Needed Me - Andrew "Pope" Cody x fem reader!
Summary: Honestly, Andrew Cody still didn't understand why you stayed by his side even knowing his worst side. But it also wasn't like he was going to give up the only person who made him feel truly human. He would remain by your side, he would endure the looks, the advances, and the idiots who insisted on approaching you. After all, by the end of the night, there would be no doubt about where your heart truly belonged.
Pairings: Andrew 'pope' cody x reader
wc: +/- 7k
Notes: I've never watched Animal Kingdom, but I am OBSESSED with Pope, god, someone bring me some water! I wrote this in a wave of HEAT from my period and thinking naughty little things about this lamb in wolf's skin. Sorry if it turned out terrible, ovulation makes us a little crazy in the head. Ugh, Andy is a fucking hottie by the way.
Warnings: reader's super sweet, Pope's halfway/totally obsessed with you, he's a pervert, reader calls Pope "Andy"(a love!), use of affectionate nicknames (darling and my love), Pope's dependent (god, he loves you so much), possessive Pope, creampie, oral (female receiving), jealousy, multiple orgasms, Pope's in love, Pope is a talker, Pope definitely worships you. fema reader, bad writing (sorry), no use of y/n (I used "you" a lot), adult content (did I forget something?)
Andrew needed you. It was a visceral, latent, and constant need that made his body throb in various ways. You were perfect in every way, loved by everyone, and desired for many reasons. Cody still wondered during the mornings why you had chosen him among all the men you could have had, after all, you had the world in the palm of your hand.
Your sweet smile and kind eyes, soft voice and mannerisms that put anyone at ease. Andrew admired you, your calmness, patience, and benevolence. God, you were fucking perfect and that made him increasingly protective and somewhat possessive of you.
Now you were talking animatedly with another man, gesturing excitedly about whatever crap that guy was saying to you. You didn't even realize the predatory look of the person you were talking to and that made your boyfriend so irritated. Damn, you were so good that you couldn't even see the malice in the eyes of the disgusting men who surrounded you. Andrew knew he couldn't act impulsively, go up to you and grab your waist or simply punch that idiot's jaw and stop him from talking to his girl.
No, he changed for you. Andrew took a deep breath and counted to ten, a breathing exercise he was accustomed to in those moments or situations that made him tense. You were the lifeline that pulled him out of the darkness, the sun that illuminated his days of darkness, and Pope Cody would not let his only happiness slip through his hands like slippery sand.
Since you met, about a year and a half ago, you had always been sweet to the older man. Treating him well, respectfully and cautiously, respecting his time and space, letting the rigid and distrustful man blossom like a flower under the sunlight. You knew about his past, you knew the family he had and the darkness his surname carried, but you learned to love him, to respect him, to embrace him and realize that he could be understood and, above all, truly loved, without pressure or blackmail.
Andrew thought it was because of this exacerbated understanding of yours towards him that made him so obsessed with you, with your well-being and safety. Cody was always surveying you, you knew it even if you didn't see it, after all he was almost a protective little dog and despite everything you adored his peculiar way of providing security.
It was for this reason that out of the corner of your eyes you saw your boyfriend's movement towards you, the straight posture highlighting the muscles compressed by the tight black shirt he wore, the closed expression that made you drool in indecent places and damn, he didn't take his eyes off you, you felt the heat rising under your nape with his gaze on you.
When the older man was close enough, he wrapped his large, rough palm around your waist, squeezing lightly as he pulled you backwards, crashing your back against his broad, firm chest. You sighed when he bent down enough for his breath to make the little hairs behind your ear stand on end. He looked firmly at the man who was talking to you, while whispering just for you to hear.
"Everything okay over here, darling?" He asked hoarsely, his body pressing more against yours and making you want to tremble. You just nodded positively, afraid to open your mouth and moan softly at the possessive and territorial way he held you.
The man in front of you, whose name you had already forgotten, if you had even really heard it amidst your animated chatter about trips or cars, saw what was happening in front of him. His eyes, previously shining with an interest that you naively mistook for mere friendliness, now faltered. The predatory confidence he emanated moments before evaporated like smoke upon encountering the silent and implacable wall that was Pope Cody.
"Ah, yes, of course" the man stammered, taking an involuntary step back. The hand he had raised, about to touch your arm to emphasize some foolish point of the conversation, fell inert at his side. "We were just... I mean, she's your...?"
He let the question die in the air, without the courage to complete the sentence. He didn't dare use a term like "friend" or "acquaintance." The way Andrew held you, with the silent possession of someone holding something precious, left no doubt, you were not just an acquaintance or a friend.
You were an extension of him, a territory marked not by words, but by the unequivocal body language he displayed over you.
Andrew didn't answer, didn't blink, nor did he look away. He just sustained the eye contact with the stranger, his expression sculpted in granite, his jaw clenched and thin lips compressed into a straight line. His silence was more eloquent and terrifying than any verbal threat, after all, it was a silence that spoke of a past you had helped to bury, an echo of a man who didn't negotiate, only took. The stranger, finally, got the message and with a brusque nod and an unintelligible murmur of apology, turned on his heels and disappeared into the crowd of the event, a rat fleeing the shadow of a bird of prey.
Only then, when the threat had dissipated, did Andrew's hand on your waist relax minimally and the pressure that had previously kept you anchored against his chest transformed into a slow and deliberate caress. His fingers traced a path of fire over the thin fabric of your dress, rising along the curve of your waist and then descending to your hip bone, where he let them rest, warm and heavy, like a mark. You couldn't avoid the slight arching of your back, an almost imperceptible movement that pressed you even more against him. A shiver of pure anticipation snaked down your spine, a mixture of relief and excitement.
"You attract moths to the flame, don't you, my love?" His voice vibrated against the shell of your ear, a rough whisper that was meant to be felt, not just heard. The words were a soft growl, laden with a dark adoration. He didn't blame you. The fault, in his distorted mind, lay with the insects that felt drawn to your brightness. He just saw himself in the eternal role of guardian, ready to ward off those who dared to get too close. "So good... so generous with that smile. And they, idiots, mistake your kindness for an invitation."
You turned your face slowly, the tip of your nose brushing the strong line of his jaw. The unique citrusy scent of his skin enveloped you, a perfume you had forever associated with safety and desire. Your lips almost touched the corner of his mouth as you murmured, your voice a trembling thread of contained pleasure. "You know it's with you I want to be, Andy. Only with you."
Andy. Never Pope or Andrew, to you he was your Andy.
The admission, simple and sincere, seemed to untie something inside him as a deep sigh, which sounded more like a grunt of satisfaction, escaped his lips.
"I know, darling" he replied, his voice still hoarse, but now tinged with a vulnerability that only you had the privilege of witnessing. "That's why I... I just need to be sure. Need to remind myself. And remind them."
The "remind them" was not an empty promise, but a fact consummated with every withering look, every possessive touch. It was the primitive and absolute way with which he loved, a love that terrified him and completed him in equal measures. He pulled away enough so you could turn around, standing face to face with him, but still confined within the protective circle of his arms. His eyes, of that deep and stormy blue, roamed your face as if reading the pages of a sacred book, memorizing every detail, the brightness in your eyes, the slight blush on your cheeks, the way your lips were parted.
"You have no idea what you do to me" he confessed, his voice so low it seemed more like a thought that had escaped from the cages of his self-control. He raised one hand and, with a delicacy that contrasted brutally with the hardness of his body and his reputation, touched your face. The backs of his fingers, calloused and rough, slid along the soft skin of your cheek in a breathtaking caress. "I lived so long in the dark... And then you appeared, my love. Like the dawn, so gradual, patient and inevitable. You didn't try to fix me, you simply... stayed. You saw me entirely and didn't run away."
His voice broke on the last word. The raw emotion in his confession made your heart clench and, at the same time, expand. You covered his hand with yours, keeping it pressed against your face, turning your face to kiss the rough palm. The gesture, so pure and full of affection, made Andrew's pupils dilate, the brownish-green mixture almost completely swallowed by a black of desire and devotion.
"You are my proof that there is something good in the world, and by some miracle, that goodness chose me" he continued, his forehead inclining to touch yours. Your noses touched and the air you shared became rarefied, charged with electricity. "So, yes, I'm going to stay here. I'm going to be the shadow that follows you, the guard dog that growls at anyone who dares to look at you. Because you gave me a second chance and I'm going to spend every second of it ensuring that you feel so safe, so loved, that the idea of belonging to any other world that isn't ours, together, never even crosses your mind."
He paused, his thumb caressing your cupid's bow with hypnotic slowness. A small, dangerous smile, the smile of the predator who found his prey, curved his lips.
"Let's get out of here." It wasn't a request, but a soft command, a command that promised a world of sensations. "I want to feel you close to me, just for me. Today, tomorrow, and always."
The secluded corner where you were was left behind, the people at that party becoming mere blurs the moment Andrew guided you out. All your senses were monopolized by him. Your Andy.
He spun you with an unexpected fluidity for a man of his size, and when he brought you back very close, it was to hold you against himself in a way that left no space for air, much less for any remnant of social decorum. One of his large hands spread on the lower part of your back, the pressure firm and possessive, his fingers insinuating themselves dangerously on the curve where your spine ended, both of you walking away from everyone.
"I don't like sharing your attention" he murmured against your side, his voice a low thunder that reverberated directly in your stomach. "It drives me crazy. Makes me want things I promised myself I wouldn't do anymore." The hand on your back slid and the daring thumb pressed your covered dermis with a firmness that was almost a reprimand. "Primitive things. Things civilized men don't do."
He guided you in a slow movement, his body moving against yours in a way that simulated an intimacy much deeper than the walk to the other end of the room allowed. His muscular thigh insinuated itself between yours, a tangled embrace but so certain that it was questionable the way you moved as if you were one and the friction of the dress fabric against your skin made you hold your breath.
Andrew noticed. Of course he noticed. He noticed every tremor, every sigh, every drop of sweat that sprouted on your nape and the older man fed on your reactions.
"You like it when I talk like that, don't you, darling?" he asked, his voice tinged with a malice that made your face burn. His mouth descended to your temple, depositing a kiss there, warm and lingering. "You like it when I forget the rules and show you the man that still exists inside here. The dirty man."
Cody's lips brushed the curve of your ear and the following words were a profane whisper, a stark contrast to the refined environment around you. "I constantly think about how your skin gets marked under my fingers and everyone sees that you are mine. I think about the sounds you make when you forget to be polite. I think about these beautiful breasts that make me absolutely dumb with desire."
The hand that was on your back rose slowly up your side, his fingers spread, palpating each rib through the fabric until the edge of his thumb brushed, with devastating precision, the lower curve of your breast. It was not an accidental touch, perhaps it was a promise. His breathing became irregular, while an almost inaudible grunt vibrated in his throat and Cody felt the soft weight against his hand, even through the barrier of the dress.
"I would want to spend hours here" he confessed, his voice heavy with an obscene adoration. "Just looking. Just touching. The way they fit in my hand, as if they had been made for me. So soft. So perfect." His thumb moved in a slow and deliberate arc, brushing the exact point where the lace of the bra created a rise under the satin.
You bit your lower lip hard, a futile attempt to contain the moan that threatened to escape. The sensation was exacerbated by the certainty that you were in public, even if more secluded, surrounded by strangers who had no idea of the fire he was lighting in you.
Andrew smiled against your skin, a smile of pure predatory satisfaction. "That's it. Hold the sound for me. Because later, when we're alone, I want to hear all of them. I want you to scream, if necessary. But now, in this moment, your pleasure is mine. Only mine."
He spun you one more time, and when he brought you back to him, you were in a darker corner of the hall, partially hidden by a column and a cascade of floral arrangements. His hand moved from your hip to your nape, his fingers tangling in the hair there, pulling your head back with a firm gentleness that made you expose your throat to him. Andrew's eyes, stormy and hungry, devoured the line of your neck.
"I'm so afraid of losing you" he whispered, and the sudden vulnerability in his voice, mixed with the rawness of desire, was heartbreaking. He kissed you at the base of your throat, a light suction that he soon soothed with his tongue, as if apologizing for the mark he might leave. "This fear consumes me. I need you like I need air. It's desperate and... And it's the only truth I have."
He pulled away only enough to look into your eyes, his hand still on your nape, the other now resting on your racing heart, feeling the erratic beats. "Tell me you're mine. Say it now. I need to hear your voice saying the words."
The raw plea, uttered by that man so powerful and restrained, undid any defense you might still have had. You raised your hands to frame his face, your thumbs caressing the visage marked by life. "I am yours, Andrew. Body and soul. Every piece of me belongs to you."
What happened in his eyes was a controlled implosion. The stormy greenish-brown was flooded by a black wave of possession and relief. He took your mouth in a kiss that was everything but civilized. There was no hesitation, only a voracious and insatiable hunger where his tongue invaded your mouth with urgency. Pope kissed you as if he were trying to find salvation in the depths of your soul, a drowning man who finally found the surface, and in the silence of that corner, cradled by each other's presence, the world outside could wait.
The kiss was broken only by the pressing need for air, but Andrew didn't pull away from you. On the contrary. He remained with his forehead glued to yours, the panting and hot breath mixing with yours, his eyes half-closed as he tried to recover some remnant of control. Control that crumbled with every little tremor that ran through his body, with every accelerated beat of your heart that he still felt.
"I won't be able to wait until we get home" he admitted, his voice so hoarse and deep that it seemed to scrape your skin like fine sandpaper.
He took your hand with urgency, his long fingers intertwining with yours with an almost desperate firmness. Without saying anything else, Andrew led you outside, he didn't look to the sides, didn't care about the curious looks or the raised eyebrows. The world could be on fire and he wouldn't have noticed, because all his attention was focused solely on you.
Andrew took you to a wide staircase that led to the upper floors, your steps echoed on the polished marble, a sound muffled by the music that was getting more and more distant. With each step, the expectation grew, dense and electric, like the air before a summer storm.
You felt the heat of his hand on yours, the pressure of his fingers that was at the same time possessive and comforting, as if he feared you might evaporate if he let you go for even a second.
Despite the neediness, insecurities, and problems, Andrew Cody was a calculating man, a born strategist, and planning an escape route to have you all to himself was as natural to him as breathing. The hallway on the top floor was lined with a thick carpet that completely muffled the steps, the walls adorned with golden light fixtures that projected soft and intimate shadows. Everything was silence and penumbra, a stark contrast to the brightness and bustle of the floor below. Andrew stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway and took the keycard from the inside pocket of his suit jacket with an agility that betrayed his anxiety.
He unlocked the door and opened it, but instead of simply letting you pass, he pulled you inside with him, his arms enveloping you even before the door closed completely. The sound of the latch clicking into place was muffled by the sound of your panting breath when he pressed you against the solid wood surface.
"Finally" he whispered against your lips, his voice laden with a relief so profound it was almost painful. "No interruptions. Just you and me and everything I want to do to you."
Andrew didn't wait for an answer. His mouth captured yours in a kiss that was everything but delicate. It was a dirty kiss, messy, desperate. His tongue invaded your mouth without asking permission, tangling with yours in a primitive and wet dance. There was too much saliva, teeth, and a hunger so absolute that you felt your knees buckle.
Andrew noticed and used his own body to keep you standing, his hip fitting perfectly against yours, the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressing against your belly in a way that tore a muffled moan from your throat.
His hands didn't stay still. While he kissed you with that devastating intensity, his agile fingers began to work on the buttons of your dress. But the patience, which he had been cultivating with so much effort throughout the entire night, finally ran out. With a grunt of frustration against your lips, he simply pulled the fabric hard, and the sound of the buttons coming loose and bouncing on the wooden floor was muffled by your exclamation of surprise.
"Sorry" he murmured, but there was no regret in his voice, only a raw and animalistic satisfaction. "I'll buy another one. I'll buy a hundred more. But now I need to see you. I need to touch you. Please, let me touch you."
The plea in his voice, mixed with the confession of his almost painful need, made something inside you melt. You let him push the dress off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your arms and pooling at your feet in a puddle of satin. Andrew took a step back, just enough so his eyes could roam your body now exposed only to the soft light entering through the window.
He remained still for a moment, his breath suspended as his pupils dilated in a way that almost swallowed the iris. Andrew looked at you like a starving man before a banquet, like a devotee before an altar, like a castaway who had finally sighted land.
"My God" he whispered, his voice choked with an almost religious reverence. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life. And I don't deserve you. I know I don't deserve you. But I'm going to spend every second of this night trying to get close to being worthy."
He knelt before you. Andrew Cody, the man who made grown men tremble with a single look, who had spent years in prison, built on orders and fear, knelt at your feet like a subject before his queen. His large, calloused hands slid up your legs, from your ankles to your thighs, his fingers tangling in the thin straps of your panties.
"Everything about you is perfect" he murmured, his lips depositing open kisses on every inch of skin he revealed as he pushed the intimate piece aside. "Every curve. Every detail. Every little piece of this body."
He kissed the inside of your thighs, your hip bone, and raised his eyes to you. There was an intensity in that look that was almost unbearable, a mixture of adoration, desire, and something deeper, something that bordered on obsession. He didn't look away while he kissed the inside of your thigh again. He didn't look away while his tongue traced a wet and warm path over your skin, he didn't look away when his mouth finally found your center, his lips closing a little below the mons veneris, with a precision that tore a muffled moan from your throat.
"It's..." he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice reverberating on your most sensitive spot. "It's this sound that I want to hear. It's like this that I want you for me, my love."
What followed was a slow and meticulous torture. Andrew was in no hurry and savored you as if it were the first and the last meal of his life, his tongue tracing elaborate patterns that brought you to the edge of the abyss and then pulled you back, only to start all over again. His fingers joined the dance, first one, then two, filling you with a rhythmic pressure that matched perfectly with the movements of his mouth.
The hand that held the panties aside, pulled the delicate cloth down and removed it completely from your body. His hungry mouth returning to your dripping center as his rough palms moved up your body, finding your breast and pulling the fabric down with an impatience that contrasted with the meticulousness of what he was doing between your legs, groping the breast so his fingers could massage it, pinch it, venerate it.
"They are so beautiful" he murmured, pulling away only enough to speak, his chin shining with the evidence of the pleasure he was giving you.
With each caress, each touch, Andrew undid the barriers of your body with a patience that bordered on the sacred. Kneeling before you like a devotee he kept his eyes fixed on yours, observing every reaction, every tremor, every little muscle that contracted under the implacable attention of his mouth and his fingers. The sounds that escaped your lips were music to his ears. Every muffled moan, every choppy sigh, every time you held your breath and then released it in a trembling lament, Andrew absorbed it all as if they were the notes of a symphony composed just for him. He felt your taste on his tongue, a flavor he had been addicted to since the first time and that was now as essential as the air he breathed.
Your soft texture against his lips, the moist heat that received him, the way your body responded to his every movement was a sensory experience so overwhelming that it made him forget his own name. Feeling himself getting harder and harder knowing he was giving you pleasure.
"So beautiful," Cody murmured against your skin, his voice vibrating in waves of pleasure that ran through your entire body. His fingers descended once more and now pressed inside you, curved in a movement he already knew by heart, a precise gesture that made you arch your back and dig your nails into his shoulders. "So perfect. So mine."
His free hand went up your side, spreading over your ribcage, feeling each of your breaths as if it were the beating of a frightened bird's wings. His thumb caressed the lower curve of your breast, a light touch that contrasted with the intensity of what his mouth was doing further down. He wanted to feel everything. Every texture, every reaction, every drop of pleasure that came out of you.
With a few more thrusts of his fingers and licks on your slippery folds, you finally came apart against his mouth, a muffled scream escaping through the lips you were biting hard, but of course Andrew didn't stop.
He accompanied you through the waves of pleasure, prolonging each second, sucking your clit and drinking every drop of you like a man who had crossed the desert and finally found an oasis, thrusting his thick fingers, coated with your pleasure, with increasing intensity. Only when your knees gave way and he had to support you with his strong arms did he pull away, his lips shining and his eyes dark with a proud satisfaction.
"I'm here, darling" he whispered, getting up and taking you in his arms as if you weighed nothing.
Pope carried you to the bed and laid you down on the mattress with a reverence that contrasted with the urgency that still pulsed between his legs and vibrated throughout his body. For a moment, he remained there, hovering over you, his eyes roaming your naked body with an adoration so intense it was almost palpable. The soft light drew shadows on the curves of your body, highlighting every detail he loved almost sickly.
"I could spend hours just looking at you" he confessed, his voice hoarse and low, his fingers went to his own shirt with precise movements, but without haste. "I could spend the whole night worshiping every inch of you and it still wouldn't be enough."
The shirt fell to the floor, revealing the muscular torso marked by old scars and freckles that told stories of a past you had helped bury. The muscles contracted when he got rid of his pants and the last piece of clothing, completely revealing the extent of the desire he felt for you. So virile, with that hardness and heat, an impressive contrast with the vulnerability that shone in his eyes whenever they met yours.
Andrew climbed onto the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight as he positioned himself over you, his forearms resting beside your head and his body covering yours like a protective shield. Always so protective. His warm skin against yours was a balm and a torment at the same time, each point of contact a small explosion of pleasure that made your body shudder.
"I love you" the older man said, the words coming out with a disarming simplicity. There was no calculation in them, there were no ulterior motives. It was just the truth, naked and raw, offered to you as an offering. "I love you in a way that sometimes scares me. In a way that makes me want to be a better man, even knowing I will never be good enough for you."
Andrew lowered himself and kissed your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. He kissed your lips with a tenderness that contrasted with the position you were in, with his body pressing yours against the mattress, with the unmistakable evidence of his desire rubbing against your damp thigh from the previous orgasm.
"You saved me" he continued, his lips moving to your neck, depositing open kisses along the warm column of your throat. "You saw me at my worst and decided to stay. You gave me a reason to believe that I could be more than my past, more than my surname, more than my mistakes."
As he spoke, his hand descended your body, his calloused fingers finding your center once more, but now with a different purpose. He wanted to feel if you were ready for him, wanted to make sure he wouldn't hurt you. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he still couldn't believe he had permission to touch you like this.
"Are you ready for me, my love?" he asked, his voice laden with a controlled expectation. His eyes found yours, seeking confirmation, seeking permission, seeking the certainty that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. "Can I...?"
When you nodded, unable to form coherent words in the face of the intensity of that moment, something transformed in his eyes. The careful restraint gave way to a devastating hunger, a need so profound it was almost painful to witness. He positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his throbbing member brushing your wetness, and then began to enter you slowly, inch by inch, as if he were memorizing every contraction, every texture, every little sound that escaped your lips.
The world around you dissolved. There was nothing else, there were no more people, there was nothing else but the two of you and the connection that united you in such a deep and visceral way. Andrew filled you completely, a hoarse moan escaping his throat when he finally settled fully inside your body. He remained still for a moment, his forehead resting on yours, his panting breath mixing with yours. His eyes closed, as if he were trying to engrave that sensation in his memory forever.
He began to move. The movements were slow and deep, each thrust a silent declaration of love, claim, and belonging. He was in no hurry and wanted to prolong that moment for as long as possible, wanted to feel every contraction of you around him, every tremor that ran through your body, every fingernail that dug into his back.
His hands roamed your body with an almost religious reverence. His fingers traced the curves of your breasts, descended along your waist, grabbed your hips with a controlled strength that left marks he would kiss later, apologizing for each one. His mouth found yours in kisses that alternated between the purest tenderness and the most absolute hunger, between love and obsession, between devotion and possession. Sometimes your breaths collided hindered by your needy moans, your head turning to the side while your body was propelled deliciously upwards, in a precise rite inside you that felt every vein and pulse of Andrew's cock.
"Do you feel that?" he asked, his voice trembling with contained pleasure. "Do you feel how we fit together perfectly? As if you were made for me?"
The rhythm increased even more. The sound of skin meeting filled the room, mixing with the muffled moans and the words of love he whispered against your skin. Each thrust was deeper than the last, each movement more urgent, each breath more panting. Andrew loved you with all his body, with all his soul, with all the intensity of a man who had spent too long in the darkness and now refused to let go of the light he had found.
"I want to fill you" he confessed, his voice a rough whisper against the shell of your ear, his eyebrows furrowed in a painful need. The movements became more erratic, less controlled, as the tension accumulated at the base of his spine. "I want to feel you from the inside. I want to leave a part of me in you. I want you to know, to feel, to never forget that you are mine."
Your fingers found his, intertwining over the sheet and extending upwards, your thighs wrapped around Cody's waist and squeezing him closer to you, the hairs at the base of Andy's hard cock, wet with pre-cum, rasping against your sensitive clit. Your faces close and panting, you saw your boyfriend's neck and ears in a reddish tone of pleasure.
"Look at me" he pleaded, his voice breaking into a supplication. "Please, my love. I want to see your eyes when you cum for me. I want to see you come undone."
The tension inside you built, grew, expanded until it became unbearable. Every movement of him inside you, every word of love whispered against your skin, every touch of his calloused fingers on the most sensitive points of your body pushed you closer and closer to the abyss. Your body, acting on its own, pressed against his and the wet slaps of your skins meeting became louder and more obscene. When you finally came, when the pleasure exploded in waves that ran through every nerve of your body, Andrew was there to support you.
"That's it, my love," he whispered, his voice choked with an emotion that went far beyond physical pleasure. "Just like that. Let go. I'm here. I'll always be here."
He watched you with an adoration that bordered on fanaticism. You tightening around him while your fingers loosened from Andrew's hands to scratch the older man's muscular back, squeezing and pulling him to you, red welts forming on his tanned and freckled skin.
Every sound that escaped your lips were treasures he kept in his memory. His eyes roamed your face with an almost painful reverence, as if he were witnessing something sacred, something he didn't deserve, but that was given to him anyway.
"So beautiful" he murmured, his voice broken. "So perfect. So mine."
And then, when he could no longer contain himself, when the pleasure became unbearable and the need to surrender completely to you overcame any remnant of control, Andrew allowed himself to fall too. He sank into you with one last deep movement, a hoarse moan escaping his throat as he spilled everything he had inside you. The warmth of the liquid filled you completely, an intimate and primitive sensation that united you in a way that transcended the physical.
"I love you," he whispered against your lips, the words choppy from the spasms of pleasure that still ran through his body. "I love you. I love you. I love you."
He repeated those words like a mantra, like a prayer, like a promise. Each declaration was accompanied by a kiss, a touch, a caress. He remained inside you for long minutes, reluctant to separate, to break that connection that united you in such a deep and complete way.
When he finally lay down beside you, he pulled you close, his arms enveloping your body as if it were the most precious thing in the world. His head found shelter in the curve of your neck, his warm breath caressing your skin as he slowly returned to reality. His fingers traced distracted patterns on your back, an automatic gesture that soothed him as much as it soothed you.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice still hoarse, but now tinged with genuine concern. His eyes found yours, searching for any sign of discomfort. "Wasn't I... too rough?"
The question was so incongruent with the man he was to the rest of the world that it almost made you smile. Andrew Cody, the man who made grown men tremble with a single look, worried about being too rough in bed. But this was the version of him that only you knew and it was this version that you loved with every fiber of your being.
"You were perfect" you replied, your voice still a little shaky. "You always are perfect, Andy."
Something shone in his eyes. It wasn't just satisfaction or male pride. It was something deeper, more vulnerable. It was the gratitude of a man who had spent his entire life believing he didn't deserve to be loved and who now found himself faced with irrefutable proof that he was wrong.
"I don't know what I did to deserve you" he murmured, his fingers still tracing patterns on your back. "But I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy. Trying to make you happy. Trying to be the man you deserve."
Ele beijou sua testa, suas pálpebras, a ponta do seu nariz. Beijou seus lábios com uma ternura que contrastava com a intensidade do que vocês acabavam de compartilhar. E quando finalmente se acomodou ao seu lado, seus braços ainda envolvendo seu corpo como um escudo protetor, ele sussurrou contra sua pele as mesmas palavras que repetiria até o fim de seus dias.
"I love you. Today. Tomorrow. Always.".
