Coney Island Part 2 - Nestor Oceteva
a/n: I'm back! Also, I wish I could tell you what this is but I can't. Y'all said you liked this concept so here's a part two. I'm on a real Nestor kick lately. Mans has got me in a grip. Enjoy!
warnings: NSFW!!, fem! reader, brief mentions of violence/abuse
"Fuck, dulce." Nestor groans, rolling his hips against yours, his fingers buried deep in your hips for leverage. He takes pleasure in the way your face relaxes into ecstasy every time his dick meets that spongy spot inside of you. The way your eyebrows furrow as he pulls out, and the rolling of your eyes to the back of your head as he presses back in, moving a thumb to roll over your clit. He feels your pussy clench around him as you reach to touch any part of him. Your nails find his chest, and he lets out a deep groan as you run them down his skin. He picks up the pace on his strokes, keeping the same tempo on your clit, leaving you a withering mess below him. Moments later, the two of you reach your climax together, Nestor then collapsing onto the bed next to you. His chest rising and falling as he tries to settle his breathing, his eyes finding your profile as you take a minute to breathe, your hands lying idly on your chest, eyes closed in relaxation.
Following the incident last month of the two of you being kidnapped, you had found yourselves making up for lost time in the bedroom (and on the kitchen table, bathroom sink, against the wall in the foyer, ottoman in the living room...wherever, really). It had been probably a year since the two of you had had this much sex. Being busy with work, and oddly disconnected from one another had pushed you to opposite sides of your king-sized bed, not sharing it at all some nights. But for the last few weeks, Nestor seemed eager to get home if not for any other reason than to bury himself in you. And well, who would turn down an orgasm from the man you love? However, should the two of you probably talk things through? Absolutely. Were you going to do it while Nestor is fucking your brains out? Absolutely not.
You peel your eyes open, and turn your head, meeting his dark eyes that beam at you with affection. You find yourself wondering if he's always looked at you that way, and if that look will fade when the post-nut clarity comes.
"Te amo." He mutters, as one of his hands reaches out to brush a piece of hair out of your face. He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your head. And then, he's up. He strolls to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
You let out a breath, setting up in the bed and pulling a robe around your body. The sex...well, it's great. It's always been great, but sex feels like a band-aid for the disconnect. Nestor comes inside you and then goes off to work while you wait for him to come home and do it again. There is very little conversation...or apologizing.
You hear the shower turn on and let out a breath. A grumbling in your stomach reminds you that you should probably eat something. You slip on a pair of shorts and are digging through the fridge to find ingredients when you hear a rustling outside. Your insides freeze, and you lift your head to look outside your kitchen window. Nothing. You take a breath and shake your head, going back to your search when you hear it again.
“What the fuck?” You mutter under your breath. Taking no chances this time, you scurry back to your bedroom and bang on the bathroom door. “Nestor!!”
The panic in your voice damn near makes him panic. He quickly rinses the suds off his body and turns the water off. He wraps a towel around himself and unlocks the door.
“What’s wrong, mi amor?” He gives you a once over, noticing the way your chest is heaving up and down in a panic. You slip into the bathroom with him, and shut the door making Nestor’s brows furrow.
“I heard something outside.” You rush out, hushed.
“What was it? Like a person?” He asks, leaning over to open the door to go check.
“No, no, no. Don’t go out there.” You say quickly, grabbing his hand before he can turn the doorknob.
His gaze softens and he raises his eyebrows. “Mi dulce, you know I’m not the type to sit here and wait it out.”
You shake your head, swallowing hard. “I just don’t want them to find us again.”
Nestor grabs your wrist and pulls you into his chest. He’s still wet from his shower but you don’t mind. He holds you there for a second and you feel him press a kiss to your head. He knows you’ve been stressed since the incident. He’s watched as you glance around, rushing to the door of your home. He’s seen the panic on your face when you can’t find him at work events. Your newfound hyper-vigilance has not gone unnoticed by him.
“Mi amor, no podemos vivir nuestras vidas con miedo de algo que puede suceder o no.” Nestor says, taking your face into his hands. “I protected you then, and I’ll protect you now. Always.”
A shaky breath escapes past your lips and your eyes dance between his in uncertainty. You open your mouth to reply but his lips come down to your own for a few seconds.
“I’ll get dressed and take a look around. Give me five minutes.” He mumbles against your lips and then disappears before you can protest.
Ten minutes later, you are pacing around your living room, biting at your nails. The fear of not knowing if something actually was out there is starting to get the better of you when Nestor slips back inside. He slips his shoes off at the door and then meets your worried gaze.
His gaze meets your and he gives you a small smile. “The coast is clear, mi dulce.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and take a seat on the couch. Nestor’s eyebrows furrow as he watches your head fall into your hands. He crosses the floor and kneels down in front of you, his hands coming up to hold yours.
“I would never let anything happen to you. You know that, don’t you?” Nestor questions, his eyes searching yours.
You want to reassure him. Tell him that you’re sleeping well and that you know he would never let anything happen to you. But the look in his eyes when those guys threw you into that van haunts you. He was helpless. And you were helpless. And there was absolutely nothing that he could do to maintain your safety. Especially after they separated the two of you.
Your mouth opens to whisper the lie to him, to tell him that you have faith in him but the words die on your tongue and his face twists in confusion.
“Hey,” Nestor breathes out, moving to sit next to you on the couch. You turn your body to face him, your hands falling to tug on your fingers. “What’s happening in that head of yours?”
You look up at him, your hands gripping onto each other to stop the shaking. “Something already did happen. And we couldn’t do anything.”
Nestor shakes his head. “You are safe now. You were always going to be okay. I would have never let them actually hurt you.”
“They did hurt me.” You whisper, looking away from him. “They did. And you weren’t there. You were in the van. And it’s not your fault and I’m not blaming you because you are just a human being. But I’m afraid, Nestor. All the time.”
Nestor’s heart shatters in his chest. You’ve been together for years, and no it’s not always been the perfect relationship but the love he has for you is deep and unrelenting. Never did he think that fear would be the thing you felt while with him.
He takes your hands gently into his, pressing a kiss to each of them and then meeting your gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you then. I tried.”
You shake your head and it’s your turn to take his face into your hands. “No, no, no. You did everything you could and I know that. And I love you for it. And I feel the most safe when I’m here with you. That’s not at all what I’m saying.”
His eyebrows are furrowed and he shakes his head. “What else can I do to make you feel safe? More boxing training? Do we need to find a new house?”
The desperateness in Nestor’s voice breaks your heart and you shrug, “Those might help. We can try them.”
He nods at you, his hands grabbing at you and pulling you onto his lap. His arms wrap around your waist and he holds you close to him. The two of you sit like this for a while. Probably too long, but despite your anxiety, you really do feel safest in his arms.
“Do you want to talk about how they hurt you?” Nestor mumbles against your chest after a while. You lean back so you can meet his gaze. His dark eyes are somehow even darker and you lean down to catch his lips with your own.
“Yes. But I don’t want the details to hurt you.” You mumble, using your hands to smooth over his hair.
He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about me, mi amor. I want to know.”
So you do. You sit in his lap and tell him everything. The pain, the fear, the shooting. Their greedy hands grabbing at you and making innuendos toward further abuse. The way they kept laughing that Nestor couldn’t help you. By the time you’ve told him everything, you can feel Nestor’s anger buzzing under his skin.
His arms tighten around your waist and he buries his face in your chest. "I should've ripped them limb from limb."
You let out a quiet chuckle and press a kiss to the top of his hair. "And I know you would have if you had known."
Nestor leans his head back against the couch, deep in thought. You trace a finger along his jawline and wait for him to gather his thoughts. Several minutes later, he meets your gaze and you don't recognize the look on his face.
"Do you remember that apartment you lived in when we first met?" He asks, one of his hands coming up to smooth down your hair. You nod, silently wondering where he's going with this.
"I remember the first time you invited me over." He starts, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. "I was so nervous. Worried that this life wasn't going to be what you wanted, and absolutely positive that it wasn't what you deserved. I walked into that apartment and it was in one of the shittiest neighborhoods in Santo Padre and somehow, you had made it nice. The walls painted a green color and plants everywhere. You were wearing these baggy pants with a white shirt and denim button-up thing, and you offered me lemonade." Nestor lets out a laugh at the memory, as if it's the most absurd thing he's ever heard. "No one has ever looked at me and thought to offer me lemonade."
You smile, "I just didn't want you to be thirsty."
Nestor's eyes lighten up as he laughs. "You're the most effortlessly thoughtful person that I know." His face grows serious and then he closes his eyes. "I know that this past year has not been easy. And I know that I have driven you to some dark places in your mind and I can never apologize enough."
You wait for him to finish, your fingers running up and down his arm in an attempt to comfort him as he speaks.
"I can't promise you that people like those pieces of shit won't hurt you again, mi amor. I wish I could. I can promise you that I will die trying to stop them." He says seriously, his eyes locked onto yours. "And if you want to leave and get out of this shit, I won't stop you. Hell, after the year we've had I wouldn't blame you."
Your face crumples at his suggestion. You shake your head at him, leaning down to press a kiss to his mouth. Nestor's hands find your waist and squeeze as you deepen the kiss. Your hands tangle into his hair and tug as you resituate yourself on his lap. Nestor lets out a deep groan, and you feel him pressing against you.
You grind down onto him, his lips trailing down your neck, suckling onto the skin there. You're breathless by the time his lips find yours again and he lifts your legs, laying your back down gently on the couch. Your robe falls open and he quickly undoes the tie, his dark eyes trailing over you.
You shrug off the robe and toss it onto the floor, reaching down to remove Nestor's shirt and then his shorts. His lips find yours again and his hand trails up your leg. He revels in the sound you make when his fingers brush over your sex. He removes his lips from yours and trails them down your body. He lines his mouth up to your sex and licks a long stripe up, his tongue focusing on your clit. Your hands find his hair again and you let out a moan. His lips wrap around your clit and he inserts a finger into you. Then another.
"Oh my fuck." You curse, your back arching at his assault. Nestor continues for several minutes, adding another finger which causes you to cry out. The familiar pleasure builds in your lower abdomen and you moan out his name as the pressure snaps.
His fingers fuck you through your orgasm and then he comes up, kissing you and allowing you to taste yourself on him. You groan, gripping onto his back. You can feel him pressing into your leg and spread your legs further to accommodate him.
"Hmmm, always so thoughtful." He mutters against your lips. You grin and urge him forward. "What is it? What do you want?"
"I want you to fuck me." You mumble, tugging lightly on his hair. He growls, and teases his tip at your entrance. One of his hands come up to rest against your throat. He meets your gaze and tightens his grip as he sheathes himself inside you.
"Oh fuck, Nestor." You moan out, your back arching against him. He lifts his hip and thrusts back into you. Hard. The sound that comes from his throat damn near makes you come right then and there.
Nestor sets a quicker pace than usual, never letting up pressure on your throat in a positively delicious way. His eyes stay locked on yours, silently checking in on you as he watches your mouth drop open in pleasure.
"Fuck mi amor, you look so fucking good like this." He grumbles, his mouth coming to make its assault on your ear.
You let out a moan and reach a hand down to your clit. The familiar twinge of pleasure begins to build again and you let out a louder moan.
"That's it, mi dulce. Go ahead and fucking come for me." He coaxes, his hand tightening some on your throat. Your orgasm washes over you in waves and Nestor fucks you through all of them before reaching his high as well.
He pulls out of you slowly, immediately removing his hand from your throat. His eyes meet yours and he presses a kiss to your lips, grinning at the fucked-out look on your face. He settles himself between your legs and rests his head on your bare chest.
Several minutes pass before anyone speaks, but oddly enough, Nestor is the first to break the silence. "I don't want you to think that I'm complaining but you didn't answer my question."
You let out a giggle and shake your head, "There's no one else in the world I want to have near-death experiences with. Let's just maybe get a camera on the front door or something."
