hair dye [ cm x r ]
fandom : Dear Evan Hansen
by : Summer
pairing : Connor Murphy x Reader
summary : in which you and Zoe are dying your hair and try to convince Connor to dye his.
request : “Could you write some Connor Murphy imagine where he is a virgin and the reader isn’t and it’s some smut.”
word count : 7,007
warnings : boy oh boy is this gonna be a sMUT HNNGGGFFFF, y’all can’t have a smut w/o a hella lotta sexual innuendos, cursing, mentions blood?, ooc writing, rushed writing, terrible writing in general;;,,,,,
a / n : Inspired by when I dyed my hair and was super lazy per usual and stained my pillowcase. i’m such a sinner… Is it just me or did my writing change completely like halfway through it? idk it’s bad, sorry. Thanks for reading though. Any sort of support is sincerely respected: liking, commenting, reblogging, following, anything! Constructive criticism is always appreciated :) Much love.
“What the alien cult shit is going on?” Connor asked with a very pissed and very confused expression.
He had just walked past the bathroom when he saw his sister sitting on a chair with strands of hair sectioned off into tubes of tin foil. Y/N, his girlfriend was standing beside Zoe with purple hands. Purple? Blue? Indigo.
“It’s the devil himself,” Zoe said sarcastically.
“You little bi-”
“Zoe,” You cut off Connor rapidly, “if anything he’s a handsome devil.”
“…Fuck you,” Connor mumbled, crossing his arms, and leaning against the doorframe.
“Y/N, you’re gross,” Zoe groaned. You snapped your indigo stained gloves off.
“Grossly in love,” you sang, walking over to Connor and tapping him on the nose. His scowl softened just slightly. Zoe simply groaned.
“I literally cannot have a single day without sharing you,” Zoe slapped the bathroom counter with both hands, “Y/N, you’re supposed to be my best friend. If anything, you’re like my sister and that’d be super weird to think of my sister dating my brother.”
Connor raised his eyebrow and slowly slid his arm over your shoulders. You leaned into his side, expecting him to say exactly what he’d said next.
“You can think of Y/N as your sister-in-law,” he smirked.
Zoe let out a forced gag. Connor stuck his tongue out at her. You waved your arms to cut through their petty teasing.
“If you must know, Connor,” you began, taking a step back to stand in front of Zoe, “We’re dying each other’s hair. After Zoe’s indigo streaks, I’m thinking of doing an ombré to red.” (a/n: if you have darker hair then imagine you bleached it before dying it)
“Okay… but, why?” he responded boredly.
“Well, why not?”
“But why would you?”
“Because it’s like, color! And in your hair. Doesn’t that sound fun or something?”
“Not really.”
You let out an exasperated sigh, turning to Zoe to back you up. She had a mischievous glint in her eye.
“You know,” she smiled slyly, “I think Connor should see how fun it is for himself.”
Connor’s eyes widened. You gasped far too loudly.
“Connor we should totally dye your hair,” you began bouncing up and down like a little child.
“Absolutely not,” Connor shook his head.
“Why not?” you whined.
“Why should I?” he raised his voice an octave to mimic yours.
“You’re so stuck up,” Zoe rolled her eyes, “seriously, there’s no harm in doing it!”
Connor opened his mouth to object, but you interrupted him.
“And I thought you liked spending time with me,” you fake pouted.
“Of course I do,” he frowned, “but not with this gremlin,” he gestured to Zoe, who mocked offense. You decided to try at him with a different approach.
“Aw babe,” you placed your hand against his cheek, moving it back against his head with every word, “I thought you loved when put my hands into your hair, and give it a nice tug.”
You tugged the handful of his hair you had roughly, and he let out a low growl.
“Enough of all of that disgusting flirting, or whatever it is you weirdos do,” Zoe interjected, “are you gonna dye your hair or what?”
You bit your lip, “And even if you don’t like it, I’ll make sure you have fun one way or another,” you winked.
Connor’s face flushed as he groaned angrily. You giggled at him being all flustered.
“Zo, this is exactly the kind of red I’m going for!” you pointed to Connor’s reddening cheeks.
Zoe snorted, failing to hold back her laughter.
“Whatever!” Connor yelled.
You picked up a couple different hair dye colors you had. Holding up a dark blue shade up to Zoe, she posed thoughtfully. Connor spoke up, eyeing the label on the box.
“None of that permanent bullshit,” he crossed his arms, “don’t you have stuff that, like, washes out?”
“As a matter of fact, we do, brother dearest,” Zoe searched through her cluttered bag for the hair chalk you two had gotten to test how different colors would look on your hair.
She handed you a dark blue shade fairly similar to the dye you had in hand. You held them out to Connor.
“What do you think?” you asked.
“I don’t care as long as that,” he pointed at Zoe, “isn’t putting its hands anywhere near me.”
“Make all the excuses you want, Con, but we all know you’re just desperate to have Y/N’s hands all over you,” Zoe smirked.
You rolled your eyes, “Oh, so it’s not disgusting for you to make sexual innuendos about us?”
She giggled, while shrugging. Connor merely scoffed.
“Please,” he seethed, “You can’t keep your hands off of me, can’t you Y/N?”
You raised your eyebrow, as if to warn him ‘two can play at this game’.
“No,” you mumbled innocently, “but you sure don’t seem to mind.”
“Jesus Christ,” Zoe intercepted, “are you guys gonna keep taunting each other or just do it on the counter?”
It all went silent for a good two minutes. You and Connor just stared at Zoe. She darted her eyes left and right for anything to change the subject. She lifted up the hair chalk.
“So, this dark blue?” she smiled awkwardly.
“Yeah,” you replied nonchalantly, as if nothing happened beforehand, “but first, let’s dye my hair.”
After ten minutes, the whole bottom layer of you hair was coated in a blood red dye, courtesy of Zoe. Connor had just sat on the counter the entire time, picking the nail polish off of his nails the entire time. Black flakes littered the sink.
“This is fucking boring,” Connor complained bluntly.
“You know,” Zoe glared, “you don’t have to stay and watch us. You can literally do anything else other than be a creepy stalker or whatever.”
“Nah Zo,” you raised your eyebrows, turning back to look at her, “I’m sure if he could, he’d spend every minute of every day undressing me with his eyes.”
“Literally every time you open your mouth, you have to make a sexual innuendo.”
Connor blew a strand of hair out of his face and propped his legs on top of your knees. You placed your hands on top of his lower legs, and fiddled with the cuffs of his black jeans.
“I don’t have to make verbal innuendos all the time,” you trailed your hands higher up to Connor’s knees, then his thighs, “I can make physical innuendos too.”
Connor looked like he was on the verge of a sweat. You brought your hands up the slightest bit higher and he violently kicked, his foot reaching dangerously close to your face.
“I’m out,” Zoe yelled, almost sprinting out of the bathroom.
Connor hopped off of the counter and slammed the door shut. Click. And suddenly the space seemed thick between you two. An atmosphere of fright grew in the small room, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you presented him a gaudy grin.
Connor slowly turned around, with a furious expression on his face. His eyebrows were arched down, his teeth clenched in a tight scowl, and his ice-cold eyes boring into yours. You didn’t know what to expect next.
You would’ve fallen back at the sudden impact of Connor hadn’t pulled you back by the rear. He slammed his lips fiercely against yours with a fiery passion that could match your reddening hair. Your lips moved in a quickening synchronization as you felt heat wrap around you.
You brought your hands up to grasp the sides of his cheeks, tracing back from his jawline, and ultimately pulling farther into his messy knotted locks. You balled up your fists in his hair and tugged hard, hearing him let out a staggering growl. He pulled you closer, biting hard on your lower lip, making you let out a strangled whimper in return. His chest pressed roughly against yours as you wrapped your left leg around his right. You felt his grip on your rear growing tighter and his hand shift closer your core, his bony fingers pressing up firmly, making you feel weak. You pushed against the bulge forming in his jeans.
He lifted his hand to reach your cheek, and you pulled away suddenly, sitting back into the chair, trying hard not to laugh at his next angry outburst.
“What the fuck?” he yelled, shooting his arms up and dropping them to hit his legs.
“Hair, babe,” you pointed to your hair as he let out an annoyed sigh.
“Well, wash it out!”
Speedy footsteps approached the bathroom, and was replaced with a loud banging on the door.
“I hear yelling!” Zoe shouted, “You better not be murdering my best friend in there!”
“You mean your only friend?” Connor shot back.
You slipped past Connor and unlocked the door, allowing Zoe to stomp in. She exchanged a glance between you, then to Connor, and personally evaluated the scene, focusing very intently on Connor’s disheveled and even messier than usual hair.
“I leave for ten minutes and you animals cannot control yourselves,” she pointed her index finger up and waved it accusingly at the two of you.
You walked around her to stand by Connor and slipped your arm around his waist. He shot you a threatening look, almost daring you to try him.
“I,” You placed your hand over your chest vainly, “can control myself just fine. Your brother on the other hand,” you moved your hand from your chest to pat him gently on the stomach, “might have just the slightest difficulty with that.”
Connor immediately shoved out of your hold and took a step back.
“I can control myself just fucking fine,” he glared, fuming through clenched teeth.
“Oh really?” you laughed, “I beg to differ. Yeah, exhibit A,” you proudly lifted your arms out and gestured to Connor’s pants, presenting his very apparent… excitement. He placed his hands in front of him to cover it, in obvious embarrassment.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind taking about how you were just soaking your fucking panties over me,” Connor argued, and mocking you in a high-pitched tone, he moaned, “Oh Connor! Mmm, yes Connor! Oh, oohh, Connor, fuck me sideways with a spork!” he gasped, flailing his hands back and forth and rubbing them up and down his chest to ridicule you more.
Zoe could do nothing but blink rapidly, and remained in a still position, her mouth hung open in clear disgust. Slowly and silently, you pressed her chin up and closed her mouth, to which she responded by shaking her head violently.
“Wow, okay,” she mumbled out, “I am.. related, to this-this.. person..,” she trailed off.
Connor rolled his eyes and walked out, before you could contradict him. Maybe he won that round, but you planned for him to take his sorry words and shove them back down his throat.
“So,” you dragged out the ‘o’, hoping to resurrect Zoe from her state of absolute disbelief, “how long until I can wash this dye out?”
“…Twenty minutes.”
After seven or eight painfully awkward minutes, you and Zoe decided to look for Connor so you could use the blue hair chalk. When he wasn’t anywhere to be seen in his room, the two of you had found him in the kitchen, drinking the milk straight from the container. Zoe was about to tell him off before he had told her there was barely any left, anyways. You held up the temporary dyes. He averted his eyes from you and simply frowned.
“Hey Mr. Boyfriend-of-the-year,” you joked, “how’s about we put a little color in that hair and a smile on that face, huh?”
He completely ignored you.
“Don’t be petty, babe,” you dropped your head on his shoulder, and he shrugged you off. Zoe decided to butt in.
“Hey Connor, we’ve got a few minutes, let’s put some of this chalk on your hair,” she spoke, with fake enthusiasm.
“You know, Zoe,” he propped his hand upwards, “I don’t really think I want to. Yeah, a certain someone really changed my mind.”
Zoe turned to you, and you just closed your eyes, brows raised, and let out a sharp exhale.
“Can I change it back?” you pleaded, and Connor raised an eyebrow at you with a cocky smile, “What can I do that’s not non-consensual, illegal, out of a $10 budget range, or flat out disgusting?”
“I think you know,” he chuckled while pulling out his phone to record.
“How would I- oh,” you winced, knowing how regretful you’d be in the very near future.
“Alright… Go!” he pressed the record button.
“Here goes any shred of respect I’ve ever had for myself,” you sighed loudly, “Hmm, o-oh, Connor… uh, mmm Connor Murphy is the sexiest human being! Oohh Connor,” you spoke mortified, burying your face into your hands. Connor and Zoe were laughing obnoxiously.
“Keep going,” Connor choked, his voice caught in laughter. You shook your head in total disappointment of yourself.
“Connor Murphy has the biggest dick in the world,” you forced out dryly.
“Say-,” Connor cut himself off with a snort, “Say ‘I rub my nipples thinking about you every single night’!”
“Alright. You heard it here folks,” you grinned, “Connor Murphy rubs his nipples thinking about me every single night! That’s gotta be some serious commitment!”
“God damn it, you know what I mean!”
“Fine, fine, okay,” you made a noise of frustration, “um… I rub my nipples,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, “thinking about you every single night. Satisfied, asshole?”
“Not as satisfied as you’ll be, soon,” Connor taunted smugly, rewatching the video.
You were, in fact, humiliated and wanted nothing more than to take that phone and shove it up his ass. But, you had to admit, you loved seeing how much he laughed and smiled. That was sort of a rare sight and, as agonizing as the whole experience was, you couldn’t help but wager the fact that it might have been worth it. And there was also another bonus:
“So are we gonna put this blue in your hair or what?”
You stood behind a seated Connor, running your fingers through his hair, trying to take out the majority of knots in it. It was a nice silence, not overwhelmingly tense. He was relaxing into your touch, the feeling of your fingernails lightly dragging from his scalp to give a gently pull at the ends was an incredible amount of soothing and comforting to him. You took your hands out of his hair before he could get too comfortable or even fall asleep.
Zoe on the left side, you on the right, the both of you began sectioning of different portions of his hair for the coloring process. Starting from the back of his head and slowly making your way to his front, you colored random streaks of the pigment into his curly strands. The bright bathroom lighting highlighting the blue gave him such an oceanic aura, you couldn’t help but smile. His waves of hair mimicked the waves of the ocean, and his pale skin and icey eyes greatly resembled that of sea foam, and the accents of pale brown hair was the shore his waves were crashing into.
He was stunning, to say the least.
“Keep staring and smiling at me, why don’t you,” Connor remarked.
“I can’t help it that you’re beautiful,” you gazed into his calming eyes.
Zoe made a noise that sounded like a retch. You looked over at her to see her pointing at her open mouth, tongue sticking out, and eyebrows furrowed with repulse. You gave her a look that expressed your annoyance with her replies to anytime you and Connor conversed.
“It’s time for you to wash out your hair,” she told you.
“Okay, but first,” you turned your attention to Connor, who looked back at you expectantly, “Con, what do you think of your hair?”
“It’s eh,” he shrugged, “I don’t hate it, but I don’t really like it either. You sure this stuff washes out? I don’t want to have to go to school looking like a fucking smurf.”
You nearly choked trying to hold back a laugh. Connor Smurfy. Recomposing yourself, you tried to keep your voice steady.
“Yeah, you want to wash it out?” you asked him, and he nodded, “Okay, babe, I’ll go wash my hair out in the other bathroom.”
“What, you don’t want to shower with me?” he teased, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You bit your lip as you gradually turned around to answer him.
“First of all,” you held up one finger, “I’m just rinsing my hair, no stripping required. And second,” you paused, and acted as if you were actually considering it, “nope!”
You skipped away and Zoe trailed behind you. As soon as you reached the door, you halted abruptly, causing Zoe to almost fall into you without any sudden warning.
“I think I actually might take a shower,” you rethought, “I’m totally exhausted. Do you think I could spend the night?”
“Definitely,” Zoe responded, “my parents love having you over, ‘cause you,” she curled her fingers into quotation marks, “‘keep Connor sane’ or whatever.”
“Okay,” you snickered, “I’ll tell my folks. Do you have a change of clothes I can borrow?”
“Steal some of Connor’s, I’m sure he won’t mind.”
“But why can’t-”
“No more questions, lady! Now get in that shower before all that red poisons your brain,” she pushed you roughly into the bathroom, and left without a single other word.
You, being left with no other choice, shot your parents a quick text, then stripped down and hopped into the shower. The icy water hit immediately, stinging like bullets into your back, and each drop made you cringe more until the cold subsided into a warmth you could get used to. The hot water blanketed you in a heavy layer of steam and relaxation. Looking down at the floor beneath you, the heavily pigmented, rich red flooded your feet and covered them in a massacre of dye. After rinsing out as much of the color as you could, your hair was left drizzling with pink water.
Picking up the first bottle of shampoo your eyes landed on, you applied a generous amount to your hair, scrunching swirls all over your head, creating a faux hawk, and messing with the foam bubbles while humming a random tune you had gotten stuck in your head. The strawberry scent was very familiar to you in a way you did not know.
The low patter of the water against the floor was very reminiscent of a soft rain. You felt like you could stay there for hours.
The bathroom silenced as you turned off the faucet. The curtains opened with a swish and the chills that hit your body were wrapped tightly with a towel. Making sure it was secured tight around your chest, you ventured into Connor’s room, where you found him laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. You knocked to make sure he knew you were there.
He sat up, and you could see him clearer. His hair had been pulled back into a messy bun, and the blue had been washed clean out. It still looked damp, however a few stray strands frayed their way out. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, most likely because he was getting ready to sleep. The hairs on his chest were prominent against his pale, scrawny, yet toned figure.
“What do you need?” he asked.
“You,” you replied drastically with an elongated pause, taking great satisfaction in watching his face grow wildly red and his eyes widen with shock, before finishing your sentence, “…to get me a pair of clothes to change into.”
“Why can’t you borrow Zoe’s?” he frowned, knitting his eyebrows down bitterly.
“I’m already here,” you tugged up the loosening side of your towel.
Connor just shook his head and tossed you one of his shirts and a pair of pants from the floor.
“Are these clean?” you studied his clothes carefully, hoping not to find any gross stains on them.
“They’re clean enough,” he fell back onto his bed.
Feeling too tired to contradict him, you decided it was fine to just sleep in those clothes. You stepped into his surprisingly spacious closet to allow yourself some privacy. The friction of dry fabric against wet skin proved difficult as you tried to tug on his clothes. After a long and tiresome polyester battle, you were able to burst out of the closet with obvious relief written all over your face.
“I’m gay for Connor Murphy!” you screamed, charging to belly flop on an unsuspecting sprawled out Connor laying in bed.
“What the fu-OOF!” your sudden impact against him nearly knocked the wind out of him.
You scrawled your arms around his bare torso and wrapped your legs round his, intertwining them firmly. You pressed your head deep against his chest, your ear resting above his heart, listening to your favorite sound: the constant beating of his heart.
“Jesus fucking christ,” he mumbled, “you could at least warn a guy.”
He pulled the thin tie out of his hair, then he turned to his right side, and laid you on the plush mattress. He brushed your wet hair off of his chest, seeming displeased by the water that was infecting his white sheets and pillows. You hooked your arm under his own and around and over his shoulder, placing a soft, lingering kiss on his chest.
Connor pulled the covers over the two of you, then placed his hand on your thigh, and inched it upward slowly, as he wrapped his other arm crossing over your back and stroked your side. He pressed a firm kiss against your temple, as you began to doze off.
Connor wasn’t one who usually slept early, but you were a great exception. He felt unusually comfortable and secure as he held you, and observed the current situation intently.
Your body was warm, but to him you were radiating. You were sweating, but to him you were sparkling. You were quietly snoring, but to him you were an angelic choir. His clothes were dirty and wrinkled, but to him you wore them like a model. The constant rising and falling if your chest was a mesmerizing dance that he could watch forever.
And he did.
He gazed at your peaceful resting form until he forgot how to keep his eyes open.
3:28 AM in piercing red light was the first thing Connor saw when he opened his eyes. His room was pitch black other than the digital clock on his bedside table. The lopsided shift in the mattress and the arm hooked loosely around his middle indicated that you were well asleep next to him. He stroked down your arm until he found the palm of your hand. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he glided his thumb over your index finger, feeling over every joint and every small indent. He could feel himself beginning to grin stupidly at your soft touch.
What Connor didn’t know was that his fragile actions had aided in helping you slowly regain your consciousness. Still, you remained silent and motionless, except for a ghost of a smile you had failed to try to hide. It was a habit of Connor’s that you loved so much when he would fiddle with your hands, your hair, your cheeks, and even the hems of the shirts and shorts you wore. In quiet moments like so, it gave you a great time to think about how much you adored his affection. Sure, he wasn’t really verbally affectionate, but any hug or kiss shared between the two of you felt like one of the closest connections that could ever be created between a pair.
Connor wasn’t one for being open and expressive about his feelings so it would be incredibly rare to hear him go on endlessly about why he loved you, but he’d always think about how incredible you are on a daily basis, even if you can annoy the living shit out of him, sometimes.
He liked how you didn’t cower in fear at his very presence. He liked how you could naturally approach him and how you could hold a regular conversation with him without shaking your voice or giving him an uneasy look. He loved how you didn’t mind if he wanted to hold or kiss you, and in fact wanted him to touch you constantly. He loved that no matter how much you two could joke around, you would never bluntly insult him with name calling. And he absolutely loved how trusting enough you were with him to fall asleep on the same bed and not be afraid of all the dark twisted lies that other people would accuse him of.
Something pricked at his throat and his mouth went dry. He squeezed your hand ever so slightly as he shifted to grab the plastic water bottle on his bedside table. In his blind searching, he felt the back of his hand hit cool plastic and a loud impact on the floor.
“Shit,” he whispered, as you tried desperately not to giggle at his pointless clumsiness.
With your eyes still closed, you felt a great shift on the other side of the bed and heard a small click, as the dark shifted to a soft light. You could hear Connor’s feet hit the ground and the low crinkle of the water bottle only to hear it drop again. You expected him to curse again but instead were confused by his eerie silence.
Connor dropped his feet to the floor, picking up his water bottle, then turned around to admire the sleeping beauty on his bed only to have his chest feel heavy and his breathing grow labored as he registered the scene in front of him. He dropped his water bottle, and everything seemed to go in slow motion. The love of his life was laying limp and unconscious on his bed as wet, blood red stains surrounded her head in the pillows. He was so confused and scared, he didn’t know what the hell to do.
“Fuck!” he yelled, running his hands through his hair, and tugging painfully, “Shit, shit, shit, shit…” he mumbled repetitively.
Quickly he leaned over and shook you vigorously by the arm. Your eyes shot open and you jolted completely awake with a tense flinch.
“Connor, what the fuck?” you slurred, stretching your arms outwards, and twisting your torso, letting out a crack that made you cringe.
“What the fuck?” he gestured to the dark red up and down his pillow.
You turned your head to look at what he was talking about, and sections of your now dry hair fell in front of your face. The red illuminated in the lamp light. Connor fell back onto his bed, clutching his head and exhaling loudly, casually mortified albeit relieved. A dopey smile grew on your face as you let out a great laugh, leaning your head into his back.
“It’s not fucking funny,” he grunted. He gripped you by the waist and held you firmly. You hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“It’s kinda funny,” you chuckled.
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he tightened his constricting hold on you and dug his fingernails into your sides. You rubbed circles into his back.
“Hey,” you whispered, “I’m still here and I’m perfectly okay.”
He nodded slowly into the crook of your neck, his hair tickling you slightly. You placed a light kiss in his hair. His limbs were taut around your body.
“You’re so tense,” you shifted him to lay down on the bed.
His grip loosened just slightly as he pulled back to admire you. You were absolutely infatuated with his eyes. Watching his pupils dilate against his colorful irises was like seeing art in motion. His eyes were rimmed with dulled red bags. You leaned your forehead against his own.
“Aren’t you tired?” you questioned.
“Not really,” he mumbled.
You leaned forward to press your lips against his, and he gladly met you halfway. When you parted, you leaned over the edge of the bed to pick up the water bottle on the floor. You handed it to him and he said a quick “thank you”. He took the cap off and just stared at it. You sat confused in silence for a good minute.
“Connor,” you leaned back against the pillows, “take a fucking sip.”
Whatever trance he was in, he seemed to snap out of it because he flinched and downed what was left of the bottle. He threw the empty plastic aside, and dropped his head into your lap. He closed his eyes.
“Fuck,” he said, “I thought I fucking lost you.”
“You actually thought I was gone?” you ran your hands through his hair.
“I know, I know, it’s dumb. Shut up.”
“Aw, it’s not like I died or anything- I mean I just dyed my hair.”
“Oh my fucking god, just shut up about it!”
“Hey, you saw me breath-”
Of course Connor used the cliche “shut you up with a kiss” move. He kissed you fiercely, biting hard against your top lip. You immediately held onto his shoulders, whimpered quietly, then rolling yourself on top of him. He pushed roughly against you, his tongue swirling with yours. You shoved him back, cringing as he hit the headboard. He inhaled sharply, and you pulled away.
“You know,” you gasped as he attacked your neck, working a gentle yet violent demeanor, “it’s funny how you can blackmail me, you can tease me, and you can pretend to hate me when I annoy you,” tears pricked your eyes as he bit down hard on a sensitive spot, proceeding to trail his kisses down your chest, “but just have a little ‘fake blood’ and suddenly you’re all-”
“If you don’t shut up about it then I will make you bleed,” his arms scrambled to touch every dip and crook on your body.
You moved your hands against Connor’s chest and forcefully pried him off of you. He fell back with little restraint. Lifting his head up, he was wheezing as if he’d just ran a marathon. Sitting upright in his lap, you could feel his excitement poking underneath you.
“Listen here, lover boy,” you placed your hands on your thighs and hunched over forward, “First of all, obviously you don’t know, but I’ve already ‘popped my cherry’, alright?” you made quotation marks with your hands. He lifted his head down from the ceiling to you, looking absolutely taken aback.
“Second of all,” you placed your arms on his shoulders as he gripped the bed sheets in a faint panic, “you can make all the sex jokes you want, or spit a shit load of game, but we both know you’ve never gotten it on once.”
Connor held onto his bed sheets so tight he was sure he’d rip the fabric. His eye twitched slightly as he chewed roughly onto his lower lip. He knew he couldn’t defend himself there.
“And third,” you slid your hand down from his shoulders to his elbows, “it is almost four in the morning and your parents are just a couple rooms away. So if you so desperately want this, then it’ll be the most quiet passionate love making in fucking history.”
Connor was absolutely sure he wasn’t thinking at all when he answered you.
“Shit…,” he murmured, “I want this so badly,” he was completely mesmerised by the idea of it with you.
You gaped at him, blinking a couple times before nodding steadily. You pulled yourself off of his lap.
“Okay,” you recollected your thoughts, “do you… have a condom?”
Leaning over to his side, he stretched out his arm to pull open his drawer.
“I’ll be honest,” you could hear the shifting of various items as he searched, “I’ve been planning on this for a while, I just didn’t know when,” he whispered that last part.
You beamed at him, thinking it was so genuine that he wanted you to be his first. He placed the condom beside the two of you. You rested your hands on either of his cheeks, the tips of your fingers curling around his silky locks.
“I’m uh, not really sure what to say,” you sighed, “I know this is new to you and everything, so if it gets too… um, intense, in a way, don’t be afraid to tell me to stop. In fact, don’t be afraid of anything with me because I have my complete faith and trust in you and-”
“Hey, hey,” he cut short your rambling, “You talk way too fucking much. I’m more than ready to do this with you.”
“Right, so,” you shifted your hands to trace his jawline, “can I kiss you?”
“Hell yeah,” Connor closed the gap between the two of you instantly.
Your lips danced in a slow waltz as your noses bumped with every relaxed movement. You could already clearly tell how eager he was for you, but didn’t want to rush into things. A question formed at the back of your mind, and began to wear out your entire thought process.
Connor moved from your lips to your cheeks, along your chin and jaw, and down your throat. You bit your lip to silence a moan and laid your palms flat against his bare chest. The mixture of the warm room and your hot bodies made an easy beginning for sweat. He littered your profile with love bruises and saliva.
“Connor,” you inquired. He mumbled incoherent sounds against the vibration of your vocals, “you,
um, you weren’t mad when I told you I’ve done… this before. Wh-Why is that?”
As he pulled back, you enjoyed the feeling of the rough skin on his thumb caressing your cheekbone. You decided to return the favor as he answered you, leaning in to attach your lips onto his pale neck. He suppressed a low growl.
“There’s no way you could’ve,” he hissed as you reached a sensitive spot, “n-no way you cou-could’ve known that you and I…” he lost his trail of thought as pleasure overcame him.
“You and I?” you questioned in an alluring manner, smiling against his collarbone.
He had to pull back to think straight. You could’ve started giggling at how effortless it was to distract him. You rested your head over his heart as he took a moment to ease his hasty panting. You rubbed his bicep in a way to reassure him to take as much time as he needed to. It didn’t take too long for him to speak up again.
“Your question, uh, back then, there’s really no way you could’ve known that you and I would be together, ya know?”
“I know,” you began to pepper kisses down his chest, “thank you so much for understanding,” you traced the line of hair that lined down to his boxers, “I love you so much, Connor.”
His hands toyed with the hem of your (or rather, his) shirt. You fixed your gaze on him at the sudden contact. He lifted it up ever so slightly.
“Is this okay?” he worried.
“It’s okay.”
He pulled his shirt off of you, discarding it over the side of the bed. Your now bare and newly exposed skin began to spasm with shivers. He was captivated by the sight of you. He blushed as his mouth hung agape in awe.
Every mole, discoloration, bodily hair, dip, and crease made you seem like an absolute masterpiece to him. Sure, he had seen you completely bare before, but now that he knew what was eventually going to happen, he felt so appreciated to know that you had so much assurance that you were willing to intertwine yourselves with no barriers.
Cautiously, Connor lifted his hands, looking to you for a sign that it was okay to proceed. You gave him a curt nod and he placed his hands over your breasts. He began to knead them as if he knew exactly what to do to drive you mad. Holding your mouth shut, you hummed a whimper of satisfaction.
“I know I gave you total shit for not shutting up about this but,” Connor referred to the red hair dye stain incident, “I honestly was so fucking scared.”
Something about the tone he spoke it made something sting in your heart. Either that or he just really knew how to work his way around your chest.
“I really don’t know what the hell I’d do with myself if I actually lost you,” he spilled, grazing his fingers over your sensitive nipples, as groan got caught in your throat, “You make me feel safe and cared for, respected and loved in a way I never knew existed.”
He applied more pressure, pushing you down to lay flat against the bed. Your hands found their way comfortably into his hair, tugging lightly as he hovered over you. He pressed lazy kisses all over your middle.
“You don’t put my flaws in front of me,” he murmured against your stomach, the movement of his lips tickling your tender skin, “fuck, you don’t treat me like an outcast. The way you talk and touch me, makes me feel normal; makes me feel wanted.”
You almost swore you could hear his voice crack and falter. Sweat grew heavier on your body when he started sucking and biting down on any bit of flesh he could reach.
“Connor,” was all you could utter before your mind scrambled and you grew light-headed. All you could do was look up and breathe. Your heart was beating like a drum against your chest, it felt like it could just pop out at any given moment.
With the few nerves you gained control over, you weakly hoisted yourself up, Connor removing himself from you. His face played an expression of fear he might’ve made you too uncomfortable.
You slipped your thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, which he whispered for you to take off. Sliding off the last article of clothing keeping him from being completely exposed to you, his length sprung up.
“I’m so ready for you,” you flushed a deep red. You guided his hands to the pants you were wearing begging him with your trembling arms to discard what left you had on you.
“You make me feel so fucking happy,” Connor took no time to rid you of his pants and your undergarments.
Admiring your lower region, he mumbled, “Holy fucking shit.”
You drew him in for one more hot, fervent kiss. As much as he loved the feeling of your tender lips on his slightly chapped own, he was incredibly impatient. When you finally pulled off of him, you took the condom that had been lying beside the two of you and removed it from its wrapper.
You pinched the tip and rolled it onto his eager self, noticing his squirming under your touch. Situating yourself over his lap, you rested your forehead against his before requesting one last confirmation.
“Are you,” you rifled through your vocabulary for the right words to say, “Are you okay?”
You didn’t expect him to shake his head ‘no’.
“Fuck,” he snarled, “I want to make you feel as loved as you make me.”
“Trust me,” you ran your fingers over his cheek, “you do.”
And with that, you sank yourself down onto him, the both of you letting loose a cacophony of groans and grunts. Connor lifted his hips to meet yours, his whole body giving in to vigorous tremors as your walls clenched tightly around him. Tears stung your eyes as you rotated your hips onto him comfortably. Your spine tensed up in trembles as you raised yourself gently.
You stimulated movement, leaning against and off of him, as he thrusted in synch with you. Something clawed at your throat, begging you to scream, but instead you let out a meek cry. A tear fell from the corner of your eye.
Connor gingerly pressed his lips to yours, as you let out your moans as silently as you could. Grabbing him by the face as he you around your torso, you felt tears flooding your hands. You parted for a split-second to take a look at him. Hot tears were trailing down his face, and you leaned back in quickly, pulling him affectionately into another kiss.
The both of you tried miserably to choke back any noise but couldn’t help but be sympathetic to one another as your bodies moved at a gradually increasing rate. Sweat beaded over you like rain. the knot in your core grew tighter and tighter until it became too much to bear.
Slurs of ‘I love you’s, and mumbles of each other’s names transferred back and forth between you two until the chain was broken by a strangled moan and a staggered gasp.
Connor was first to release himself, but not a few moments later, you began to lose yourself over him. You rode out your highs, bouncing slower against each other with every passing minute. You felt like collapsing.
You and Connor were both exhausted. Your bodies were wrapped intricately like a complicated knot: leg around leg, hand in hair, and arm over shoulder. You felt a powerful burning inside you as you tamed your breath.
“Damn,” you exhaled, “are you sure you haven’t done this before? You seriously seem to know what you’re doing.”
He let out a raspy chuckle, his voice low and husky.
“I guess I know you all too well,” he kissed your forehead.
You hummed, “Well, I’m glad you do.”
Shifting yourself close to him, you didn’t care if you were burning your ass off, or if you were sweating like swine. It felt right to be as close to him as possible.
“By the way, red is such a beautiful color on you”