Thirteen vignettes to spell out a H.A.P.P.Y. B.I.R.T.H.D.A.Y. to Martin Freeman! I hope you all enjoy them :)
(Huge thanks to @rominatrix for her wonderful help proofreading my fic!)
R.
- His hands are on my hips, his body is pressing against mine, and his mouth… His mouth is everywhere. He presses gentle kisses along my neck until he reaches the curve of my breasts, and he stops there, so I take the opportunity to search for his mouth again. Martin nibbles my lower lip, that is now reddened and swollen, and then he licks it, with open kisses and the tip of his tongue repeatedly, slowly brushing over it, as if relieving the pain, as if healing it. I moan in the kiss, little needy noises muffled by his mouth. He laughs, smug and delighted, and I bite down, vengeful, on the tendon of his neck, making him squirm. I graze my teeth over the pulse in his throat, and I feel it quicken; I feel the change in the way his body is pressing, more demandingly, more firmly against mine. He kisses my mouth again, and then he carries his way down, trailing hot kisses below my ear, on my neck, on my cleavage. This time, he doesn’t stop.
- A suite. A tangle of white hotel sheets. Two glasses of wine. A toy on the bedside table and two, no, three condom wrappings on the floor. It’s 1 a.m., maybe later. Martin is sprawled on the bed, and I am fucking myself on his cock. Making little circles with my hips, I bring his hands from my hips to my breasts, and he hums appreciatively at how they fill his hands. I tease him: I got up on my knees, my thighs tense and hot from the effort, so that only the tip of his cock remains inside me, and then, slowly, agonizingly so, I sink down onto his shaft until I am fully seated again. Martin groans, hitching his hips up underneath me, and I plant my hands on his chest for balance, using the leverage to meet his thrusts. Soon, my fingernails are digging into his skin, and I feel my body spasm, clamping down on him hard, coming hard and deep and dark.
- Pleasure is a surface. It has its curves. It swells. It extends. It’s a territory. It goes from my ankles, around where Martin has shoved my panties down, to my waist, where he’s tugged my skirt up, over the curve of my ass. It’s diffuse when his hands are running up my thighs, onto my stomach and cupping my breasts. Pleasure is condensed when he enters me. When he presses his tongue flat against my clit. When he plunges two fingers into me and my hips buck against his hand. It’s a world, round and perfect and immense, when I come, and he comes right after me, and the spasms of his orgasm feel like I’m coming again.
- Pain is a line. A point. A mark. It has no dimensions, it’s a limit itself, as in a scale or a course: a melting point. A breaking point. With Martin, pain is an edge to ride. With no sharp ends, but the promise of something richer, rewarding, waiting to be earned. A stretch that burns until I adjust to his girth. A grip of silk, of leather or rope, bonding my wrists, my legs. A sharp slap, the sting on already sensitive skin and, like an undercurrent, the thrumming of something difficult to identify, that is firing up my nerves. Fingers pinching my nipples to hardness. My body starving, begging and then. Finally. Surrendering.
- You are so wet, he says. And then: Show me. I part my legs a bit further, giving him an excellent view from where he’s sitting, on the side of the bed. I slide my hand down over my stomach and back between my legs. I frame my swollen clit with my fingers, squeezing it briefly. My fingers are wet, so wet. “Jesus” he groans, slowly stroking his erection. “Now spread yourself open”. I feel my cheeks flush, my skin burn under his gaze. I obey. Martin gets closer to me, on his knees between my legs eagerly spread for him. He looks at me. His eyes have darkened noticeably. I want to ask, but I don’t need to. He licks his lips, and says: “I’m going to fuck you. Hard. Until you come on my cock.”
- Breath hot against the skin, Martin is whispering in my ear, and I can barely hear him over the sound of the music. We’re close to the stage, and around us, people are dancing, singing along, cheering. I can’t pay attention to the concert, because Martin’s body is pressed against my back, he’s whispering dirty promises, and trailing a hand up my thigh and under my tight skirt. He’s sliding his fingers under my thong, and I can’t move, I can’t even think, because he’s nipping my earlobe, nuzzling his nose behind my ear, and I’m melting against him. At this point, I’m soaked through my underwear, and his other hand has found its way under my backless top and to my breasts, and he’s pinching my nipples through the lacey bra I’m wearing beneath. I’m panting, moaning even, the noise muffled by the loud music, and I can feel, through the layers of fabric, his hard cock grinding against the curve of my ass. I drop my head back on his shoulder as he starts fucking me with his fingers. Martin kisses me roughly, nipping at my lower lip. Groaning, I rock my hips in time with his fingers. His cock is so hard against me, and I’d swear I feel it growing thicker with each roll of my hips. I can hear him perfectly this time when he breathes into my ear: “Perhaps we should go home.”
- I moan, pressing my forehead against the cool sheets. Martin leans closer to me, ghosting his lips over the back of my shoulder. “I’m going to need you to answer me,” he insists, his voice firm, merciless: “What do you want?”. I swallow hard, trying to lean into his body. “Please, Martin,” I whisper. “Please what?” “Please…” I can only moan and press back. He pulls me down against him, rubbing his cock between my thighs. I’m so wet, so tender and hot already, that the inside of my thighs are embarrassingly slick, and it makes it easy for him to start rubbing the tip of his cock through that wetness. “More,” I beg, arching my back, aching for him. “Ok” he says “But first. Tell me what you want”. I take a deep breath and let my forehead rest on the bed again. My voice sounds small and unsteady when I finally answer: “I want you to fuck me… in the ass.” Martin’s growl feels like a victory.
- Red lips are the last touch before I put on high heels and I make what, judging by Martin’s face, must have been a spectacular entrance in the bedroom. I’m wearing a red satin bustier that wraps my body tightly and barely covers my breasts, and a matching pair of tiny panties, with a garter and delicate stockings that reach the middle of my thighs. I move unhurriedly, every motion intended to tease and taunt him, until I’m standing right next to him. He has his back on the wall. He looks hungry. His hands graze my ribs as he teases me with small, soft touches, but I take his hands by the wrists and gently place them on both sides of his hips, against the wall. Then, I slowly sink to my knees, brushing my body against his, and he sucks in a sharp breath when my breasts drags across his cock, that is pressing painfully against his underwear. I free it, and I hum with delight when I see that the tip is already damp with precum. I lick my lips and brush the head against my mouth. I curve my tongue around his cock, lapping at its underside, carefully taking in a little bit more with each downstroke, until finally my nose is pressed into the coarse hair at his groin and the head of his cock is bumping against the back of my throat. Martin is groaning, and I hear the soft thud of the back of his head touching the wall. Under the palms of my hands I can feel his thighs tense with the effort of not thrusting into my mouth, so I let my hands fall, and he takes the hint. He looks at me, on my knees and pliant to his will, my mouth ripe and ready for him. Hesitantly at first, he starts fucking my mouth, until his thighs are trembling, and he cries out as the first spasm of his orgasm rips through him. He’s coming into my mouth, and I suck eagerly, swallowing every drop down, as he watches me, heavy lidded, only able to breathe a faint “Jesus.”
- The phone buzzes on my bedside table. I know it’s him, and I know, as soon as I hear his voice, what kind of phone call it’s going to be. I stretch on the bed, my pulse already speeding up, my right hand trailing down my body. I ask: “What are you doing?,” and Martin’s voice is husky when he replies, not missing a bit: “Stroking my cock and thinking about you.” I swallow a groan, and my hand is already between my legs when I ask: “And what are you thinking?” He makes an amused noise, halfway between a laugh and a sigh, and says: “That you’re riding me and I’m playing with your tits.” I buckle against my hand and I can’t suppress a moan. “Mhm. You like that, watching me when I’m on top of you…?” He makes an affirmative noise, and I can hear a hiss, the rhythm of wet friction speeding up, so I keep going: “You like watching how my boobs bounce when I start riding you hard…” He groans, the sound rich and hot in my ear, and I start to rub my clit with two fingers, turning myself on too as I speak: “I like you watching me. And I like when you roll my nipples between your fingers, and I squeeze your cock tiGHt inside me…” We both moan and I bring my now soaked fingers up to my breasts, mimicking the actions I’m describing, squeezing my thighs together as I feel myself already fluttering. He speaks then, and his voice sounds hoarse, a low rumble that makes me shiver with anticipation: “Are you wet for me?” I arch my back and I have to open my legs again or I’ll just come. “Can’t you hear?,” I purr, getting my phone close to my hip, and sliding my fingers lower, in and out, the noise loud and obscene. When I bring the phone back to my ear I can hear him cursing, the sound of the bed squeaking. I’m so close, and I know he is too. I keep rubbing my clit but it’s not enough, I need him, and I whisper, to him and to myself: “Martin, I need your cock, I need your cock stretching me open.” I hear his shuddery “Fuck” and then I’m coming with him, two fingers inside me, the heel of my hand pressing on my clit, and a slippery mess between my thighs, soaking the sheets.
- He buries his face between my legs and I moan breathlessly, feeling my clit swollen and hard against his tongue. He wraps his lips around it, sucking gently for a second before flickering the very tip of his tongue against it. He has turned me into a trembling mess, I’m melting on the bed, soft moans that get louder when Martin starts fucking me with his tongue. My thighs are quivering over his shoulders and my toes curl against the sheets as his tongue goes deeper, as he rubs his wet thumb against my asshole. He then goes back to focus on my clit, licking slow swirls around it, occasionally dipping further, and when he shoves two fingers inside me, I buck against his mouth, I’m gasping and shuddering, already fluttering around his fingers. A few more firm licks of his tongue, and I’m convulsing, my body trapped between his mouth and the mattress, coming with a wet, throaty moan.
- Deep inside me, Martin has picked up a pace that’s making me crazy. The skirt of my dress has ridden up when I straddled him, and he slides his hands down to grab two handfuls of my ass, pulling me firmly against his lap. I roll my hips, grinding against him, moaning his name, and his hands grip me possessively, holding me as he takes control of my movements. This is an urgent fuck, and we are still fully dressed, too horny and too desperate to bother to take off our clothes. Martin is wearing that white shirt that fits him so well, and he has simply opened the fly of his trousers after I urged him towards the closest armchair. He then has shoved aside the top of my dress to reveal my breasts and, not bothering to remove my underwear, he has tugged to one side the flimsy material that was soaked and clinging to my skin. When he sinks into me, already slick, hot and ready, I sigh with relief, like finally getting a way to scratch a consuming itch. I feel full, and breathless, and I clutch at his shoulders when he starts pounding into my body, my breasts bobbing, my skin damp with sweat. He’s sweating too; I can feel the hair at the nape of his neck curled and wet, and he’s panting, I’m tightening on his cock, and I can feel he’s getting close, as I am, my orgasm building up steadily, curling inside and making me arch my back, and when he comes with a sharp yell, I’m coming too, shuddering against his body.
- As soon as I hear the bathroom door opening, I know Martin is going to join me in the shower. And I know, too, that is going to be a long one. I welcome him with a kiss, and soon he’s sweeping my wet hair over my left shoulder, leaving my neck exposed for his mouth. He licks a path along my shoulder that makes me shudder even under the hot water spray, and I can feel his smile against my skin. The air smells of soap and shampoo, and everything feels quiet and intimate. I whimper softly as Martin traces the shell of my ear with his tongue. He turns me around and pins me against the tile wall; it feels shockingly cool against my heated skin, and I gasp, and then I do it again, louder, deeper, when Martin pushes his cock inside of me, his hips pressed against my ass, my fingernails digging into his forearms when he braces them on the wall on either side of my head. He fucks me hard but viciously slow, angling his hips so that each thrust pounds against me in the most dirty, perfect way. When I come, my cry echoes off the bathroom walls, and it’s glorious.
- Yes, godd-d yea ah, oh… oh godDTHere, right there, that feels… that feels amazinHnmfgh-a- ah ah ahh- h… “Like that?” Martin asks, scraping his teeth over the curve of my neck. “Uh-huh… don’T stop, yes, Yes. Righ-h-tt. ThEre”. He chuckles and speeds up, deeper, longer thrusts, at the same time increasing the pressure of his thumb on my clit, and I can only let out a shaky breath and roll my hips, encouraging him to fuck me harder, fucking myself on his thick cock, while his other hand is grabbing one of my breasts, that feels heavy and hot on his hand, and when he starts dragging his thumb over a sensitive nipple I screAM and I’m clenching hard on his cock, so hard and big inside me- fUK C, I can feel myself on the edge of coming and I’m making soft, little desperate noises in the back of my throat, the sound muffled by his fingers in my mouth, that I lick clean, tasting myself on them, and then he bites H a R D on my neck and I m-, I mMo a –a- A .N !f-fuck, , Mmm A r -T i N –o H m- ah- gmfgh im COM i Ng- aHm a a AH , .