𐙚 “Don’t Stop” - Wang Yixiang 𐙚
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (f receiving), Fingering, Squirting, Overstimulation, Semi-possessive/dom behavior, Dirty talk, Praise kink, Light physical control
It starts slow, like it always does with him.
The room’s quiet, the lights dimmed to a soft amber wash from the hallway, and the sheets are still warm from when the two of you climbed in an hour ago. Nicholas lies behind you, shirtless, one arm tucked under your pillow, the other draped across your waist. There’s no rush in the way he breathes. No urgency. His fingers are just barely grazing the hem of the oversized shirt you threw on before bed — his, of course, worn and thin and soft enough to forget it’s even there.
Your bodies fit like muscle memory.
This isn’t new — this calm, sleepy closeness. You’re both warm, still, half-tangled under the blankets, and for a while, it’s just that. His thumb strokes over your hipbone lazily, not going anywhere. You hum and press back against him a little, not really thinking.
And that’s when you feel it.
A little shift. A subtle press of his hips. The faintest tension in his grip where it holds your stomach.
His voice is still rough from how close he was to sleep, but his hand is moving now — lower, slower, slipping just beneath the edge of the shirt you’re wearing.
You go still. His palm flattens over your lower belly, and his thumb drifts even lower, brushing right where your waistband would’ve been… if you were wearing any.
“You’re not wearing panties.”
You smile into the pillow. “You just now noticed?”
He lets out a low laugh — not surprised, more like… pleased. His voice drops when he speaks again, closer to your ear now. “You always do this shit to me on purpose.”
His hand dips fully between your thighs. You’re already warm there — slick and soft, your body betraying you before he’s even touched you properly. The tip of his finger slides right between your folds, and the second it does, you twitch.
Then he does it again. Slower this time.
You shift your leg slightly to give him more room without realizing it, and he hums behind you, lips brushing your shoulder.
You breathe out a shaky laugh, cheeks hot. “It’s your fault.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
He kisses your neck. His hand moves again, a little firmer, dragging through the slick that’s already gathered between your thighs.
He inhales deeply, like he’s trying to stay calm. Then you feel his hard length nudge up behind you under the blanket — slow, deliberate, fully there now — and your body responds instantly, clenching around nothing.
His voice is darker this time. “Turn over.”
You roll onto your back without a word.
Nicholas shifts with you, bracing one hand beside your head and tugging the blanket down to your hips with the other. His eyes trail from your flushed face to the curve of your thighs, then lower, to where the hem of the shirt has ridden up. His palm drags along your bare leg, warm and rough and confident.
He doesn’t say anything for a beat.
Then he leans in, kisses you slow, and murmurs against your lips—
He doesn’t wait for a response.
Nicholas kisses you again — deeper this time, slower, like he’s trying to savor how easy it is to get you like this. His hand slides down your thigh, then between your legs, knuckles brushing the sensitive spot where you’re already wet and wanting. He shifts lower on the bed, head dipping below your navel, lips tracing over the dip of your stomach like he’s marking the path he’s about to take.
It barely leaves your lips before his mouth is on you.
He spreads your legs apart and pushes them open with both hands, then licks a broad, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit — and you gasp, spine arching clean off the bed.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, already drunk on the taste. “You’re so wet.”
Your hand finds the back of his head without thinking, fingers tangling in his hair as he groans into you. His tongue circles your clit lazily, teasing at first — then faster, flatter, more deliberate — until your legs start to shake. He sucks it into his mouth and moans, and your hips jerk up into him.
He pulls back just enough to look up at you, mouth and chin glistening.
“You’re gonna come just like this, huh?” His voice is hoarse now, low and urgent. “Haven’t even gotten my fingers back in you yet.”
You nod, barely breathing.
“Good,” he says. “Then give it to me.”
His fingers slide in with almost no resistance — two at once, smooth and thick and deep. He curls them the moment he’s inside, and your entire body jolts.
He groans like he’s the one feeling it. “That’s it.”
The way he moves is precise — like he knows exactly what he’s looking for. His tongue is back on your clit in tandem, fucking you with his fingers while his mouth drives you closer with every stroke.
You can’t think. Can’t speak. Your thighs keep trying to close, but he shoves them wide with his forearm and pins you open.
“Don’t run,” he murmurs, hot against your skin. “Let me have it.”
The pressure is building fast — faster than normal. There’s a tight, heated ache rising in your core that doesn’t feel like your usual orgasm. It’s deeper, heavier. You squirm under him, moaning brokenly, and he doesn’t slow down.
You manage to gasp, “Nick, I—I don’t know—wait—”
He looks up at you again, sweat starting to bead at his temple.
“I don’t—” Your voice cuts off in a high-pitched sound as his fingers drag over that same spot again, and your hips jerk. “Something feels… different.”
Nicholas slows for half a second, just enough to study your face.
You nod, breath stuttering.
His expression darkens — not with concern, but curiosity. He kisses the inside of your thigh, then goes right back to it — same spot, same rhythm, faster this time.
“Let it happen,” he growls. “Whatever it is, let it.”
Your stomach tightens. Your legs start to tremble. The feeling keeps rising, sharper now, uncontrollable, and you try to speak — to warn him, to beg him to slow down — but your mouth won’t form the words.
You claw at the sheets instead.
Your body seizes, hips bucking violently as a sudden, hot gush of wetness pours out of you — not just dripping, but gushing, pulsing out of you in rhythmic waves that splatter across his hand and your thighs and the ruined sheets beneath you.
You cry out, loud and raw, both hands flying to cover your face.
For just a beat, the room goes still.
You peek out between your fingers, heart pounding, body still twitching. He’s still between your legs, fingers glistening, mouth parted in awe as he stares at you like you just rewrote physics.
You’re too embarrassed to respond.
“Was that—” He cuts himself off, eyes flicking to the soaked sheets. “Did you just squirt?”
You nod, barely, eyes wide.
He blinks. Then breathes out a stunned, breathless laugh.
Nicholas doesn’t move at first.
He just stares — at you, at his soaked hand, at the mess coating your thighs and the dark patch spreading across the sheets beneath you. His lips are parted, his chest rising fast, and for a second, he looks like he doesn’t even know what to say.
And then he licks his fingers.
Slowly. Deliberately. His tongue drags along the length of them, savoring the slick as if it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. His eyes don’t leave yours the entire time.
You whimper, overwhelmed, body still trembling. “Nick—”
His hand is already sliding back up your thigh. “You’ve never done that before.”
You shake your head, panting. “No, I—I didn’t know I could—”
He lets out a sound — not quite a groan, not quite a laugh. Something low and dark and wrecked.
“Jesus,” he murmurs. “You didn’t even know.”
You glance down — the mess between your legs, the ruined sheets, his soaked chest. You try to close your thighs, embarrassed.
Nicholas catches them immediately.
“Don’t,” he says, voice rough. “Don’t hide from me.”
His hands spread your thighs open again, wide and firm, until you’re fully exposed in front of him — still twitching, still dripping, still messy from what just happened. He stares at your pussy like it’s glowing, like he’s never seen anything so fucking perfect in his life.
“Look at this.” His voice drops to a growl. “You made a mess all over me.”
You turn your face away, flushed, too wrecked to speak — but he leans over you, grabs your chin, and forces you to look at him.
“No,” he whispers. “Don’t get shy on me now. You know what that did to me?”
You blink up at him, dazed.
He grabs your wrist and presses your hand to his cock — thick and hard and soaked at the tip.
“This is what you do to me.”
You moan softly, fingers curling around him.
But before you can say a word, he’s already moving — shifting lower, gripping your thighs again and dragging your hips closer to the edge of the mattress.
“I need to see it again.”
Your breath catches. “Wait—Nicholas—”
“I’m serious.” He looks up at you, eyes blazing. “I need it. I need to see it again.”
He sounds ruined. Starved. Like something in him snapped the second you soaked his hand.
“You’re mine,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You gave that to me. That means I get more.”
He licks you once, slow and deliberate, then slides two fingers back inside you with no warning.
He groans. “Still so fucking wet. You feel that, baby? You’re leaking for me.”
He fucks his fingers into you, deeper this time, curling up to find that same spot again — the one that had you unraveling minutes ago.
“Don’t hold back,” he growls. “I want every fucking drop.”
You squirm, thighs already shaking, nerves lit up like fire. He’s focused now — obsessed — moving his fingers fast and steady, his other hand spreading you wider while his mouth trails heat along your inner thigh.
“Gonna make you do it again,” he murmurs. “Right here, right now. Gonna make you gush for me, baby.”
Your head falls back. Your back arches. The sound of wetness fills the room — slick and obscene — and Nicholas moans low in his throat like he can’t take it.
“You hear that?” he pants. “That’s your pussy, baby. That’s what it sounds like when you’re dripping all over me.”
Your fingers grip the sheets so tightly they cramp.
You can’t stop it — the heat building again, somehow faster than before. Your body’s not used to this, doesn’t know what to do with the way he’s fucking you open, not letting up, muttering filthy praise under his breath while he watches your body unravel beneath him.
“I didn’t even know I could do that,” you whimper.
Nicholas groans, teeth grazing your thigh.
“You think I’m gonna stop now that I know you can?”
“You think I’m gonna stop when I haven’t even seen how far I can push you?”
You cry out, hips twitching, whole body clenching around his fingers.
“Fuck—there you go—c’mon, baby, give it to me again—”
You squirt again, harder this time — gushing uncontrollably, your thighs jerking as another wave pours out of you, soaking his hand, the sheets, his arms, everything.
Nicholas groans like he’s coming just from seeing it.
“God damn, baby—look at that—fucking look at it—”
You can’t. Your eyes are glassy, your body limp, twitching through the aftershocks while he leans back to admire the wreckage.
He looks up at you — wild, glassy-eyed. “I can’t stop.”
“Nick—” You sound broken, but you don’t tell him to stop. You can’t.
He pulls his fingers out suddenly, coated and dripping, and you gasp at the empty, aching space he leaves behind. Before you can even blink, his hands are on your hips, hauling you closer to the edge of the mattress. His cock slides against your soaked entrance, thick and hot and so ready, smearing wetness up and down your folds.
“Fuck,” he growls. “Feel how wet you are? That’s all you.”
But he’s already pushing in.
The stretch knocks the breath out of you. He’s big, always has been, and you’re so sensitive now that the first inch feels like too much. You moan high and raw, nails raking at his forearms as he sinks deeper and deeper until his hips are flush with yours.
Nicholas drops his forehead to yours and groans.
“Christ,” he pants. “You’re gripping me so fucking tight.”
You whimper, squirming under him. “You just— you just made me—”
“I know.” He pulls out a little, then pushes back in, slow but steady. “I want to feel it while I’m inside you.”
He thrusts again — a little harder, a little deeper — and your eyes roll back. Your body’s still twitching from the overstimulation of his fingers, every nerve on fire. He watches your reaction like a predator tracking prey.
“You’re gonna gush for me again,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “Right on my cock.”
Your thighs try to close but he grabs them, spreading you wider, fucking you slow but relentless. His thumb finds your clit and rubs circles around it, sending shocks up your spine with every stroke.
“Oh my god—Nick—” You’re gasping, arching, clenching around him so hard it makes him curse under his breath.
“That’s it,” he growls. “Soaked and dripping all over me. You’re gonna do it again.”
He speeds up. The wet slap of skin fills the room — slick, obscene, your juices running down your ass onto the ruined sheets. He tilts his hips to grind into that spot inside you, the one that made you gush before.
He grips your jaw with his free hand, making you look at him.
“Look at me when you do it.”
Your breath catches. “Nick—”
“C’mon, baby,” he pants, eyes locked on yours. “Show me. Give it to me.”
He thrusts faster, deeper, his thumb circling your clit with cruel precision until your whole body starts to spasm. The pressure builds sharp and heavy in your core, the same alien, uncontrollable ache from before, only stronger now with him inside you.
“Yes, you can. Right on me.”
He grits his teeth, hips slamming into yours, thumb relentless on your clit.
A gush of liquid bursts out of you, splattering between your thighs, running down his cock. Nicholas groans loud and ragged, nearly bending in half as he watches it coat him.
“Holy fuck,” he snarls. “You’re squirting on me—”
You’re shaking, overwhelmed, but he doesn’t stop. He pulls out halfway, watches more liquid drip down his length, then slams back in with a sound that makes both of you moan.
“Again,” he growls. “Don’t stop now.”
He fucks you harder, his thumb back on your clit, dragging wetness up over your stomach and smearing it across your skin like he’s marking you.
“Messy little thing,” he murmurs. “Look at this mess you’re making on me.”
You’re incoherent, trembling, legs quivering against his sides, but your body keeps responding to him. The slick sound of your pussy around his cock is almost deafening, each thrust wetter and louder than the last.
“One more,” he pants, eyes wild. “One more for me.”
He tilts his hips again, grinding deep against your sweet spot while his thumb circles your clit. You’re crying now, tears sliding down your temples, hands clinging to his biceps as if you’ll fly apart if you don’t hold on.
“Yes, you can,” he breathes against your mouth. “You’re gonna soak me again.”
You scream and convulse as another gush explodes out of you, this time with him fully inside you. It spills down both of you, soaking his thighs, the sheets, everything. Nicholas swears loudly, almost a growl, feeling it gush around his cock.
“Fuck, baby—fuck—” he moans, hips still pumping as you drench him. “You’re unreal—”
You’re gone. Boneless. Twitching. Barely able to breathe.
He pulls out slowly, watching more wetness pour down from you onto the sheets, and strokes himself once, groaning at the sight.
“Never seen anything like you,” he mutters, breathless. “Never felt anything like this.”
He leans over you, kisses your mouth, still rocking his hips between your thighs as if he can’t stop.
“Look at me,” he whispers.
Nicholas stays inside you for a long moment after the last gush, chest pressed to yours, both of you shaking from the intensity. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot and uneven. You can feel his cock still pulsing against your walls, but his hips are finally still.
You do — shaky, broken inhales that smell like sweat and sex. Your hands are still fisted in his shoulders, your thighs trembling against his sides. Everything between your legs feels wet and open, every nerve buzzing.
He kisses your temple once, then slowly, carefully pulls out. A thick, wet sound follows him and you whimper from the loss. He looks down at where you’re lying and actually laughs under his breath.
“Look at this bed,” he says, voice hoarse. “Look at what you did.”
You hide your face with your hands, embarrassed. “Don’t—”
He catches your wrists gently and pulls them down.
“Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, softer now. “You’re perfect like this.”
His hands stroke up your thighs, over your hips, spreading the wetness without shame. Then he reaches for the towel you keep at the edge of the bed and starts wiping you down with slow, careful motions. Every touch is light, soothing, completely different from the way he was moving minutes ago.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
You nod, still dazed. “Yeah…”
He smiles, wiping the inside of your thighs, then tossing the towel aside. “Good girl.”
Nicholas stretches out next to you and pulls you into his chest. His skin is warm and damp, his heartbeat still fast under your ear. He tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses the top of your head.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” he murmurs.
You shake your head against his chest. “Neither did I.”
He chuckles, low and pleased. “Guess I just unlocked a new level.”
You swat at him weakly, but he catches your hand and presses it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles.
“I’m still hard, you know,” he says, voice turning dark again for a second. “And all I can think about is how you felt when you squirted on me.”
You shiver at the tone, but he just hugs you tighter.
“Not now,” he whispers. “Now I’m gonna hold you until you stop shaking.”
His thumb strokes lazy circles on your hip. “But later…” His lips brush your ear. “Later, I’m going to see how many times I can make you do it again.”
You melt into his chest, exhausted, a little stunned, but safe in the circle of his arms.
And for the first time all night, Nicholas is still.
…..…….……………………….…..:><:………………………………………
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