheart, tell me.”
you rock against him, forcefully enough that it yanks a sharp exhale from him. “find out for yourself.”
you feel him grin against your chin and then he’s moving, tipping you to the side as he grabs both of your wrists in one of his hands. he pins you to the couch cushions before you even think of countering him, his weight firm between your forcefully spread thighs.
you arch against his grip and your breathing quickens when you realize there’s no possible way you can escape him like this. his size - strength - more than surpasses yours. “george,” you whisper, urgent and needy, “please.”
“you’re beautiful when you beg for me, you know,” he replies with a smirk. it’s a sight to behold - he’s holding himself above you with an ease that you could never have, no matter how often you trained your abdominal muscles. there’s no pain in your wrists even when you press against his grip there - it’s tight and firm and it does nothing to sate the need you have for him.
he rocks against you and then the friction is there, bright and burning and hurtling you towards the edge of what you already know will be a devastating orgasm. he chuckles when you toss your head back and arch into his touch. “you want it love? take it. i want to watch you try.”
your eyes fly open to meet his and you can see the challenge in his eyes. “and if you can’t? well,” he says, dipping his head to kiss the pounding of your pulse in your neck, “we’ll just have to see how much more i can make you beg for it.”
hey, can i request something with prince charming mick. Something really soft like you spend the saturday night having a dinner with his family and ending the night watching a movie and you share a blanket with mick
ohh getting soft at chez FN tonight! i love it. a little bit of mr. mick “prince charming” schumacher under the cut!
——
If you were being honest with yourself, you couldn’t ask for a better way to spend the short, cold days of late January. Being with Mick was enough, but getting to stay with the whole Schumacher family on their Texas ranch was an absolute treat.
“C’mon Angie!” Mick shouts from the porch, grinning when the dog comes sprinting across the yard.
You were watching them play while the sun coasted below the horizon, the last few bright rays giving way to the cooler breeze of the evening. Corinna joins you on the porch and passes you a steaming mug of tea. Mick jumps from the porch and takes after Angie with a whoop.
“I think he was more excited to bring you here than he was to come home himself,” she says before blowing on her own mug. “He adores you.”
You both laugh as Angie tangles herself in his feet, both tumbling to the ground in a twist of fur and flannel. You can hear him teasing her lovingly from where you stand. “The feeling is mutual.”
When you turn back to her, she’s already focused on you, a soft smile on her lips as she watches you watch him. “I know, I can tell. Thank you, for being here for him.” She dumps what’s left in her mug into the grass and lets her free hand fall against her leg with a slap. “Let’s get supper ready, shall we? Mick! Food!”
You turn as he stands, his grin wide and hair a mess. The sunlight glints behind him, illuminating him, and you can’t help but stare as he jogs back towards you, taking the steps up to the porch two at a time. He presses a kiss to your cheek, his hands resting on your hips for a beat, before moving away, his focus on his best pal again.
——
Mick tosses another log into the fireplace and the smoldering embers hiss at the addition. You can feel the tendrils of warmth from here, the living room cozy and comfortable.
“Dinner was fantastic, thank you again Corinna.”
“You’re welcome! Thank you for your help. It’s nice to have an extra set of helpful hands around here.” She gives Mick a loving side-eye and the pair laugh. Gina navigates the Netflix screen and chooses a movie, one you and Mick had watched together a few weeks ago.
He gives you a wink before flopping down on the couch next to you, poking and nudging until you’re nestled snugly against his side. He reaches behind you and pulls a knit blanket from the back of the couch, the soft fabric smelling of clean soap and home. “Don’t tell them we’ve seen it,” he whispers in your ear as he situates the blanket over your bodies. “It will take her an hour to choose something else to watch.”
You lean into him, turning your head to press a kiss to the curve of his neck, watching the muscle in his jaw jump at the contact. “That wouldn’t be so bad.”
When he looks down at you, the blues of his eyes are bright. “I can think of a few other ways I’d rather spend the time,” he whispers, barely brushing his nose against yours.
“Mick?”
His head snaps up and Gina laughs so hard you can’t help but join in, giggling when Corinna wags a finger at him.
He snuggles in against you, his own laughter vibrating through you, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.
54 “can you help me with this zipper?” + 58 “wanna taste?” And getting ready with Lewis to go to the met gala/some big event. Sexual tension in the air, begging to be devoured in your dress, etc 😘
i hope this helps maybe heal some hearts 🤍
#54 "Can you help me with this zipper?" & #58 "Wanna taste?"
—
“Sweetheart? C’mon love, we’ve got to leave in a bit. Are you almost ready?” Lewis’ words echo down the hall, his final question more clearly as his head appears in the open bathroom doorway.
You cast a glance over your shoulder, arms stuck twisted above your head as you reach to secure your dress. “Can you help me with this zipper?”
He approaches with a smile, his gaze sweeping up and down your almost-dressed frame. “I thought you were going to wear the purple one.” He pulls gently at the delicate zipper running up your spine and you feel the fabric around your ribs pull snuggly into place. “Don’t get me wrong, this is— this is gorgeous, but I was going to match,” he says, pointing to the tiny purple pocket square poking out of his tuxedo, probably crafted from the same material as your custom gown. “Have you up there with me, you know.”
You can’t help but smile at his heartfelt sentiment. “I can change. I like the purple one better anyways.” You turn your back to him and he’s much slower to lower the zipper, taking his time. “Lewis?”
He leans in to press a kiss to the exposed nape of your neck, causing a shiver to run up your spine. He giggles and does it again. “Your skin just looks so kissable, I can’t help it.”
You stand from the small vanity seat and step away from the lighted mirror, turning to face him as you take a step backwards. When you’re sure you have all of his attention, you let the gown drop down your body, pooling at your feet. He reaches for your hand and helps you step out of it, mindful to not let your high heels catch on the delicate fabric.
“Almost wish I hadn’t had you change,” he hums, repeating his appreciative glances down your body. You had worn the lingerie on purpose, as a surprise for later, but you should’ve known he’d find a way to see it earlier than expected. Admittedly, wearing such a nice set of lingerie was a bit overkill, but it wasn’t every day your boyfriend received the honor of knighthood from the Queen. “I won’t be able to think of anything other than this. Would be a bit awkward getting all turned on in front of old Lizzie, don’t you think?”
You turn towards the closet, letting him have a lingering glance at your backside. “Calling the Queen old? On this, your day of honor? You should be a bit kinder to her, I think.”
He’s behind you suddenly, reflexes as fast as his cars, but he misses the sliver of mirror above the long raised counter that lets you see him coming. He leans his head in towards you again, taking a deep breath of your perfume. You can see the way his shoulders relax, the small smile it puts on his face. When he presses his body against yours, you can feel all of him.
“Should I call you ‘sir’ from now on?”
He nuzzles at your neck, a low chuckle vibrating between you. “Sounds so good coming from you. You can call me anything you want, baby, you know that.”
“I like sir. Sir Lewis Hamilton.”
He turns you around then, his lips seeking yours for a hot and dirty kiss. He’s smiling into your panting mouth when he pulls away, but it’s not his sweet and charming grin. It’s a devastatingly handsome, sexy smirk. “Bet it gets you wet.”
“Everything you do gets me wet.”
He wraps his hands around your waist and lifts you easily, perching you just on the edge of the marble counter. You lean back to adjust and he’s right there, occupying the space between your knees, gaze drifting from the dip of your cleavage to your barely-covered mound. “Prove it.”
“Lewis, we have to—”
“We will. Show me.”
You meet his eyes and accept the challenge, knowing he won’t relent until you give in. If it’s a show he wants, it’s a show he’ll get.
You start at your neck, where the necklace he’d gifted you long ago constantly sits, his initials resting aside your heartbeat. His smirk only grows when you bring attention to it, but he watches rapturously as your hand moves down, down past your collarbone and over the curve of the top of your breast. Your nipples pebble under the cool air, under your touch, under his gaze, and it’s almost enough to let you get completely distracted, totally lost, absolutely—
“Babe,” he whispers, pulling you from whatever space you’d been losing yourself in.
You toss him a smirk and continue the path down your torso, past the garter strap around your waist that is holding up your stockings, right to the lace-lined edge of your panties.
He’s not looking at your face anymore. His eyes are fixed on your fingers, and you see him inhale, get drunk on his reaction, when you finally dip them below the threads of elastic.
He can’t see what you’re doing. Can’t see the way you idly tease yourself for just a second, just like he would. He can’t see when you dip your fingers low to where you’re wettest, inserting just one slowly, but he can hear it.
You gasp as he groans, his head dipping between your bodies as he watches.
You give yourself a moment to relish it, enough to get you through the day, and then you pull your fingers away with a wet squelch, the kind of sound that you would’ve been embarrassed by before him.
You know the smell, your smell, one that he praises to Heaven and back, will linger on you all afternoon. It will be absolutely torturous for him and you adore it.
You hold your wet finger out, watching his eyes follow its every move. “Want a taste?”
He takes his turn teasing then, taking your finger between his lips and curling his tongue around it to suck. He’s obscene with it, showering your finger with the same attention he would pay to your pussy. What you wouldn’t give for five extra—
“Lewis!” Angela’s voice is loud and too-close in the large hotel suite. You wait any longer and she’ll barge in - it’s not the first time she’ll have found you like this - but today is a special day.
Lewis let’s your finger fall from his mouth with a pop, licking his lips as he stares you down. “Yeah Ange! Five minutes!”
His lips are on yours before you can hear her retort (there is one, there’s always one, and you’re as thankful for her as ever, for keeping him in line), his tongue sliding into your mouth to give you a taste of your own medicine.
He pulls away and lifts you from the counter, settling you on shaky legs as he smirks. He’s proud to know he’s affected you just as much as you do him. “Now let’s get you dressed. Do you need help with another zipper?”
here, you insatiable wenches; feast! i made it as vague as possible so you can pick your favorite topless wonder from the picture that blessed us earlier this morning.
i picked my own prompt from the list. here's #108: “If we get caught, I'm blaming you.”
---
He tugs you down onto the beach lounger, laughing as your limbs tangle together in the short journey towards the sand. He manages to cushion your fall, positioning your body on top of his, only grunting when your elbow solidly lands between two of his ribs.
“Oop, sor-,” you start, but he’s pulling you into a kiss too quickly, cutting off your apology.
His hands are hot on your skin as they rake up and down your sides, catching only on the thin straps of swimsuit material that crisscross your body.
“This is in the way,” he husks against your lips, dipping his fingertips under the material to pull it away from your skin for a moment before letting it snap back into place.
He grins against your temple when you shift to move up his body. You can feel him hard beneath you and you grow bold.
“Take it off then.” You breathe the suggestion into the still-damp seam of his neck and lean in to lick a stray droplet of seawater away. “If we get caught, I’ll just blame you.”
“Blame me? How could they blame me? Look at you. They would applaud me for being able to restrain myself.”
His fingers toy with the tie nestled against your spine and you hum at the feeling. "I dare you."
He inhales, the breath deep enough to lift you up and lower you down on his exhale. "Don't start something you won't finish."
"Who says I won't finish? You've always made sure that I do."
He groans, the sound deep in his chest, and suddenly, the tension in your suit strap is gone. "You should know better than to challenge me."
"Where's the fun in that?"
His hips rise into yours and the pressure of him against your core makes you gasp. It's almost embarrassing, how easy you are for him.
"Can I make you come like this?"
You aren't sure if he's asking if he can or if he's asking for permission. You nod your head yes either way, forehead bumping his muscled shoulder. As his hands settle on your hips to more easily maneuver you, yours grab for the damp fabric stuck between your chests, freeing it quickly and tossing it aside. Your nipples brush his chest as you angle your hips down to grind against him and he groans, the sound still too-loud on the nearly deserted beach.
"Someone's going to see you."
"Someone's going to see you," you bite back, already chasing the tendrils of an orgasm as it builds. Embarrassing.
His grip on your hips shifts, hands moving to allow his fingertips to bite into the sides of your ass, more leverage for you to take.
"Let them see," he all but growls, eyes focused on the flutter of your eyelashes against your cheek, the pulsing point of the vein in your throat. "Let them see that you're mine." He's entranced by the not-so-subtle way you ride him, here, on the beach, in the middle of the day, with reckless abandon. Like you won't be able to breathe until you've had him.
He understands the feeling.
It's the hitch in your breathing that gives you away then, the way your hips falter and he picks up seamlessly where your legs seemingly can't, using his strength to move your body against his in the way that he knows will have you gasping.
"Please," you whine, more to yourself - your body - than to him, and his tightening grip and grunt of agreement are all you need to shudder, coming undone in his hands. The orgasm leaves you reeling, breath coming in pants on the edge of a smile, limbs loose and limp above his. It's how he likes you best.
"My turn," he rumbles, and you nearly shriek with glee when he forces you over, his body long atop yours, his lips capturing the sound before it can escape.
#100! toto & seb competing together playfully for who can make you feel the best
#100 “Could he make you feel as good as I do?”
cath!! someone else requested dan for this one, but i’ll be honest - i’m feeling these two for it much more! i was inspired. this is honestly one of my favorites.
seb x reader x toto - as always let me know if something needs to be tagged!
Toto has your back to his chest, your legs splayed wide around his as he sits in the desk chair. His fingers toy with your cunt and you can feel yourself drip, surely making a mess of his chinos beneath you.
You whine when his hand disappears, too far gone into your own world to have heard the single knock at the door.
You leave your head resting on Toto’s shoulder as the visitor enters, confident that he wouldn’t expose you to anyone unless he wanted to.
“I can see you’re busy,” Sebastian starts, grin evident in his words.
Your eyes flutter open and your head raises, gaze landing on him. He’s sweaty and flushed, likely just in from a jog around the track. “Hi Seb,” you offer, watching as his gaze sweeps down your naked form.
“Hi sweetheart.”
“Sit back and let Sebastian and I talk for a minute, love.”
Toto’s hands rest easily on your thighs, fingertips tracing constant patterns. He and Seb begin a conversation in German and you let your head tip back again as your eyes fall closed. Their words lull you into a nice mindless space, one where you don’t even think about how you must look, spread open and draped upon Toto’s lap in his paddock office.
As he speaks, Toto continues to play with you like he has before, his fingers teasing along your slit, never letting you get to the point where your release is imminent, somehow only keeping you half-there.
Their conversation goes on until they both laugh heartily together, a comfortable silence settling between you after.
“You two look good together,” Seb says with admiration after a moment. There’s no jealousy in his words, just joy.
“She makes me look good,” Toto corrects him. He turns to press a kiss to your temple, bringing a blush to your cheeks. “She would look good with you too, you know.”
You crack your eyes open again to watch Seb, the corner of your mouth twitching up when the apples of his cheeks blush pink.
Toto turns to whisper in your ear, voice just loud enough for Sebastian to hear. “Do you think he could make you feel as good as I do?”
You level your gaze at Seb, admiring the way the sweat-soaked athletic shirt clings to his torso. “He could try,” you reply, watching as Seb’s grin turns wolfish, predatory.
Toto slides his hands to your knees and wraps around them, pulling them further open to show all of you off to the man standing before you. “He could,” Toto agrees, words soft in your ear, and you can feel him grin back in Seb’s direction. “Should we let him?”
You take a moment to consider before nodding and Seb steps forward.
“Angle her towards me,” he says to Toto as he kneels, almost ignoring you completely.
Toto shifts his hips and you move, your shoulder blades sliding down his chest as your hips slip forwards on his legs, toward Seb’s waiting mouth. Toto’s hands move back to grip your thighs, his own legs widening slightly to make room for Sebastian below you. “Look at him,” he urges quietly.
You lift your head and look down, finding the bright blue of Sebastian’s eyes staring right back at you, lips barely inches from your skin. He grins and his look is nothing less than feral.
“What a treat you are,” he utters, gaze dropping to your pussy. Toto pulls your legs wider apart and you gasp, heat flaring fast inside of you.
“I think she likes it,” Toto says, chuckling along with Seb.
“Is she always this good for you?” Sebastian brings his hands up to caress your folds, gently peeling back each set of lips until he’s staring right at you. “This wet?”
“She likes to obey me, but she likes to misbehave as well. I’ve had her here for a bit already,” Toto says, voice almost nonchalant, like he isn’t talking about you as though you aren’t naked, spread out upon his lap for Seb and anyone else to see, “so it may not take much.”
“You’re saying the first one is a freebie?”
Toto laughs and the rumble spreads through you like a wave. “Exactly. But don’t be too flattered, you know she’s always quick to cum.”
“I’ll go for three then. Just to prove my point.” He dives in immediately, as though you’ll be his last meal on earth, and you writhe against Toto as he easily works you up into a crashing orgasm. He works his tongue against you straight through it, unrelenting, and the only thing keeping you in place is Toto’s firm grip.
“Touch him,” Toto says, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking to you.
You lift a hand and bury it in Seb’s hair, using your grip to maneuver him to where you need him most. You give the strands of hair in your hand a firm tug and you feel him moan against you, an almost exasperated sound, and he doubles he efforts, causing your hand to go slack.
Toto laughs. “Now you’ve got her, Sebastian.”
Every muscle in your body tenses as your orgasm builds and Toto’s grip tightens on your legs. You cry out his name when you climax and he rides it out with you, more gentle this time, as he watches your face.
You pant between them, brow sweaty and skin clammy with the effort. Seb takes a moment to press a kiss to the inside of your thigh and you can feel your dampness on his lips.
“One more,” he whispers to all of you.
The build of a third orgasm takes longer but when Seb plunges two fingers in alongside his tongue and fucks you firmly, relentlessly, it hits you like a steam engine, your back bowing with an honest scream.
Seb noses against your skin as you come down from it, looking as though he’d like to go for a fourth, fifth, sixth even if Toto would let him. He settles for peppering any inch of you he can reach with sweet, soft kisses, barely-there brushes of his lips before he’s moving on to the next spot.
Eventually, Toto taps his shoulder and Seb sits back, staring at his handiwork - at you - for a long moment. Slowly, he climbs to his feet and leans in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek.
“What do you think? Was he as good as me?”
“I think,” you begin, still working to catch your breath, “I think further tests are in order.”
Toto looks at Sebastian. “That’s what she always says.”
“I know. Needy girl,” Seb says, addressing you with a smile.
“We’ll see you tonight?” Toto asks as Seb steps away towards the door.
Seb wipes his mouth with the hem of his shirt, the stain bright against the green. “I wouldn’t miss it. Bye sweetheart.”
You feebly raise a hand and they laugh. Seb’s parting words in German leave Toto chuckling as he gathers you in his arms and holds you close, tucking his warm rain jacket around your shivering frame.
“He said that he loves you,” Toto says quietly, fondly.
“I know.” Your eyes slide closed in bliss and sleep finds you quickly.
#140: "I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are."
Being loud had always been a problem for you.
It wasn’t your fault. Actually, you put all of the blame on Zak. And his hands. And his mouth. And his cock.
So it was on him when you lost control, and he loved every minute of it. He relished the opportunities to get you so turned on and so close to the edge that the only way to express your pleasure was through moans and shouts.
“I bet all our neighbors can hear you,” he says, his hips snapping forward again, forcing another groan from your lips. You can hear him smile through his words, “I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are.”
"They're miles away," you pant, almost certain you're correct. Zak had dragged you off to a small ski chalet to get away before the insanity surrounding the holidays. He wanted you both to enjoy the quiet of the mountains for the weekend, but the ways that he had kept his hands on your skin and his cock buried within you had resulted in anything but silence.
“Sound carries easily over the snow, sweetheart, you know that. Poor baby just can’t think straight when you’re stuffed full of cock, can you?”
“Can so—oh fuck, right there, please.” Your rebuttal is lost on the whine of your exclamation and Zak chuckles behind you. He bends over you and deepens the angle, his slow and methodical rhythm unchanging.
“Who’s dirty little slut are you?”
“Yours,” you respond immediately, core tightening at his words. You know what he’s going to say next and you feel yourself tighten around him in anticipation. “I’m your dirty little slut, daddy.”
“Gonna make you scream my name,” he says, moving up to thrust impossibly deep. You do yelp, a sound that surprises you, and it spurs him on. “Going to make them know you’re mine.”
