Summary: Henry takes you to his hometown but, you become slightly jealous of the attention he recieves. Please do not repost my fics without my permission but, we always love a reblog ! Inbox& Requests always open!
You stepped into the hotel room, immediately taking off your jacket and throwing your purse to the floor.
"What the fuck Henry?" you asked as you whirled around to face him. The beach day date of his hometown was his thing, it was supposed to be planned so that the two of you could finally spend some free time together. But, the entire day had ended up with Henry signing autograph after autograph; being hit on by a waitress here, asked out by a bartender there, and he's just taking it as though it is completely normal. You had spent so much time choosing your outfit, ordering clothes for the weekend. It had been so weird to be in his hometown. His parents had been entirely shocked Henry even wanted to come visit home again.They were on a vacation somewhere, Henry spared no expense on their travel it was the one thing the job actually made easier. He was used to the money being able to satiate everyone else in his life, that when it failed to impress you, he had no idea how to go from there. It shocked you how thoroughly and completely he had outweighed telling you what he's feeling. The one thing you wanted more than anything was for Henry to let you in. To just explain his emotions and say what he was thinking. The brooding charm was sexy, and it had no doubt gotten you home from the club that night. But, as boyfriend material he was wearing you thin.
"Why can't we just get one moment together?Or does that not matter to you anymore? We came on this trip in an attempt to be together yet the whole time we have never actually been together. In Fact, I think I've spent more time in your apartment during filming than at your actual home. I'm trying to get to know you Henry, I am but I can't do it if you're constantly flaunting yourself for people.”
"Flaunting?"he asks " You wanted to see my first job, I took you there.That wasn't flaunting.That was me trying to let you in, and the second the waitress compliments me you get upset."
"Compliment!..... Henry? Compliment?Fucking really ? She told you she and the other waitresses had a bet on how big your dick is!" you exclaimed, sitting down at the edge of the bed, partially running a hand through your hair .
"Yeah but I didn't tell them !" he fired back "Look, (y/n) I am trying here. You have to meet me halfway.This is what people are like around me. I want this to work , I -I want this to be something " He slowed his speech down looking directly into your eyes,so piercingly blue. " I also need you to promise me that you're going to try. I-darling I need you to try." he kneeled on the floor in front of you, grabbing your hands and forcing you to look into his eyes. His eyes pierced your soul, he always knew what to say to keep you from walking away. You sighed,removing your hands from his, finally committing to taking down your ponytail and letting your curls frame your face.
"You are beautiful. I'm sorry people reminded me more today of that than they did of you, you need to hear it just as much, if not twice. You deserve it......Everything about being with you makes me feel lucky."
You looked down at him and took notice of the fact that you usually never looked down on him. Seeing the top of his head was a virtue. He was being vulnerable. You also noted the cologne he had on, not overtly strong but,enough of a scent for you to notice. His eyes looked strong, so serious and eager to please you. You gently leaned in and kissed him. You laughed as you felt him smile into your kiss. He reached a hand up cradling the back of your head over your hair, his thumb caressing your cheek. He steadies you, leaning further in. You felt safe, in this room in your little love cocoon. The salty smell of the sea water wafted through the window and you hated yourself for ruining what was meant to be a beautiful time.Waves of emotion washed over you as you inhaled him deeply.
"So you like to argue don't you?" you felt Henry's smile turn into a smirk as he ran his other hand along the up the curve of your thigh, to the edge of your shirt. He played with the hem of the shirt denying you the contact he knew you desperately craved. You pushed your hips further in, closer to him and he exhaled into you. You knew he could feel the heat reverberating from your core, and you were sure his jeans were tightening by the minute. Hooking an arm around his neck you pulled yourself up and into him. He situates his hand on the side of your face slowly dipping his thumb into your mouth. You pull off his baseball cap and toss it behind you. So much for him being disguised during the date. You couldn't get away from the fact that seeing that passion from him, that honesty had moved you.On the other hand he was an actor, that's what they were supposed to do right? say the right thing?
"You know, next time instead of getting jealous" he mumbled in between kisses you could just tell me to follow you to the bathroom. I could be extra loud when I cum too, so they know I belong to you." he lifted you up by your ass and threw you onto the bed.
"aren't you always extra loud when you cum?" You asked wriggling out of your vest and shirt beneath him.
"Isn't that what you like?" he retorts, trying to ignore the fact that he was slightly stuck inside his shirt. Yes he was perfect at saying the right thing but, he was still a person,still real, still riddled with insecurities like anyone else. It just didn't help that the rest of the world rarely saw it. That first night you met he had stood near you in the club for a little shy of an hour before saying anything at all.
He tugs harder on his shirt and you watch as the stretch makes the muscles in his sides more visible, the outline of his ribs below the expanse of hair on his chest that you had never particularly been into, yet on him seemed masculine and mature. Trailing down to the V. His abs and hips meeting in this perfection of symmetrical musculature was enough for you to understand why any woman would swoon at the thought of him entering a diner and crossing his toned legs at the table even with a baseball cap pulled over his eyes.
"Now you're getting shy." He jests at the fact that you had not answered his question but proceeded to take him in.
"Tell daddy what you want." he encouraged, his voice barely a whisper. God, when he said things like that, it made you unable to respond. So, you decided not to,grabbing his hand and moving it down into your sweatpants, to your core pressing it hard against your clit. He began to move his hand slowly as he smiled down at you; The smile lines at the corner of his mouth, playing games with your heart.
"Is that it then ? You just want me to touch you?" his warm hand inched lower and you could feel him lightly dip a finger into you. You moan to your own surprise, andhe immediately removes it. You watch his face, intent and you're slightly embarrassed by the attention, but it's enough just knowing that he wanted to be inside of you, any part of him. You buck your hips up to him in an effort to convince him to finger you again but, to no avail.
"Unnnhhh.No. sweetheart I said tell me " he says shaking his head.
Your voice comes out shakily and much smaller than expected.
" I want- I want you to make me cum." you say breathlessly
"What else?" he leans in , his face turning hard and stoic.
"I want you to degrade me, to use me." He breaks into a full smile now, wide and you exhale loudly as he forces two fingers back inside of you. He chuckles at the noise you make, knowing full well what he's doing to you.
"You want me to use you like a toy because you're a whore." He says matter of factly, picking up speed between your legs.
"You're so wet just thinking of me using you, aren't you princess?" he growls into your ear.God he was really going for it today, and you were loving every minute of it.
"You're so needy already I didn't even get a chance to fuck you." he chuckles and you feel his palm shift right onto your clit.
You manage to whisper "Right there" knowing full well it may be the only instruction you are allowed to give for the rest of the day. But,he doesn't move his hand.
"You like that pressure on your little clit don't you baby?" he asks. You look up at him pleadingly, eyes begging for him to allow you to have this orgasm. "Come for me then, go ahead" he says lifting his eyebrow. You look down at his hand buried inside you under your sweatpants and begin moving your hips faster.
"Come on Daddy's hand since you want to come so bad." he mocks , you buck onto his hands, knowing you are close. You let out a small whine and you can see as his blue pupils blow out with lust. More whimpers come and before you know it you are releasing all over his hand, breathing into his mouth .
"That's my fucking girl." he smiles broadly looking down at you. You cover your eyes with your forearm, embarrassed to know that he had watched your face the entire time.
"You are so beautiful right now." he says as you manage to break into a slight smile, still refusing to make eye contact. You feel the weight on the bed shift as he moves. When you finally remove your arm , you see him at the foot of the bed. Somehow, he had found his hat and he tugs it on as he reaches for his phone on the hotel table.
"What are you doing?" you ask
"O nooow you want to talk to me." he chuckles as you roll your eyes "I'm getting room service for us so we don't have to go anywhere. It's just going to be you and me, like it should've been."
You sit up in bed promptly "Well, I still want to know about this place! What you did, what you liked, what you learned in your hometown."
"This is what I learned, " he says, gesturing to the bed."This is what I'm good at."
"Please, Henry you're good at more than just sex."
"Am I ? My agent isn't exactly having the easiest time right now." he says slumping on the edge of the bed.
"Hey- we both have shit that we could think of all weekend to make us pissed life isn't going our way...or- or we could say fuck it , and enjoy this bit of time we have together because we don't know when it's going to happen again. "
"I'm sorry- I'm sorry sweetheart." he smiles.
"You're forgiven. Now, " you say moving yourself forward and crawling towards him on the bed. "It's your turn" reaching for his belt buckle. He immediately lays back, ready for you to do whatever you wanted with him. Maybe this trip wasn't going to be such a bust after all.
a little post from my tik tok in regards to people talking about Natalie (Henry Cavill’s gf) and thinking they have the right to bash her appearance and be disgustingly horrible to her.
need i remind you he’s a celebrity and to get over yourself, he’s not in a relationship with you and definitely never would be if he knew you were saying shit like this.
it’s the same bullshit that happened with Chris Evans and Jenny Slate, everyone told her she was ugly, not worth his love, and she spiralled mentally because of it.
THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS SO STAY OUT OF IT.
i’m honestly disgusted at the comments i’ve seen about Natalie and it breaks my heart as a fellow medium size/plus size girl, we can never fucking win.
Henry Cavill Imagine-If He was YOUR Fan 3: Good Night, Good Day
It is pre-dawn.
Henry insists on driving you to where you’re staying in London on one of his motorcycles. It is nice to cruise the semi-deserted streets of London. You had fallen asleep after playing Witcher 3 and Cleopatra while watching Doctor Who. He takes off his helmet as you take off yours.
“So you’re at the Palmer’s Lodge,” he says, pulling up in front.
“Yeah,” you say with a smile, sliding off the bike. You can’t resist letting your hands slide over his torso, feeling your cheeks heat. “It’s so damned British, I couldn’t resist.”
“This is a hostel,” He seems to be assessing the place. “Like a dormitory?”
“Right,” you nod, putting your hands behind your back sweetly. “which means if you come upstairs I’ll be in big trouble.”
You both laugh at that, feeling like a couple of kids who stayed out too late. Well, at least you did.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
You realize that he is probably wondering why you aren’t at a hotel. “Staying here is an experience,” you say. “I meet different people from different places, write and relax in a creative environment, and well, it’s affordable, you know?” You feel a little self conscious about that, but it was the only way to make it there and meet him. “It’s actually very safe and friendly here.”
He slides off the bike, surprising you by the look in his eyes, the set of his jaw. He is up to something. You feel your heart flutter as he steps directly in front of you. “I’ll be in touch.”
“How can you be in touch—”
“You really shouldn’t open your phone in front of people,” he purrs shaking his head, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You never know who’s watching for your code.”
You swallow hard, but can’t help but smile at him shyly. “I’ll have to remember that.”
“I put myself in as Dal.”
“Ah, your middle name.”
“Yes,” He nods, his eyes warm and inviting as he looks down at you.
“Thanks, I had fun.” You’re breathless, damn it, you’re breathless! Stop it, just stop, you try to tell yourself, but how can you say it’s been awhile since you had so much fun or how long it’s been, period? You simply can’t.
“I should be thanking you,” his voice is smooth and soft as he puts his hands behind his back mirroring you. “I guess, in proper fashion, keeping you out so late, I should do that last thing that seals your fate.”
“Wha—”
His lips come down on yours, soft in texture, but firm in pressure. Your mind reels, and you feel your knees buckle. His arm goes around your waist as he holds you closer, coaxing your mouth to open wider with small nibbles on your lips, particularly the lower one. A small moan escapes you and his other arm captures your body as his tongue gently surges into your mouth.
Locked in his embrace you dimly realize that your arms have gone around his neck. Your face tilts up to him like a flower in need of rain and you suck his tongue when he almost withdraws. He moans softly, continuing the kiss, the sound tantalizing your nerves and vibrating of his chest making you tremble slightly and causing a wave of heat to overtake you. You arch to his body as his lips brush your jawline and you instinctively rake his back under his jacket.
Suddenly you hear the door to the place open and you both break the kiss.
“You’d better go,” you say shakily, your hands sliding down his chest.
You see his breathing is faster, his jaw slightly tight as if he doesn’t want to go. “Yeah.” He presses his lips against yours once more. “I’ll be in touch, alright?”
“Alright,” you echo breathlessly, feeling a chill as he steps away from you slowly. You don’t want to believe that, but suddenly you felt like that kid at Christmas waiting for Santa Claus. “Okay.”
He slips on his sunglasses and puts on his helmet. He slides on his bike, gives you one last look and starts his motor, then revs off down the street.
You turn to see women approach you, one of them an Irish artist named Hannah, who is a Cavill fan. You flinch as her eyes zero in on yours. The other is Stella, who is backpacking across the country from Germany.
“Hey, that guy looked like Henry Cavill!” Hannah says, wide-eyed. “That was him, I know it!”
“A look-alike,” you say quickly. “Met him at the con.”
“Does he look like him, really like him?” Stella asks.
“Oh, he’ll do,” you shrug.
“How did you meet him?” Hannah asks almost accusingly.
You shake your head and shrug. “Serendipity.”
“No walk with us today, then?” Stella asks, but Hannah is studying you for tells.
“No, definitely not,” you laugh, hoping you aren’t looking as nervous as you feel. “Maybe later, though.” You start up the steps. “Good night-uh, morning, ladies.”
You share a laugh and you head inside, yawning. With an eye roll at the front desk you put your mask on, an appropriate ending to a fantastical night. You check your watch. You must have slept a couple of hours at Henry’s. You remember awakening on the floor with his arm around you. You remember how it seemed his stubble had gotten thicker overnight, how long his lashes unfairly are, the fullness of his lips and that they are just slightly open as he sleeps. His body is warmth against the air conditioning, and that is welcome since you get cold easily.
You head to your room. You see that a few bunks out of the six in your room are indeed empty, meaning it’s just you, Stella and Hannah now. You take a shower and get into bed, opting to sleep till almost the end of breakfast time before you get up to go eat at the last minute.
Done with a late breakfast, you don’t feel like going out. You feel like reliving what happened in the last twenty four hours. You feel like journaling about it, but you’re a little scared to. You want to protect the experience from everyone. You want to just keep it near and dear to you, yourself. You spend the afternoon working on your stories and poetry, and even answered some emails and messages.
Did Henry feel anything?
You suddenly get a text from the front desk asking you to come down. Your heart races as you make your way there. Upon arriving you see a messenger with a beautiful floral arrangement. “Hey!”
You look to see one of the hostel employees nod to you, “Hey!” he smiles and glances the messenger. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer!”
“If you would just sign here, ma’am?” the messenger says politely, handing over the clipboard.
“Thank you—"
“You’re welcome, miss, and this is yours as well,” the messenger nods handing you an envelope.
“Oh, okay, thanks again.” You tip him and he leaves.
“Your mission should you choose to accept it?” the front desk guy teases.
Your head snaps up, and you realize he has no idea who sent it, that he was just cracking a joke. “Well, I’d better read it before it starts catching fire.” You put the envelope and vase on top of your laptop and carry it out to the courtyard.
You look at the arrangement. Henry had been listening when they walked from the car to Godfrey’s yesterday. You went by a flower shop and you commented on how beautiful the tiger lilies and spring bouquets looked. He laughed when you told him roses were overrated, but nice.
With somewhat shaky hands you open the envelope. It’s a job description for a junior assistant to an assistant for a movie. Your breath catches. No…! Unbelievable! You open your laptop right away, and go to the site to apply, updating your resume before you submit it. You might even get it. You’ve worked as an executive assistant and office manager in the past. You just might get it. This is supposed to be a vacation. You were supposed to stay here, see if you could get to Paris, get back, and go home in a week or so. But now…
“Serendipity,” you whisper to yourself.
You look at the flowers again and notice the card. You take the small envelope and open it. You smile at the handwritten message.
Thinking of you, Dal.
You text him. Thanks for the flowers and for the heads up, I applied.
As you pick them up and sniff them, your phone howls! All you see is one word.
Luna IV, Chapter 4: Dinner and Dessert (Cavill Syverson Fanfic)
You take your time cooking. You investigate the kitchen slowly as you go, giving yourself time to acclimate and hopefully get a better grip on your feelings. You can hear Sy stirring about the house, though you don't know what he is doing or where he is inside it, for that matter. You take deep breaths to soothe your nerves, allowing the smell of food to relax you and waft through the house. You are suddenly thankful you spent time with the cook growing up; you can make a meal for two or for a party.
Tears fill your eyes. You never dreamed your imprisonment would be this way. You are ready to fight other women. You are ready to protect poor soul like Gabrielle. You are ready to be in solitary confinement. You are ready for a lot of things, but not this. You simply are not ready for him, your private jailer, your private warden to “train” you.
You assessed Sy even as you bucked against him earlier. He is not a violent man, at least, not toward women. He is a no-nonsense man; you smile, noting your warden's similarity to your father, missing him so, but immediately steel the warm feeling that comes with it. Sy is shorter than your father, smaller, but he looks just as strong...perhaps because he is younger.
You didn't miss that body—Sy looks battle ready even if he hasn't seen it in some time. His eyes are very blue, and you watched the tint change with his mood-steel calm, glints of gray with concern, electric blue when he was lighthearted, a storm at sea when he takes you...stop it, you tell yourself. Don’t drown in those eyes, just learn to interpret them so you can find ways around them, you tell yourself, no matter how beautiful you think they are... That stupid system you hate had picked your jailer, and you have to mentally give them credit: They picked right.
You are plating food as Sy enters the kitchen, reminding you of a beast led by his nose. He stands behind and almost over you as you go about your task, seemingly inhaling the meal that promises to be delicious, but you feel like he is also sniffing your hair.
“Jasmine?” he murmurs.
“What?”
He shakes his head, and swallows hard. “Nothing.”
Your whole body tingles with awareness. He was sniffing your hair. They allowed you to pick your scented soap, which you thought was ridiculous, but now makes sense. And he was right-you used jasmine…and he likes it.
He sits down and looks at the food as you bring it to him. “You can cook.”
“My father had a chef.”
“This will be quite a pleasure then,” he says, still looking at the food. “I have not had a trainee in some time. I am usually in charge of the others to make sure they are not abusive, but they asked me to take you on.”
You have nothing to say to that. You go to the cooling unit and see quite a few choices to accompany the main course. You turn and put your hands behind your back in “at ease” position. “What would you like with this?”
He recognizes the military stance, and tenses.
That’s right, you got more than you bargained for, you tell him with your eyes. You don’t know who you’re fucking with.
His gaze roves over your body and again, the sets the unwanted sensual tension between you. You lift your chin, telling yourself not to care, and await his answer. "I don't care, really."
"May I suggest you eat first, and wait a little on drinking?" you ask as you turn to the cooling unit to make a selection.
"To speed my digestion."
You turn with a fruity but light wine. "Yes."
He smiles slowly. "Thank you, I'll take your suggestion." He gestures for you to sit.
You warily do so, hoping to eat alone, but now you realize he expects you to eat with him. Your gazes lock, neither taking eyes off the other. You realize he is going to be the most formidable opponent you’ve ever had in your life, mostly because he is compatible with you. You work to not allow your gaze to waver. This was a staring contest, but he is already playing dirty, allowing his eyes to smolder as if he has more on his mind than food. A small smirk crosses his features and you realize the flush of your cheeks might have been visible. Damn!
He lifts the plate to rotate and sniff it. He gives you a look of approval that doesn't surprise you and takes his first forkful. The food melts in his mouth and he closes his eyes for a moment to enjoy it, then opens his eyes and frowns. "Where is your plate?"
"I can eat now?"
He suppresses a chuckle at your sarcastic tone, and you are disappointed that he is not easily irritated. "Of course. I'm no brute." You do not move, and he whispers your name to make you lock eyes with him again. “I’m not.”
That remains to be seen, your glare tells him. Maybe if you stay this way, watch him eat, you will eat alone--
"If you didn't make enough, I will share with you."
Your eyebrows rise at that.
"Yes, I think that's a good idea," he smiles, seeing your discomfort.
You take a deep breath, and close your eyes briefly. He is amused at your struggle to control your temper. You have been trying to prick his and got nothing but amusement from him. Your words are slow and measured: "I assure you—"
“I don’t mind feeding you, pet.” He voice is smooth, seductive, letting the double meaning sink in fully. “Not at all.”
You go and get your plate, almost slamming the platter down, but slowing just as it touches the table. You sit and look up at him, burning with frustration. He had won this round. He raises his fork in salute and you begin eating.
He keeps looking at you as if he wants to say something, ask something, but doesn’t. He is giving you time to adjust and you wish he’d get on with it, give you reason to hate him. "I want you to know that I am not a cruel man, and have never been a cruel warden. I meant what I said: you will determine how difficult things get."
You tense. This whole system is bullshit, you want to tell him.
He doesn’t miss your expression and takes a deep breath as you avert your eyes. "What is it?"
"That may be true, but you are part of a cruel system."
"That may be true, but you killed someone."
Your head snaps up, your eyes sparking. He looks like he wished he hadn’t said that, but he made that mistake-his first. "One that you know of." You swallow hard; there was no victory in that.
He takes a napkin and dabs at the corner of your eyes and you snatch it, angry at yourself for one drop of emotion escaping you. "I realize you seem to have deep seated anger—"
"Seem?" You laugh, but now you feel floodgates threatening to open. The death of your father, being under scrutiny, having everything taken from you, being offered like a piece of meat to a man you barely know and don’t want, only to be convicted for not allowing him to claim you, being humiliated, convicted, jailed. NO! He is part of that system, you tell yourself. You look at the plate, and drop your fork.
"What?"
"I'm not hungry."
"You must eat," he says softly, slowing his eating with concern in his eyes. "You have not eaten in over twelve hours."
"I am not hungry," she smile with a sneer, your voice a whisper. You don’t care if the tears are in your eyes.
He sighs heavily and avert his eyes, only to raise them to you again, his expression soft and pleading. "Please...I want you to stay as healthy as you are now."
Your smile fades. You are conditioned for certain kinds of combat, of punishment, but not kindness.
He pours you a small glass of wine, and leans closer. "Please."
He watches and waits for your reaction. You were going to fight him and the moons?! If he came any closer, it wouldn't be just food you would have to try to fight your desire for. You pick up your fork again, and avert your eyes.
“Thank you.”
Sy finishes his dinner, and you expect him to get up and leave.
He doesn’t.
He watches you eat.
You are nervous, and your stomach probably can't take more than a little at a time right now. Every time you take a bite, he licks his lips. Every time you drink, he stares at your body in building appreciation and lust. You become a bundle of nerves under his gaze. When you finally finish eating, he drinks the last of his wine, and rises from his chair. You exhale heavily, thinking he was going to walk by you but he grabs your wrist, and leads you back to the lounger.
He settles you back against the pillows, taking the dress off you again. "That was delicious."
You squirm under him, unsure if you are trying to get closer or find the chance to escape.
"I trust you can make desserts...with the same skill?" He begins kissing the hollow of her throat, and murmurs your name, urging you to answer.
"Y-yes,” you breathe, the sound of your name from his lips stroking your nerves in a delicious way.
"Good." With that, he kisses you slowly, and you both release a small sigh of pleasure at tasting wine in each other's mouths. He lowers his head to your breasts, gently taking turns on suckling each as he thrusts his fingers inside you, making you gasp and whimper at how wet and ready you are for him, how the ache leapt within you and spread. He uses a slow rhythm on you, calming you yet helping you learn to revel in the satisfaction he can give you. You arch and gasp as your wetness flows over his fingers. "Good..." He lowers his head between your legs, his fingers still in place, and works you again, his fingers thrusting in a slightly faster rhythm as his tongue sucks and laps at you.
You pant and twist, clawing at the pillows around you. He reaches up with his free hand and brings your hand to the back of his head slowly, and you bring the other down to him, cradling and caressing his head as your hips come off the lounger. He moans in response to your cries drinking you as you feel lightheaded. Finally he climbs over you and thrusts into you again. You arch to him, reveling in how he stretches and fills you, and your body instinctively clasps to him as he begins a hard quick rhythm that would satisfy you both.
He begins pounding harder as your body yields everything to him and he holds you in place. Your arms and legs embrace him as you scream. He keeps his piston-like rhythm going, and you pulsate around him uncontrollably as your head fall backs back feeling his seed heat and coat your inner walls as he growls in your ear and then bites your neck softly, drawing small tremors from you.
Sy picks you up, and carries you to bed. He lays you down on your side and positions himself behind you, his hands stroking your limbs to soothe you. "Sleep now," He purrs, kissing your hair. "rest." You want to stay awake to spite him but with all the events of the day, sleep takes you in minutes.He could tell she wanted to stay awake, but with all the events of the day, sleep takes you in minutes.
Let me know if you want to be tagged for this story! Thanks.
Oh it’s been a hot minute since I published anything and I’m back with a bang. This is based on a thought I had while looking at this post (X) about Hensplaining... I was highly encouraged to continue those sinful thoughts and here we are 😈
Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (You)
Warnings: hand kink, spanking, a little primal play, fingering, thigh riding, ruined orgasm.
Gif by the wonderful @wolvesandhoundshowltogether
Princess, are you paying attention?
Good.
You’ve got until I get to one.
5…
He just had the kind of hands that made your mouth go dry and your heart beat faster.
Henry, the skilled actor and study of a character, picked up on it before you even voiced the thoughts to yourself.
And he wanted to play.
So the next time Henry was on the clock with you, chatting to the press, he had a plan.
He started with just lingering touches, fiddling with your watch strap, adjusting your dress for you. He knew you couldn't take your eyes off him when he was dressed to the nines and found it cute that you loved to watch him talk about his career.
You stood next to him, as he explained about how excited he was that another DC movie was up for an award this year. You could listen to his passionate explanations for hours but right now nothing was making it past the pounding in your ears. Your brain had gone from attentive partner to horny teenager as you considered for the first time that you might just have a little obsession with his hands.
Heat flooded your gut as you considered what those hands could and had done to you. You bit your lip as you tried to reign in your thoughts, desperately wishing that the interview was over so you could do something, anything about the gnawing ache threatening to consume you.
You caught his eye as he mentioned the support his family had given him in his career. His eyes appeared to sparkle with joy but you knew him better than that. That look was one reserved for you and you alone.
Oh. He didn't just do that with his hands did he? No, it had to have been an accident that his huge hands made that kind of gesture that set you alight like a flint on a campfire.
He turned his attention back to the reporter and his elaborate hand gestures slowed down.The air felt heavy with anticipation as you followed the movements of each finger and palm as they spoke to the blooming lust between your legs. As one palm slid over the other, you could almost feel the friction from his palms, as if they were rubbing against your soul. Lighting up all the nerves on your skin from within, washing your body with a fever that left you weak.
You barely contained your whimper as his hands clapped together. Your pussy clenched in automatic response to the sound of skin on skin, desperately wishing it was his skin on yours. The echoes of the contact between his palms still reverberated in your ears as the interview came to a close. You let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, both thanking the reporter and moving onto the next thing in the press junket.
His warm hand slid around your waist as he led you away from the reporter. He lent down to whisper in your ear just as it was your turn in front of the flashing lights.
“Just warming up my hands for later.”
4...
The semi-darkness provided some relief for your flushed face as you found your seats. Henry pulled out your chair for you, tucking you in as you sat. His hand brushed against your bare neck as he scooped your hair over your shoulder to prevent you destroying your beautifully coiffed hair. You smiled up at him but it became fixed as you watched him, your mind wandering elsewhere.
His sinfully long fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket, as he shucked it off his shoulders and placed it gently on the back of his chair. You noticed the tendons in his hands moving over the knuckles as he manoeuvred himself into the seat next to you.
You swallowed and turned to the stage, trying to lose yourself in the atmosphere. A few awards later Henry's hand had crept along the back of your chair, the knuckles of his fingers beginning to run up and down the edge of your shoulder.
If anyone had asked you wouldn’t have been able to name anyone that crossed that stage for the next several awards as you focus was solely on the feeling of the firm bone and soft skin gliding against your own, almost hot on your exposed shoulder.
Throughout the dinner, he talked jovially with the others on your table, his hand always busy on your skin. His hand was resting against the back of your neck, a finger tracing the edge of your pulse point. Unable to take it any longer, you leant forward to grab the wine at the centre of the table. His hand gripped you at the nape of your neck and firmly directed you back into your seat. Your rear collided with the seat cushion with a quiet thump only detectable to his ears. He smiled down at you, a cheeky grin that set your whole face aflame. He turned and spoke to the table at large, offering to pour the drinks. With each word, his hand drifted casually down your arm, leaving goosebumps at the light touch.
You swallowed as Henry rolled up the sleeves on his dress shirt to show off his bartender skills. Inch by inch, his thick forearms dusted with downy dark hair, were exposed to the dim light and your lustful gaze. You watched entranced again by the way he moved, smooth and steady movements, well practised. The pop of the wine cork brought startling clarity to the muscles rippling underneath his skin. You felt a responding ripple move through your body, your thighs clenching underneath the table cloth.
Your wine glass was the first poured, as per gentleman's etiquette. But the look in his eyes was anything but gentlemanly as he handed the glass over. Your heart tripped over itself as his lust-blown pupils bored into yours and his fingers caressing the smooth skin of your fingers around the stem of the cool glass. Then the moment was gone. He moved onto the next glass as if nothing had happened, leaving you stupefied in your seat, heat pooling rapidly between legs.
3…
A few glasses of wine later and the evening was starting to wrap up. The light glinted off his watch creating crazy patterns across the cream tablecloth that covered your table. You focused on the reflected light as Henry’s hand landed on the small of your back and started to make a painfully slow journey up and down your bare back. The pads of his finger tips caressed the now tensed muscles along your spine, each touch light enough they had you squirming in your seat. He paused, digits quiet but obvious on your skin. You could feel his thoughts flickering through his mind as his fingers twitched.
A moment later his hand spread out, where you could feel the length of his fingers stretching out across the small of your back. You gasped as each pressed into your waist in quick succession, before biting your lip hard enough to taste the metallic tang of your blood to stop from squealing outloud.
As quickly as the sensations started, they stopped. Henry's hand moved to shake hands with a passing friend. This continued the whole way out of the venue. Henry's hand constantly pressing into your most sensitive places and then moving away again. A finger skirting along your spine whilst you spoke to a director you'd known for years had you laughing at a light joke like it was the best you'd heard. A thumb gliding across your wrist as you discussed the period costumes of a feature film with its designer had your toes curled inside your expensive shoes and fists clasping your bag with white knuckles in a bid to stop the giggles threatening to escape. In the darkness of the room, your flushed chest would have been invisible but Henry could feel your quaking muscles and the heat radiating from you. All he offered you was a smirk and his outstretched hand as you emerged into the cool night air.
2...
As you stepped into the back of the waiting limo, you could feel Henry’s eyes on your back. You settled into the backseat of the car and moments later Henry was in your personal space, the door shutting firmly behind him. The wizened limousine driver greeted you both and promptly shut the divider, starting your journey home and leaving the two of you in a tense silence.
Henry towered over you in the small space as you shuffled back along the seats a little to give yourself some space from his presence. But he reached across the space between you again, his hand resting against your cheek, reassuring and soothing until his fingers became restless and brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His cerulean eyes were crackling with tension, waiting to be released onto you. Your tongue darted out to move across the indentations your teeth made earlier as you contemplated the same idea. That silent acquiesce was all he needed to claim you in the flickering lights of the city streets shining through the tinted windows. He sought to trace the tendons down your neck until this thumb rested on your clavicle, fingers almost digging into the soft flesh of your arm. The tension rose at an alarming rate until you were convinced the floor would melt with the heat coming off you.
A beat later, his hands moved again to run his finger around the edge of your strapless gown like savouring the froth from the rim of a cup of coffee. He stopped short of licking his finger, but his index finger lingered long enough between your breasts to make you pant with desire. Suddenly, he tugged you forwards with the lone finger, capturing your lips with his in a breathless kiss.
It felt like electricity along the surface of your skin. Beads of sweat conducted the sensations along every length of your body until you were thrumming with need, tiny hairs raising like static electricity, ready to discharge at a moment's notice. Your hands grabbed at his jacket, holding his lips to yours until you couldn’t breath.
You pulled away from Henry’s mouth, breathless and dizzy with lust and wine. Your shoulders collided with the soft leather seat as you leant back, away from the intoxicating scent of warm cloves and pine that surrounded Henry tonight. Your unfocused gaze caught the streetlights bathing Henry's hair in a pale orange light, lighting him up with an ethereal glow. Whether an angel or a devil lie behind those eyes was a question for another time.
You caught his hand as he moved to claim you again, pulling his hand to your lips instead. You worshipped his hand digit by digit, wet kisses at each finger tip. Henry inhaled sharply as your hot tongue flicked out to taste his skin. One last kiss to his palm was all you managed before he grew impatient and tugged you onto his lap. His otherworldly eyes held curiosity in them as you kicked off your shoes and settled over one of his huge thighs instead. Your clit ached for friction from the torturous touch Henry had inflicted upon you that evening. His hand automatically held the soft globes of your ass cheeks, squeezing the flesh as you moved slowly against his thigh.
Your painted lips opened in a rush of air on contact, pleasure mingling with the alcoholic buzz still riding your veins. Your crimson fingernails dug into the scruff of his shirt, leaving red welts on the back of his neck as you rode his thigh. Your lips so close to his ear he could hear every whimper and moan you uttered. In return he whispered into your ear, encouraging your lewd behaviour.
“You like me touching you, do you Kitten? My hands all over your soft skin?”
You let out a whimper as one of Henry’s hands moved to your thigh to still your rocking motions.
“Can you hold it for me? I’m not done playing with my little Kitten yet.”
You leant forwards, your face nodding into his neck, not trusting yourself to speak. His hand slid up your back to rest possessively on the back of your neck, stroking the warm skin.
1…
His hands. Fuck his hands would be the death of you. He pulled you up to face him, placing your bag in your hands as the car rolled to a stop.
“Princess, are you paying attention?”
Shit. Your eyes locked onto his as you nodded again.
“Good. You’ve got until I get to one.”
The look of confusion must have been clear on your face as Henry chuckled. He leant over to open the car door, the light glinting off his canines, predatory behaviour oozing from every pore. His lips closed in on your ear and whispered one word.
“Run.”
Frustrated and keyed up, you shot out onto the dark front lawn of your house. You span on the spot, chest heaving, looking for somewhere to hide. Heart in your chest, you heard him counting down from 5, the sound echoing in the open space. Your lips formed the words too as you listened.
You scrambled up to the house, bare feet sliding on the grass. You giggled before clapping your hands over your mouth. But he’d heard you, footsteps hurrying closer as the countdown continued. After two tries, the door fell open under your shaking hands. You barely managed to stumble through the door and shut it behind you as Henry rounded the corner. You saw him through the glass door panel, white hot lightning shooting through you at the look in his eyes.
You hurried up the hallway stairs, hearing the door creak open behind you. Breathless with adrenaline and laughter from the wine, you tripped over the last step. Hissing as your knees collided with the rough carpet, you backed up as his hulking frame appeared. He was silhouetted in the dark corridor, passing through a door frame barely bigger than him. As that last number left his lips, you felt a cold presence at your rear. You'd backed up against the kitchen counter. Nowhere else to go and out of options to delay. You wouldn’t have it any other way.
He stepped closer, the moonlight slanting through the windows only served to accentuate the prowling movement and the rippling muscles beneath his skin as he approached. His jacket gone and his straining shirt undone a little, exposing the dark shadow of his hairy chest. His presence seemed to tower over you long before he was pressed up against you, trapping you between his hard body and the unmoving counter. You felt his hands glide over your hips and pass your waist, teasing and gentle until he reached your arms. His grip turned vice-like as he lifted all your body weight in his hands. He placed you on the edge of the worktop, the cold, smooth marble against your flushed skin sending shivers down your spine. His hand. Fuck. It slid up the side of your calf, over your knee and pushed up the hem of your already short dress. The other hand reached back to unhook the back of your dress. In mere seconds, you were bare other than the thinnest of lacy underwear you could have possibly worn. Your giggles mixed with the sound of rending fabric and Henry’s growls as he ripped the flimsy fabric from around your womanhood. Sensations all blurred into each other as he explored your exposed skin. His head dipped to press hot kisses against your neck, teeth nipping a little in response to the whimpers falling from your lips. His hands roaming the map of hills and valleys on your body, each touch leaving a burning fingerprint of longing that marked his travels.
“Henry!” you whined, as his touch danced away from your pussy for the third time.
“Uh uh Princess. You’re mine to do with as I please.”
His tongue licked a stripe up the side of your neck to nibble at your ear, his hot breath loud in your ear. A shiver ran down your back at the feeling of his teeth and breath so close to your sensitive neck. His bruising kisses ran back down your throat, the pressure against your windpipe on the border of too intense. His interest in your neck waned, his hot hands meeting his wet lips at the valley of your breasts. He groaned deeply at the sight and feel of your chest against his face, making a meal out of each inch of skin available.
You would gladly be his plaything any day of the week but the wine had made you bold and careless, your hand drifting between your legs to dip into the moisture dripping from your folds onto the body-warm marble. You managed to keep the secret between you and your fingers until one particular groan pulled Henry away from the purple line of desire he was painting across your chest to glance at you. He waited a beat to see how close you were before his hand gripped your wrist and pulled it away from your sensitive nub and away from the edge of what you’d hoped would have been a spectacular orgasm. Tears clouded your vision as he took the pleasure from within your grasp.
“Only I give you orgasms Kitten, you know that.” Henry tutted, carelessly flicking a nipple with his spare hand. You yelped at the unexpected pain and pleasure that chased each other through your body. He yanked you off the side onto the kitchen floor before pressing your hand into the warm and wet imprint you left on the counter.
“Bend over.”
No request made but a demand asked directly of your throbbing and confused pussy. You bent at the hip and braced yourself against the kitchen counter, back flat and presenting yourself for Henry’s viewing pleasure.
“If you want to come so bad Kitten then you’re going to keep coming until I say you’re done.”
You could imagine his shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms again as he stood behind you, one hand gripping your hip possessively as the other moved between your folds seeking your heat. Your fingers scrambled for purchase on the slippery kitchen counter as his fingers pressed inside you. He curled his long fingers, pressing down with each thrust until you were gasping his name into the crook of your arm.
Crack
The sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberated around the expansive kitchen. You keened as the stinging sensation jarred with the deep pleasure Henry was inflicting on you. His hand rubbed the flesh of your rapidly reddening ass cheek.
Crack
This time the round globe of your other cheek caught the blow and you jolted forward at the impact, knees caving in a little as Henry pushed you relentlessly towards the edge. Your moans become higher in pitch with each impact that Henry visited upon your skin, thighs shaking, sweat laying a sheen across your skin in the moonlight. Henry kept up the pace until finally you came violently around his fingers. You felt your thighs become wet and the squelching sounds increase in volume as he rode out your orgasm.
Henry withdrew his fingers from your still spasming walls, seeking to retain his fingers just a moment longer. But you had little time to mourn the loss of sensation as the sound of rustling fabric and faint metal reached your ears. You tried to turn your head to get a look at Henry but he saw the tousled curls move before you could see more than his bare forearm gripping the edge of his suit trousers.
“Eyes front Kitten. Only good girls get a peek.”
You obeyed, eyes drifting back to the pitch black marble in front of you, the rest of the kitchen forgotten in the gloom. From there your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Henry slowly and smoothly pushed his cock between your soaked petals. His hands returned to their rightful place on your hips. His fingers pressed into your pelvic bone, urging you to arch your back a little more. The new angle sending white hot and cold sensation to your extremities, a result of the overstimulation Henry was serving you with every inch of his dick pushing deeper.
“Fuck you’re so tight.”
Henry’s grip on you tightened enough that you’d feel his grip like a brand deep in your muscles for days afterwards. His thumbs massaged the hip bones under his grip as if trying to sooth a worried animal. You were panting with the effort of staying in position, resisting the urge to move your hips, to hurry the beast up. You knew he’d just go slower if you tried to fight him, so you whimpered your feelings towards the floor, loud enough for Henry to notice and bottom out inside you in one thrust. He loved to hear the surprised groan pushed from your throat when he took you by surprise.
Take you by surprise he did as a hand smoothed up your damp back to grab the back of your neck to pull you upright. A thick arm wrapped around your hips to hold your tiptoeing legs in position as he pounded into you.
“That’s it. Press that pussy back onto my cock.” he grunted in your ear, his thrusts speeding up. No words or thoughts entered your mind, you were running purely on instinct. The need to have Henry have control over your body overtaking all your rational thought. The desire to have him pump you full of his seed urged you to bounce your hips back with equal force, chasing, seeking that high of euphoria that only Henry could bless you with.
You felt the pleasure roll up your body like a tidal wave with little warning. Suddenly you were screaming and cursing, clutching at Henry’s arms, neck and hands as he kept thrusting, pushing you further. His grip on your thrashing body tightened, unwilling to let you go, to let you come down from the high. He sought his own as your belly tightened again, coiling up around the length of his manhood pressing into you over and over. You felt as if you were floating on a sea of light, almost to the point of drowning as you felt Henry push deeply into you one last time, his grip painting more marks onto you, some only visible in the way you would move tomorrow.
He came with a low roar, almost purring into the skin of your neck. A few moments later, he lowered you both to the floor onto the remains of your dress and his trousers. The shirt he was still wearing was sticking to his sweaty, panting chest. It wasn’t until dawn peeked over the horizon, painting the kitchen in shades of orange and crimson light that you moved to the bedroom, thankful that tomorrow was a day of rest.
