Ok so i havent seen anyone thinking abt ada and ingrid and like,, i just need everyone to consider how interesting their dynamic would be, esp if theyre put into a circumstance where they have to work together
Warning: Lots of instances of boys being irritating and not taking turns with the talking stick. This is for the more mature audiences, heyyyy 😛 Part One
Word Count: 5,849, Collie Parker x Reader; this is like 18 whole pages on Google Docs, eat up, my darlings.
You spent the next weekend with his family for a huge get-together; aunts and uncles from other cities, cousins and their kids from nearby states. Getting invited to their family reunion as someone not part of the family seemed like it was a big deal; to you, anyway, Collie didn’t agree.
“It’s a celebration of family, yes,” he had explained. “But it’s friends, too. Or friends that are like family. Which you are.”
You were so touched by this assertion, you couldn't find it in you to make fun of him and the earnestness he displayed from time to time.
It was wild how outwardly happy his family made him. And loud! Actually, everyone was incredibly loud, and you gritted your teeth at the crescendoing levels of noise, but there were no complaints coming from you. As much as they all clearly loved each other, his family’s energy was infectious and you felt it sinking into your very being.
“This is Collie’s friend,” his younger brother said to a great aunt, taking it upon himself to introduce you before Collie could. “She’s a girl and she’s very nice.” The larger woman, the great aunt, nodded in understanding and you tried not to be intimidated as she seemed to appraise you. Nobody outright asked you the nature of your relationship with Collie-–although, raised eyebrows and slight pauses seemed to imply some curiosity—and you thanked God and Jesus for that. You didn’t have an answer and didn’t want to produce one, either.
Sat at a picnic table on the house's side porch, his older sister recounts to their cousins how weird she finds you guys. That sometimes she’ll try to surprise you guys in the basement hoping to catch you doing something untoward, but no, it has yet to happen.
(“Anna! How does that make us the weird ones?” Collie had countered.)
She’s snuck up on you two a few times and usually, it’ll just be you guys reading two different books quietly next to each other on the couch. Or playing cards. Or putting Fuckface—her own nickname for the squat doggy—into a child’s costume and laughing your asses off at the sight of his dog walking around in Dracula’s cape.
Thankfully, another cousin pulls out a guitar and the conversation turns to song requests and boo’s and jeers at each other’s song choices.
You had so much fun that day that you forgot to even keep track of the time, but the sun melting in the kitchen window meant you had been at their house for hours. So long that you even had to take a little cat nap to recover from the hastily drunken Chardonnay and Fireball nippers sneaked in by his cousins.
People were leaving now. Collie’s mom was pleased when you began clearing up the table in the living room without being asked to. His mother hugged you tightly and told you that you are a lovely girl. She’d like to see more of you. It’s like she’s working up to saying goodbye, now go away; so you take that as your cue to leave, too.
You put your coat on and looked at Collie. He nodded his head, indicating that he would be following you out.
It was the end of the night, darkness had fallen by now and the blue-black hue everything had taken on was haunting and magical. You both were so, so tired. Social battery running on fumes.
You mean to hug before parting ways. Tried to part ways. This hug is different. There is an energy here.
You are not sure why this is happening or why it’s happening now; however, you are pressing your bodies against each other and holding that position for longer than the standard 3-second hug. It’s a lot different from napping together on opposite ends of a couch, legs pressed together, underneath a blanket with his dog. This is deliberate intimacy.
When he speaks, you don’t hear him so much as you feel the vibrations in your chest coming from his own.
“Want me to drive you home?”
“Nah, I can walk.”
“Y’sure?”
“M’sure.”
Silence. You hadn’t let each other go yet.
Your grip around him slackened before tightening again, gently placing your hands at his shoulder blades. The muscles underneath his scapula shifted under your hands as he moved his arms lower from your waist to your hips, wrist relaxed on your side, his chin rested on your shoulder. You sighed, fully melting into his hug. Smelling his hair. Might as well get comfortable.
You do break off eventually. And underneath the glowing light of a street lamp, you regard him in a way you hadn’t before. You never entertained the idea of him liking you back like that; still, his eyes radiated want and desire.
“I had fun today.” You declared, taking a step back. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Anytime.” He says it softly, and there’s something there that is starting to reveal itself to you.
“Good night, Collie.”
“Good night.”
He watches your retreating figure until the lines and shapes that make up you begin to blend in with the night. He doesn’t go back inside right away, electing to stay in the membrane of your shared moment and contemplate intrusive trains of thought, both compelling and troubling.
—
What a perversely interesting and illuminating night this was turning out to be.
In all other environments you had observed him in, this was the most unexpected.
At school, he was quiet, only opening up bit by bit over time. With you, he was comfortable and relaxed. With his family, he was open and wonderful.
Now with his friends—all male; some boys he plays basketball with, some he met through various community events–he was especially louder and boisterous this evening amongst like company. A constant smile on his face. More vulgar language from him than you’re used to hearing. It didn’t bother or shock you; even so, your ears pricked up at every emphatic, “Fuck,” or some other invective. Relentless ribbing and back-and-forth roasting and razzing each other.
In a field full of massive trucks and badly-parked sedans with a crackling bonfire going strong, the first party of the summer after graduation was kicking off. To see him among a boys-only group was to see him anew. This was fascinating, like you were some ethnographer studying the socialization rituals of Collie Parker and his friends. Even weirder, nobody referred to him by his first name, only calling him Parker. In fact, a lot of them addressed each other mostly by their last names. First names, seldom.
Similar to his family, these friends, a rag-tag group of teenage boys, are excited to meet you. You might have felt like royalty the way they were fawning over you, forming a line to figuratively kiss your ring as you sat bewildered in a folding chair that was slowly sinking into the ground. It was highly embarrassing and after a pleading look from you, Collie threatened them with a, “Act normal, assholes,” and that calmed the noise a little bit.
“Stop being weird,” he scolded them again when Olson cut him off.
“Parker, fucking c’mon! You haven’t told us shit about her and—”
“That’s true,” another boy with black, square glasses added. “You’ve blown us off so many times. We want to know about this girl you refuse to tell us about.”
“Well, he’s told me about her—”
Collie presses a finger to his lips, willing them to shut the fuck up. “I never blew you guys off.”
A maddening overlapping chorus of “Yes, you did!” and “Stop lying, bro!”
An admonishing voice laughs bitterly. “Oh, now you want to act different in front of her. Okay! Fine!”
“Yeah, you fucking blew us off at least like…four times!”
“Four goddamn times!”
“You did, Parker, you really did!”
Of all his friends, Pete McVries is the funniest and he might be your favorite. He is the more antagonistic of the boys, it was hard to tell where he drew the line of joking to straight up rebuking a person.
Over the evening, you do drift away from each other and you find your way into the improvised kitchen/bar area. You are contemplating on crafting a truly unholy mixture of Tequila and Mountain Dew. You can hear Collie’s voice coming from the other side of the bonfire which is already loud so he must be yelling.
“Mind your fuckin’ business!”
Followed by someone’s muffled reply.
Then Collie’s irritated tone again, “Fucking say shit like that to me again, I’ll beat the goddamn breaks off you, boy!”
Later, you are driving him home and you ask him about it. He shrugs it off.
“Barkovitch being a goddamn menace.”
You arch an eyebrow, urging him to go on.
“It was nothing.” He maintains, trying to keep his tone aloof.
“Why do I feel like that’s not true?”
“Feel how you like, nothing happened.” The shadow around his face increases.
“All right. Okay.” You put your hands up in a surrender motion. Collie gets icy sometimes and it was always best to just change the subject.
“McVries doesn’t seem to like that guy much.” That guy meaning Barkovitch. That’s who you’re pretty sure Collie was yelling at.
“Pete doesn’t like anyone.”
“Do you like the Barkovitch guy? I could hardly tell.”
He weighs this for a moment. “I go back and forth on it. Depends on the day. Depends on him shutting the fuck up.”
—
He puts a warm hand on your shoulder as he bids you goodnight. You smile and salute him. As you are in the habit of watching him get inside safely before driving off, you wait as he shuffles to the door. Good thing you did wait because—
“Shit!” He rattled the door knob. Then tapped his pockets. Nothing. “Fuck.”
He walked back over to you and hung his head in your window. “I think I’m locked out.”
“What?” You almost shout.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “I am.”
“And your mom isn’t home yet?”
“Gonna have to sleep outside.” He muttered, kicking his boot at nothing.
“No, you’re not.” You lean over to open the passenger door. “Get back in here.”
—-
This was not something that friends did.
Okay, sure maybe they can theoretically, hypothetically sleep in the same bed; and that is what was transpiring in your bedroom right now, but it’s not like this was going to lead into anything untoward. Having said that, no, you didn’t let your guardian know Collie was sneaking through the kitchen door to sleep over. What they didn't know…
Collie was locked out, okay? You didn’t plan for him to lose his house keys in some cow pasture. You weren’t going to blame the moon for not being bright enough so he could find them again.
All you know is that it’s late, you’re tired, and your bed is big enough for the two of you.
None of this bullshit oh, I’ll sleep on the floor, no! You’d feel like such a jerk if you made him sleep on the floor. And you certainly weren’t sleeping on the floor, either.
This was all well and good. Perfectly fine.
However, you took a moment to step outside of yourself and look down from a ceiling vantage point. Collie looked right at home, glorious head of hair on your pillow, and had basically started to spoon you. You were not only allowing it, but enjoying it. It took so much time for you to be comfortable with physical contact or affection, and not just with him but with anyone, and it honestly felt nice. You were too high to do anything but cherish it.
This was not sexy, by any means. He was wearing your Victoria’s Secret sweatpants, for fucks sake. And was almost shirtless but that was just because he preferred it that way over wearing your Cookie Monster hoodie.
You were gonna pass out soon and he was just in his undershirt and oh god the bear claw necklace chain was cold against the back of your neck mixed with the heat coming off him. He smelled like burnt wood and sweat.
What came out of your mouth wasn’t the enchanting seductress bit you had in mind to say, but something more vulnerable and genuine.
“You’re my best friend, Collie,” you murmured. “I just adore you. Really glad you’re in my life.”
You mumbled this last bit as you nearly accepted sleep’s waiting embrace and turned into his arm, placing your head on his chest. His bumping heart carried you the rest of the way.
He placed a tender hand on the small of your back and smiled into your hair. “Yeah. Me, too.”
—-
He got a gig in construction for the summer working for a family friend’s uncle’s cousin. The plan was for community college in the fall.
He looked so fucking hot in the tool belt they had him wear, slung low on his hips; the gray undershirt soaked in the days sweat. You couldn’t look at him directly or for too long because you were sure you would start to resemble some really horny cartoon wolf with a comically huge heart beating through your shirt.
All summer long, you two continue to hangout, more touchy-feely as the days went past, never speaking on it, just doing what felt right. There were no objections from either of you. Even if his hands were sometimes covered in dried plaster.
You became more of a presence among hangouts with his male friends. He didn’t seem to want to share you with them, only relenting when their whining got particularly too much to handle. One afternoon, Collie feels he needs to set them straight.
“Look, guys,” he said, clasping his hands together. “She’s working. I’m working. You all are working. It’s a busy time. Can’t always play with you boys all the time.”
It’s a fucking clown car of idiots shouting at him: “Yes, you can!”
“Parker, play with us!”
“Work is over, Parker, now it’s time to play, my boy!” (That one was Baker, the most excitable of all of them.)
“Bring the pretty girl back or we riot at dawn!”
“Bring her around again or I swear–!”
Garraty playfully shouts over everyone, “Stop hoarding her!” and this draws an adroit glare from Collie.
“What the fuck?” Collie. “She’s not yours, she ain’t mine to hoard, fucking get over your-fucking-selves.”
“I don’t think that’s true, buddy boy.” McVries says, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “I saw you.”
“What’s not true?” Collie barks back. “The fuck did you see?”
“What’d you see, Pete?” Harkness asks, ready for the scoop.
McVries inhaled deeply and dramatically before starting, “I saw him—” pointing at Collie accusingly, “and—” but got quickly cut off by the other boy's commotion.
“I saw them, too!” Olson chimes in. He jabs a finger in Collie’s face. “You fucking moron, you goddamn rube! You think we couldn’t see that you just disappeared together for a long period of time. Probably out there fucking against a tree for all we knew. Now, granted, I don’t blame you, she’s a real looker—”
Collie wants to rip Olson’s hat off his head and stomp on it. His whole fucking head.
“Don’t you say it! Don’t you fucking dare—” But it’s Stebbins chiming in next that quiets him.
“If you don’t think she’s yours already, you are indeed a fucking moron.” Stebbins accounts, matter-of-factly.
“It’s plain as fucking day, my guy,” Garraty agrees, nodding along to Stebbins’ commentary. “That girl likes you and wants to fuck you. I am sure of it.”
“Right,” Baker agrees. “It’s all in the eyes. Her eyes are only for you. Trust me, man.”
“Are you some kind of fucking idiot that you don’t know this by now?” McVries questions with a huge smile on his face.
The boys collectively murmur in agreement.
This ritual humiliation, this collective jumping, mutual curb-stomping of Collie Parker was nourishing McVries’ soul. “She’s never tried to–? You’ve never–?”
At Collie’s silence, McVries yells and slaps his own forehead, “The fuck is wrong with you, stupid!”
“No. Nope. Enough of this.” Collie waves away their comments like buzzing mosquitoes. “Shut your fucking mouths.”
“Well, if you’re not gonna go there,” Barkovitch raises his hand like it’s fucking school or something. “Can I…?”
McVries slaps Barkovitch upside the head before Collie can get to him.
—
One evening when the whiskey was ample and generously poured, it went straight to your head. And to your cunt.
You kept thinking back to that unusually passionate hug that occurred after attending his family’s reunion. And then when you had slept in the same bed together.
Collie’s body was so warm, his scent so virile; his arms so toned underneath your daring grip.
The next time we hug, I fear I will have no control over myself. I may start dry humping his thigh or something crazy like that.
Actually, that was an irresistibly appealing idea. Now you thought it, that’s exactly what you wanted to do.
He looked so handsome tonight. You quietly gasped when you saw him earlier that night. With his hair loose, free, and endlessly being picked up by the hot summer winds. Tanned shoulders and powerful biceps. The color black really suited him and his black jeans along with the silver belt buckle kept drawing your eye. You just wanted to reach over, kneel on the ground like the most pious parishioner, unbuckle and start to—
You had gotten very quiet, Collie noticed. You had even separated yourself from the group, going off to sit quietly by yourself.
He was a bit drunk, but he knew you were further along than him because he always subconsciously monitored everything you did. He’d seen you visit the impromptu bar a few more times without him.
I could give her space or I could…go and bother her? Yeah. Collie liked the second idea.
Collie appears next to you like a shadow, leaning against the metal frame of the truck. He moved to your right side to see you better, avoiding your swinging legs as you kicked absently back and forth atop your seat on someone’s open tailgate.
“You good?”
“I’m so good.” You say unequivocally and he laughs.
“Glad to hear it.”
“Are you good?” You counter.
“I’m great.” He gives a little shrug, like him being great is the most obvious thing in the world.
Moments of content silence. Comfortable. You wanted to puncture it.
“Collie?”
“Hmm?” He says it in a humorous way and you felt for him, pitying him. You were about to shatter the vibe in a major way.
“How come you’ve never tried to kiss me?”
His eyes are the widest you’ve ever seen them. “What?”
He immediately eyes the figures around the bonfire suspiciously. If one of those fatherfuckers said something to her, I swear—
“Where’s this coming from?”
“It’s coming from the fact that I want you to kiss me.” You say it so matter of factly, he’s not sure if you're joking. You are joking. Right…?
“You s—?”
“Ask me if I’m fuckin’ sure, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Wouldn’t want that.” He lifted himself onto the tailgate next to where you sat and set his cup down somewhere on the truck bed. “Well, all right, then.”
You pull him close by his jacket collar and lean in, not quite closing the gap between you two. He looks at your lips, your eyes, then back to your lips. You are the surest he’s ever seen you.
The first kiss is chaste, delicate. The second even more so. He gently touches your jaw and presses his lips against yours firmly.
Your hands make their way to his back, running the length of his spine and grabbing handfuls of his jacket as you deepen the kiss. You want to savor this moment, but you also need him in a bad way.
Under the whiskey’s influence your limbs move much more fluidly than when not inebriated. Normally, you are tense and skittish at the best of times. Collie almost doesn’t believe this is the same person as you melt into his arms, caress his sides, and match his energy.
Your chest presses against his and your fingers steeple through that incredible hair. You want to yank it, and then decide that might not be a very nice thing to do. But his hand follows your hand gripped in his hair and he gives it a light squeeze, like he’s reading your mind and giving you permission.
Not only do you then gently yank on a strand of his hair, causing his head to go back and expose his neck, but as you start to break the kiss, you capture his lower lip between your teeth, raking your incisors across it, not quite pressing down. The promise of a bite makes you both shudder.
You let him go and move down to kissing his chin and jaw. He tries to follow you, wanting your lips back, however, you’re on a mission. He’s moaning now and it’s a sound that makes your thighs contract. You snack on his neck and when you get to his larynx and kiss that, too, before sucking a little dark mark on it, his moans turn desperate. His eyes, heady and black, flash at the arousal this causes to course through his body.
He brings you back to where he can face you and looks into your own eyes feral with lust. Collie tilts his head to the right and directs his tongue to slide past your lips. Can’t help from moaning now, you respond in kind. He grabs at your hair so he can keep you where he wants you and you have to start grinding against the seam of your pants to get some kind of relief.
You’d like very much to jump his bones, but you are very aware you are outdoors and while you have a private moment now, people are gonna mosey on over and inevitably interrupt.
You break away but your foreheads meet, pressing against the other, taking a moment, breathing each other’s air. You had initially just wanted to kiss him, but the whore in you was ready to fuck him right here.
“You want to take this somewhere else?” He whispers.
“God, yes,” But then reality makes you consider it again. “I really want to. But I don’t know… Let’s just stay here. Is that okay?”
Your brain had to take over and make an executive decision before your cunt did something unwise. If you are gonna have sex with him, you want to have your wits about you. You’d like to remember it.
“Yeah,” he assures you, lying like a liar, can't help feeling disappointed by this. “Of course.”
“I’m so fucked up right now. If I wasn’t so drunk … I’m sorry.”
If you weren’t so drunk…? Yes! There is hope! He thinks happily.
“You don’t gotta explain. I gotcha.” Collie can’t help feeling smug, however. The boys had been correct in their assessment of her, after all. He was pretty sure in the near future you were going to feel content enough to tell him you wanted to have sex with him. You always took the babiest of steps, but you eventually made your destination.
Until then, he’d be around.
He snaked an arm around your waist and eventually you both lie back on the bed of the truck and stargaze for a bit.
“Do you see those over there?” He points to clusters of stars.
“No,” you fib, “Tell me about them.” You were an even bigger space head than he was and he wasn’t telling you anything new. But you wanted to hear his voice, feel the comfort and peace he brought you.
The grooves in the floor are uncomfortable and dig into your back. You turn onto your side and bring his face to yours, continuing to kiss him lazily for an unknowable amount of time.
Not at the same degree of passion as before, but it’s a sweeter, relaxed spirit this time.
You break apart guiltily when voices draw nearer.
—
It’s kind of an unwritten, unspoken promise between the two of you that the next time you see each other? You are going to fuck.
Sometime later in the week, you invited Collie to your house to watch a movie and that’s genuinely what you planned on doing. However, the making out and groping each other on the couch happened pretty much right away.
He sat in between your legs and he took your hand in his entwining your fingers while you kissed. The other hand was combing his agile fingers through your hair, keeping your head nearly immobile so he could explore your mouth with his bastard tongue.
It’s not important at all but you try to keep the blanket from sliding off you and him, trying and failing. He leans over to catch the edge of the blanket and that’s when you feel his hard cock underneath your thigh.
Oh, my, what’s this?
He’s kissing the side of your neck and you want to ask him to bite you. Hard.
But this, uh, new development causes you to back away a little bit to make some meaningful eye contact with Collie, to show that you mean business.
You push him back onto the back of the couch and hook a leg around him. His eyes are burning holes into you as you leave wet kisses on his collarbone and trail past his nipples. You graze your teeth against the right one, the left one. Collie hisses against your breath ghosting across him, your lust reaching ferocious levels, critical mass imminent.
It’s about here where you start to unbuckle his belt while pressing your nimble fingers against him, eliciting appreciative groans from him. You make to unzip the metal teeth, then momentarily stop to look up at him. His pupils are blown, hair wild. He licks his swollen lips and swallows hard. His hand gently nudges your head and you lean into it, grabbing his wrist to kiss and suck on his pulse point. You leave a tiny bite and begin to pull him out of his pants.
You have actually never done this before. Not for more than a minute, anyway. You try to make up for your lack of experience with enthusiasm and the uncontrollable hunger threatening to destroy and consume you both.
His weepy cock is fiercely upright and rigid underneath your touch. Paying attention to what gets him gasping and lifting his hips, you keep a determined suction around the head that is making him squeeze his eyes shut and what’s that, a growl? You sucking the Wolf Man off?
You make yourself laugh and it barely registers as one since your mouth is occupied. He cracks an eye open, curious, but then seeing you kneeling on the floor in front of him like that has him nearly whining with bliss.
You wrap your free hand around the base of his dick and you get a few up-and-downs in before he’s pulling you off of him, insisting he’s about to erupt and he’s got to you fuck now, now, right now.
He’s got you on your back now instantly—completely nude, the both of you—tounging all over your breasts and fucking his index and pointer finger into you. The veins in his arms pulsating with the effort. You hang onto his shoulders, hands irresolute. You are so wet that the noise of his fingers working between your legs is actually audible and if you weren’t so out-of-your-mind horny, you’d be embarrassed. But it felt too fucking good to be concerned about that.
He pulls his fingers out and takes your jaw in his other hand, urging you to open and feed those very same fingers into your mouth. You were upset he stopped with the mind-boggling manipulation of your pussy, but obediently sucked your own arousal off of his fingers. How base, how depraved!
He then quickly replaced his fingers with an unyielding, searing kiss. Collie had noticed you were rubbing yourself all over his thigh and knee, so, to appease you, positioned himself over you, arms bracketing your head. You were ecstatic, frantic, emphatically nodding hell yes, and trying to guide him where you wanted him.
“Oh!” You couldn’t hide the pain in your voice. It was a dull kind of pain, nothing like the agony you assumed it would be. But achey all the same.
“You all right?” He asked, checking in, shaking his hair out of his face and yours. “This okay?”
“That kind of hurt.” You admitted. It was futile, his hair just came right back down, cascading over his shoulders.
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, no, just… could you go a little slower, like when you first put it in?”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Sorry.”
You shush him. “Don’t be sorry. Keep going. It’s starting to feel really fucking good.”
He pushes in again, slower, as requested, but goes a little faster each time, building up a pace. Each thrust and slide has you gasping and nearly crying. You are drowning in pleasure, awash in him; he’s moving his hips in a sinful way that’s just barely brushing your clit, providing some relief but not enough. You dig your heels into his lower back to pull him closer, exert control over the stride, chasing that wonderful feeling. Collie’s grunting in your ear and telling you that you feel so fucking good, keep squeezing him like that and he’s gonna come, fucking fuck, fuck, it’s good, it’s so good.
—
Your first time together ends up being on that couch. Your second through fifth time takes place in your bed.
It was like you were trying to make up for lost time. All the past times you wanted to fuck him and never gave any indication of feeling that particular way, and now? He was laying on your bed, hands gripped tight on your hips pulling you down on his dick while you grabbed onto the headboard for purchase, barely able to stop moaning loudly and his vocals not any quieter. He pulls you closer to mouth at your breasts, lightly nibbling and sucking on the pebbled nipples, which just makes you moan louder.
Yes, this is where you wanted to be. Missionary on the couch with your legs wrapped around him had been perfect, nice. You had almost come that way. But you had other things in mind now that you were letting your slut flag fly.
You signaled him to slow down, he does, a little confused, but not totally stopping.
“What’s up?”
You rise, him slipping out of you halfway, and say, “I wanna try something else.”
You turn yourself around and adjust your legs to lay comfortably bracketing his thighs. He rushes to sit up, hands still roaming your body.
All you wanted was the same but more? You couldn't explain. You had to show him.
You lowered yourself onto him again and he let out an approving moan, “Fucking oh my god. You look so fucking sexy like this.”
He likes this view just as much if not more, his wandering hands running over your thighs and ass. Even spreading you a tad more to watch himself disappear in and out of you.
“Holy fuck.”
You used the leverage from your hands on the bed to work your hips up and around in a circular fashion.
“Oh, god. Fuck,” you responded in kind.
The other way was definitely good but you couldn’t get quite there. Moving this direction had been the right call because now he was hitting exactly where you wanted it.
Loud, desperate cries fell from your mouth as he kept his steady, brisk pace, not giving in just yet. You lean backwards, arching your back to its near limits, to feel his skin on yours. He moves his hands from your hips to embrace you closer. His lips brush your jaw, not marking any target, just aimless, in a frenzy. You can’t see him directly but you know he’s about to come, and you know this because he’s making the exact same noises he did a few minutes ago.
His pace was not as controlled, more animalistic and you were so exhausted that you stopped actively moving your hips, letting him fuck you like a toy. To give control was to be in control and you were exactly where you wanted to be. Orgasming, finally, thank fucking god.
After you’ve both settled down, you made him get up to grab some water. You both must have lost a liter of body fluids between the two of you. You had tried to stand but it felt awkward and unpleasant. You weren’t in agonizing pain, but between your legs there was this new sensation that you didn’t know what to do with. He returned with two glasses of water and came back to bed.
You laid there, feeling light as a feather, and thought of nothing at all. Mind completely empty. Not thinking about how this would majorly change things between you two, because, surely, it would. How you were not going to bring up your acceptance into the university that was an hour and a half away in another state. Nope, none of that.
You turned your head to remark on something he had done that you liked, but Collie was asleep. Passed out.
Yeah, you grinned delightfully, me, too, babe.
—
The following morning.
“You were wild last night.” He says in lieu of a good morning.
“Was I?”
“Yes. You were. I was not expecting that.”
“So were you!”
“Maybe. All I know is I’m gonna be thinking about you reverse cowgirling on me all day at work.”
“Oh, you liked it?”
“Oh, I liked it.” He teases, matching your cadence. “Watching my cock sliding into you… yeah, that was… Yeah.”
“I’m so glad I could do that for you.” You say in a slightly jesting voice. You lean over to pat his shoulder. “Thanks for fucking the shit out of me. Finally.”
“Hey,” he put up his hands defensively, “we could have been doing this a lot earlier if you weren’t allergic to expressing your feelings.”
“Yeah, yeah. Like you were any more forthcoming with me.”
His expression was almost a scowl. Yeah fuckin’ right was he going to let you place the blame solely on him. “Maybe I never said it in actual words, but I think I showed it plenty through my actions.”
He looked at you for confirmation when you didn’t answer. “Didn’t I?”
You made a noncommittal noise which annoyed him. So he felt he had to roll himself on top of you and declare. “Let me be clear. I like you. I like you a lot.”
“We should get up and shower…” you say, shutting his protests up before they began with a heavy kiss. You didn’t just like this boy. You might actually love him.
i think sub eva would be someone who values your commands above all else—even if they include embarrassing herself for you, it's for you, so she'll do it with only a little hesitation. she just really, really wants praise and to be called good and obedient by you. it doesn't matter if that includes just edging herself while you watch or if she needs to beg to not be allowed to cum, because your praise is valued above her pride.
that said, she's absolutely so embarrassed about everything, and it takes a while to get there. at first she's always closing her eyes, trying to hide her face and voice, etc. eventually i think she'd start liking the feeling, because it's always accompanied by you saying she's so pretty and cute and “you're being so good for me”. cue her keeping her eyes open just to feel even more humiliated by what she's doing.
alternatively, i think she'd love being blindfolded. since she can't see (you), a lot of her embarrassment disappears and she has a much easier time being more vocal. but even then, she'll still try to hide or keep her mouth closed, so tying up her hands and putting your fingers in her mouth is the hottest thing ever. or making her beg to cum in great, too. she can't just keep her mouth closed, and you can make her praise herself as much as you want. “well, only good girls deserve to cum, eva. have you been good for me?”
she's very determined to receive praise, but she's awful at accepting it or, god forbid, praising herself. whenever you make her repeat after you that she's a good girl, or so very pretty, or so brave for doing something embarrassing, she always says it back in a quieter way, and if you tell her to repeat it louder, she'll give you the meanest glare she can muster. (which usually ends up just being a pout.)
also, she's absolutely going to be researching about her specific kinks or turn-ons and making a little document for herself and only herself. that is, until she inevitably tells you about it, whether by being too drunk or just because she hopes you'll tease her about it.
you can have her sit on your lap, tablet in front of you both, and have her read everything she wrote while you're toying with her. when her conclusions are too short or she's skipping over lines, you can interrogate her some more about why she likes certain things and make her explain in more detail why she likes such dirty things. your voice being so close to her ears only makes it worse.
she's panting and quietly whining, just getting to the end of a paragraph when your fingers curl into her most sensitive spot. “hm? what was that? mind repeating it for me, darling?” while you're abusing that spot, making a mess of her.
