Soft Hands, Hard Falls
Summary: Colt gets injured in a freak accident on set, you help take care of him and along the way learn a lot about each other
Word count: 7.2k
TW: Injuries, praise, oral, heavy breeding, man handling (he's also such a yapper guys im so sorry. im not immune to a chatty man)
continues under cut !
The roar of engines and the sharp crack of practice explosions had become the soundtrack of your life these last six months. As the script supervisor on some new action movie, you spent your days darting between camera monitors, wrangling last-minute dialogue changes, and trying (mostly failing) to not stare at Colt Seavers. He made it nearly impossible.
The man moved like the stunts he performed were an extension of his own body: fluid, cocky and a little too fearless. Every morning he showed up in worn jeans and a faded black tee, coffee in one hand and a helmet in the other, flashing that crooked grin at the crew like he hadn't just spent the previous day launching himself off buildings or flipping cars. And every time your eyes met across the lot, the air thickened.
It started small. A nod. A lingering look when you handed him updated call sheets. Then came the teasing.
"You keep frowning at those pages like that and you're gonna get wrinkles sweetheart," he'd said one afternoon, leaning against the craft services table while you marked continuity notes. His arm brushed yours as he reach for a water bottle. Neither of you pulled away.
"I'll earn wrinkles worrying about you idiots trying to set new land-speed records on camera," you shot back, but your voice came out softer than intended.
Colt's blue eyes had sparked with mischief. "Good. Means you're thinking about me."
Nothing ever crossed the line. A charged comment here, a brush of fingers there, the way his gaze would drop to your mouth for half a second before he smirked and walked off to the next setup. The tension sat between you like a live wire, visible to everyone paying attention yet remained untouched. Professional.
Today the schedule called for a big vehicle final chase. Colt was doubling the lead again, suited up in a reinforced black fire layer that did absolutely nothing to hide the wide breadth of his shoulders. You stood near video village, clipboard clenched tightly to your chest as you watched him climb up into the modified pickup.
He caught your eye right before the safety check. Instead of his usual cocky wink, he gave you a small, almost private nod. I got this. Your stomach twisted anyways.
The first two takes were flawless. The third was not.
You heard the stunt coordinator's sharp "Wait-!" right as the truck hit the ramp at the wrong angle. The rigging snapped. Metal screamed. The pickup flipped hard, once, twice, crashing roof-first onto the asphalt in a shower of sparks and shattered glass.
For one terrifying heartbeat, the entire set went silent.
Then chaos.
"Colt!" You were moving before you even realized it, shoving past PA's and grips, heart hammering against your ribs. The safety team reached him first, but you dropped to your knees beside the wreckage anyway as he dragged himself out the driver's side window.
Blood streaked down the side of his face from a cut above his eyebrow. He was favoring his left side heavily, one arm clutched tight against his ribs, jaw locked in a tight grimace. Dust and grease smeared across his suit.
"Easy," you said, voice shaking as you helped steady him. "Don't move too fast. The medics should have a look at you."
"I'm good. I just need to sit down for a minute," he grunted, but the way he leaned into your shoulder said otherwise. His breathing was shallow, pained. Up close you could see the sweat on his temples and the way his hands trembled slightly from adrenaline and injury.
"Liar," you whispered. You slipped an arm around his waist, careful not to press on his ribs, and guided him toward the cluster of production trailers. He let you. His free hand settled low on your back, steadying himself. The heat of his palm burned through your thin shirt.
Inside the nearest trailer you used as a makeshift office, you eased him down onto the small couch. He hissed when his back met the cushions.
"Stay put," you ordered, already rummaging through the well stocked first aid kit. Your hands were steadier than you felt as you knelt in front of him, tilting his chin up to inspect the cut.
Colt watched you the whole time, eyes half-lidded. "You didn't have to run out there like that," he said quietly. "Could've been dangerous."
"You could've been hurt worse." You dabbed antiseptic on the gash, trying to ignore how close yours faces were. His breath ghosted across your wrist. "And I... I needed to see you were okay."
A beat of silence stretched between you. That familiar tension coiled tighter, thick enough to taste. His gaze dropped to your lips again, longer this time. You swallowed hard and focused on bandaging the cut.
The on-set medic arrived a minute later, along with the stunt coordinator. The checked Colt over thoroughly, two cracked ribs, bruised shoulder and the usual collection of scrapes and gashes. No hospital needed, but he was officially done for the day and ordered to stay on house arrest for at least the next week.
"I can drive myself," Colt protested as the medic left.
"You're not driving anywhere," you said firmly, cutting him off. "I'll take you home. No arguments."
He looked like he wanted to argue anyway, but after a long second he just exhaled and nodded, that trademark smirk weakened by pain. "Yes ma'am."
The drive to his place was quiet. Colt kept one hand pressed to his ribs and the other resting on the center console, close enough that your fingers nearly brushed every time you shifted gears. You helped him inside the modest but surprisingly neat house on the edge of town, ignoring the way your pulse spiked when he leaned on you again walking up the steps.
You settled him on the couch with ice packs, painkillers and a glass of water. The late afternoon light filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes across his face. He looked exhausted but still unfairly handsome, hair messy and shirt discarded in favor of just a compression wrap around his torso.
"You don't have to stay," he murmured, eyes already drifting shut as the meds kicked in. "I've crashed harder than this before. This is just another Thursday for me."
"I know." You tucked a blanket over his lap. Your hand hovered near his uninjured shoulder. "But I'm going to. At least until you're not wincing every time you breathe."
Colt's eyes opened again, softer now. The tension that had simmered for weeks was still there, heavier now in the quiet of his living room. No cameras. No crew watching. Just the two of you.
He reached up slowly, fingers brushing your wrist. Not pulling you closer, just holding the contact, warm and careful.
"Thank you," he said, voice low and rough. "For looking out for me today."
You stayed.
The first night you told yourself it was just until the painkillers fully kicked in and you were sure none of his symptoms were going to worsen. By the second day, that excuse had quietly dissolved. Colt didn't ask you to leave, and you didn't offer.
His house was quieter that you expected, modest, with warm leather furniture, a surprising number of books stacked on shelves, and framed photos of wild stunt crashes and sunsets from various film locations. You made yourself useful. Mornings started with coffee (black for him and a heavy dose of sugar and cream in your mug), followed by convincing Colt to stay on the couch instead of trying to "walk it off."
"You're terrible at resting," you muttered on the third morning, adjusting the ice pack over his wrapped ribs.
Colt leaned back against the cushions with a low hiss, shirtless except for the compression bandage. The bruising along his left side had bloomed into deep purples and muddled greens, but the cut above his eyebrow was already scabbing over nicely. "I've been shot at, thrown off bridges, and set on fire for a living. Sitting still feels like a punishment."
"Too bad." You gently pressed the ice pack into place, your fingertips brushing the warm skin just above the bandage. His breath caught, and for a second neither of you moved. You cleared your throat and stepped back. "Medic's orders. At least seventy-two hours minimum, remember? You're on day three and you still wince when you breathe too deep."
He watched you with that half-lidded stare that always made your stomach flip. "You're bossy when you're worried."
"I'm not worried," you lied, turning toward the kitchen so he wouldn't see the flush on your cheeks. "I just don't want to explain to the director why his best stuntman is out for a month instead of a week."
Colt's low chuckle followed you. "Sure sweetheart. Keep telling yourself that."
-
By evening he was restless. You helped him to the back porch so he could get some fresh air, one arm carefully looped around his waist as he moved slowly down the short hallway. His body was solid and warm against your side, and every shift reminded you just how close you were. His fingers flexed against your hip like he wanted to hold on tighter but was holding himself back.
Once settled in a cushioned outdoor chair, he let out a long breath.
"You don't have to do all this," he said quietly, staring out at the fenced yard. "I know you've got work tomorrow."
"I swapped shifts with Emma. She's covering set notes for a couple days." You sat in the chair beside him, tucking your legs up underneath you. "Besides... someone has to make sure you eat more than protein bars and beer."
He turned his head, studying you in the fading light. The usual cocky smirk was softer around the edges now, worn down by pain and the strange intimacy of being taken care of. "Why are you really, then?"
You hesitated, tracing a fingertip around the seam of the chair cushion. The tension that had lived between you for weeks felt different now, less like a live wire and more like a slow-burning flame.
"Because I saw you pull yourself out of that wreck," you admitted. "And for a second I thought..." you swallowed. "I didn't like how that felt. So I'm here. Until you're better."
Colt was quiet for a long moment. Then his hand reached across the space between your chairs, palm up. Not demanding, just an offer. You slid your fingers into his. His grip was warm and careful, thumb brushing slowly over your knuckles.
"I've been thinking about you for weeks," he said, voice low. "Every time I climbed into a rig, every time I walked part video village. Kept telling myself to keep it professional. Didn't want to mess up your job or scare you off."
Your heart thudded hard. "You didn't scare me off."
"No?" His mouth curved, tired but genuine. "Even though I'm currently grumpy and useless?"
"Especially then." You squeezed his hand. "I like seeing the version of you that isn't jumping out of exploding car. Makes me feel like I get the real Colt for a little while. Though, I wish it was different circumstances."
He let out a rough breath that might have been a laugh. His thumb kept stroking your skin, slow and absent, like he couldn't help himself. The two of you sat there as the sun dipped low, hands folded together. Colt sat there, ribs aching and shoulder stiff but fully content to stay in that moment for as long as possible.
-
The next few days blurred together in a rhythm of small comforts. You made him soup and forced him to eat it. He let you change his bandages without complaining too much, though his jaw stayed tight every time your fingers grazed the tender bruises. In the evenings you sat together on the couch watching old action movies, his head eventually tipping toward your shoulder as the pain meds pulled him under the lull of sleep. You stayed still every time, afraid to wake him, afraid to lose the quiet weight of him trusting you like this.
One afternoon while you were folding a fresh ice pack wrap in the kitchen, Colt appeared in the doorway, moving better now though still slow. He'd managed to pull on a soft blue t-shirt, and some of the color had returned back to his face.
"You're healing." you said, unable to hide the relief in your voice.
"Slowly." He leaned against the frame, watching you. "I'll be back on light duty in a few days. Coordinator already called."
You nodded, suddenly aware of how close the end of this little bubble was. "Good. That's... good."
Colt crossed the room carefully until he was standing right in front of you. Close. Closer than he'd let himself get since the crash. His hand lifted, knuckles brushing a stray stand of hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness.
"I've been a shitty patient," he murmured. "But having you here.. it's been the best thing that's come out of this wreck."
Your breath caught. His eyes dropped to your mouth, dark with intent. The months of built up tension crackling between you like it might finally break. His thumb lingered on your cheek.
"You're still recovering," you whispered, even as you leaned lightly into his touch.
Colt's smile was small and pained, but his voice was steady. "Yeah. I know" He exhaled, resting his forehead lightly against yours for just a second. "Doesn't make me want you any less though."
He pulled back before either of you could cross that final line, but the promise in his eyes was unmistakable.
Soon. When he was better. When he could hold you without wincing. And you both knew it.
By day six, Colt was moving much better. The deep bruises on his ribs had shifted into ugly yellow-green, and he could take a full breath without his lungs aching. He'd been making good process but you knew he still was pained every once in a while. You caught him grimacing every time he twisted too fast or tried to reach for something on a high shelf. He'd grunt and play it off with a smirk and a laugh but you saw the strain.
That evening you were both on the couch again, the lights low and an old western playing on the television. Colt had convinced you to sit closer tonight, his good arm stretched along the back of the couch so his fingers could idly play with the ends of your hair. The casual touches had become bolder; his hand on your lower back when you brought him water, your thigh pressed against his as you sat on the couch together, the way he looked at you like he was memorizing every detail.
"You keep staring," you said softly, turning your head to meet his eyes.
"Can't help it." His voice was rough, lower than usual. "Been stuck in this house with the prettiest script supervisor in Hollywood taking care of me. A man's got limits."
You laughed, but the sound died when his fingers slid from your hair to the nape of your neck, fingertips tangling in the strands. The air thickened instantly. That familiar live wire tension snapped tight between you, the last week of almost and what-ifs finally demanding attention.
"Colt..." you whispered.
He didn't let you finish. He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn't. The moment his lips met yours the kiss was soft, testing. Then the dam broke.
Colt made a low sound in throat and pulled you closer, his mouth turning hungry. Weeks of restrained want poured out as he kissed like he'd been starving for it. His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair while the other gripped your hip. You shifted toward him, knees pressing into the couch as you kissed him back just as hard.
It deepened fast. Tongues sliding, breaths mingling, bodies trying to get closer despite the awkward angle on the couch. His stubble scraped deliciously against your skin. You nipped at his bottom lip and he ground, the sound vibrating through you. For a moment it felt perfect, electric, everything you'd both been holding back.
Then he twisted slightly to pull you into his lap and a sharp, pained hiss escaped him.
You felt it immediately, the way his body tensed and how his breath stuttered against your mouth. His left side locked up, ribs protesting the movement.
"Shit-" He broke the kiss with a grimace, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to breathe through the sharp spike of pain.
"Colt," you breathed, instantly pulling back. Your hands framed his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. "Hey, easy. Breathe."
He leaned his forehead against yours, eyes still closed and jaw tight. "I'm fine," he rasped, but the strain in his voice said otherwise. One hand stayed possessively on your hip while other moved to be pressed carefully to his wrapped ribs. "Just... moved wrong. Goddamn it."
You stayed by his side, careful to keep your weight off him as you stroked his hair while the pain slowly subsided. Your heart was still racing, lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss. "We should stop," you whispered, even though every part of you didn't want to. "You're not ready for this yet."
Colt let out a frustrated huff, eyes finally opening. They were dark, frustrated and full of the same want still burning in your chest. "I've wanted to do that for weeks. Months, maybe. And now my own body's cockblocking me."
You laughed softly, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You're healing. That was.. intense. Too intense for cracked ribs."
For a long moment he just looked at you then leaned in again, this time slower and more deliberate. This kiss was unhurried, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, sensual rhythm that made your toes curl. He kissed you like he was learning the shape of your mouth, like he wanted to commit every sigh and taste to memory. It was intense in a different way, full of promise and barely leashed hunger. Your fingers curled into his shirt as heat pooled low in your stomach. Colt angled his head, kissing you harder for a few perfect second, a quiet groan rumbling in his chest.
But then his ribs protested again. He pulled back with a sharp inhale, jaw clenched tight. "Damn it. I want you so it's killing me. Literally, apparently."
You let out a breathless laugh, "when you're healed.. when you can move without wincing.. we're not stopping."
Colt's eyes darkened with heat and agreement. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, still slightly swollen from his kisses.
"Deal," he rasped. "First day I'm cleared.. I'm taking my time with you sweetheart. No rushing. No pain. Just me and you."
You smiled, curling carefully against his good side as his arm wrapped around you. The movie played on, completely forgotten. For now, this was enough. The steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his body, and the sweet anticipation of everything still to come.
He pressed one last gentle kiss to your mouth then to the top of your head, murmuring against your hair, "Worth the wait. You always are."
-
Later that night, the house was quiet except for the low hum of the ceiling fan. The western had ended hours ago and you'd both been lingering in the comfortable silence that followed your kiss.
You stood from the couch and stretched, glancing toward the linen closet. "I'm gonna grab the extra blankets. Sleep is calling my name."
Colt, still sitting with one hand carefully braced against his ribs, frowned. He watched you for a long moment, the lamplight catching the bruise along his jaw and the healing cut above his eyebrow.
"You don't have to keep sleeping out here," he said quietly.
You pause, arms full of the folded blankets you'd been using the last few nights. "It's fine. I don't mind."
"I do." He pushed himself up slowly, jaw tightening at the movement though he managed to maneuver without a groan this time. He crossed the short distance until he was standing in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "My bed's big. Plenty of room. And I'd sleep a hell of a lot better knowing you weren't all cramped on that old lumpy couch."
Your heart shuttered. Sharing his bed felt like another line crossed, more intimate than the kisses even if nothing else happened. You searched his face, looking for any sign he was pushing through pain just to be polite.
"Colt.. you're still hurting. I don't want to accidentally elbow you in the ribs in the middle of the night."
His mouth curved into that familiar half-smirk, though it was softer now, almost vulnerable. "Sweetheart, I've been lying in that big empty big bed for the last week thinking about you out here. If you're worried about hurting me, I'll sleep on the right side. You can have the left. I just..." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. "I want you closer. That's all."
The honesty in his voice made your chest tighten. You'd spent days taking care of him, changing ice packs, making sure he took his meds, catching him when he'd try to do too much.. but this felt different. More personal.
"Okay," you said softly. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure."
-
A little while later, after you'd both gotten ready for bed, you slipped beneath the covers of his king-sized bed. Colt eased himself down on the right side with a careful breath, wearing nothing a pair of loose sweatpants. The compression wrap was still snug around his torso, the bruises on his ribs a vivid reminder of why you both needed to be gentle.
You settled on your side facing him, leaving a careful gap between your bodies. The sheets smelled like him, clean soap and that warm, masculine smell that always made your pulse quicken. For a minute, neither of you spoke. The only light came from the hallway nightlight spilling faintly through the open door of the bedroom.
Colt turned his head towards you, "Come here."
You hesitated only a second before sliding closer. He lifted his right arm carefully, and you tucked yourself against his uninjured side, head resting on his shoulder, one hand lightly splayed across his chest. His arm curled around your back, palm settling possessively just above the curve of your waist.
"Better?" you whispered.
"Much." His voice rumbled under your cheek. His fingers traced slow, absent patterns on your back through your sleep shirt. "I've been wanting this since the first time you patched me up after that wreck."
You smiled against his skin. "Even when you were being a grumpy patient?"
"Especially then." He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, then another to your temple. "You make me feel.. looked after. Not many people do that for me."
You tilted your head up to look at him. He leaned down to kiss you, slow and sweet this time. No frantic hunger. Just the lingering pressure and the gentle slide of his lips against yours. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
Colt let out a contented breath, his arm tightening around you just a little. The house grew quieter as the lull of sleep started to tug at both of you. His heartbeat was steady under your palm, the constant thumping lulling you to sleep.
"Night, sweetheart," he murmured into your hair.
"Goodnight, Colt."
-
Three and a half weeks later, Colt was finally cleared.
The moment the doctor gave him the all-clear, the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. The drive home was thick with tension, his hand gripping your thigh the entire way, thumb stroking restlessly over your skin. You barely made it through the front door before he had you pinned against it.
His mouth crashed into yours with weeks of pent up longing. The kiss was deep, desperate and devouring- nothing like the tender kisses you'd shared while he was healing. Colt kissed you like a man who had been starving, tongue sliding hotly against yours, one large hand cradling the back of your head while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave light bruises in the shape of his fingers.
"Fuck, I've missed this," he groaned against your lips between kisses. "Missed your mouth. Missed the way you taste. Every night you were lying next to me I wanted to kiss you until you couldn't breathe."
You whimpered into his mouth as he tilted his head and kissed you even deeper, slower, more sensual. His stubble scraped deliciously against your skin. He sucked hard on your bottom lip, teeth biting into it before he soothed his tongue over it. The kiss turned filthy, the sounds of soft groans and whines filling the hallway. Your hands fisted in his shirt as heat pooled low in your belly.
Colt pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against your, both of you breathing hard.
"I need you." He rasped. "All of you."
He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom. The kisses never stopped, messy and urgent against your mouth, your jaw, your neck. By the time he laid you down on the bed, your lips were swollen and tingling.
Colt stripped you with reverence, but his hands trembled slightly with restraint. Every piece of clothing removed was followed by his mouth, kissing down your neck, sucking lightly at your pulse point, then lower. He spent long minutes lavishing attention on your breasts, tongue circling one nipple while his hand kneaded the other, groaning like he was the one being pleasured.
When he finally tugged your underwear down your legs and settled between your thighs, the sound he made was broken.
"Goddamn sweetheart.." His voice was wrecked with awe. He spread your thighs wider with those big, strong hands, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin right beside where you needed him most. "Look how wet you are. Been thinking about this pretty cunt for weeks. Dreamin about it."
He leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your center in one long, broad stroke. The moan that tore through his chest was pure bliss.
"Fuck- You taste even better than I imagined."
Colt didn't tease. He buried his face in you like a man possessed, pussy drunk from the very first taste. His mouth was hot and greedy, licking and sucking with shameless hunger. He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked gently, then firmer, alternating with slow, sensual circles of his tongue that had your back arching up off the bed.
"Oh my god- Colt-"
He moaned loudly against you, the vibrations shooting pleasure through your core. His hips rocked helplessly into the mattress, seeking friction as he devoured you. Two thick fingers slowly pushed inside you, curling perfectly against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.
"So fucking sweet," he mumbled, barely pulling away long enough to speak. His voice was thick, lips shiny with your arousal. "Could eat this cunt for hours. Been dying to drown in you baby. You're so wet.. so perfect. Good girl, letting me taste you like this."
He dove back in with renewed fervor, licking and sucking messily, fingers thrusting deeper. The obscene wet sounds of his mouth filled the room alongside your moans and his constant, low groans of pleasure. He was completely lost in it, eyes half closed in ecstasy, stubble rubbing against your inner thighs, tongue working you relentlessly.
Every time you clenched around his fingers he moaned like it was the best thing he'd ever felt.
"That's it," he praised, voice rough and adoring between long licks. "Ride my face, pretty girl. Use me. Fuck, you're squeezing so tight around my fingers.. Cunt's gonna feel like heaven on my cock."
Your thighs began to tremble, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter under his expert, hungry mouth. Colt could feel it. He doubled down, sucking your clit hard while his fingers curled faster, growling praises against your soaked flesh.
"Come for me baby. Want to feel you come on my tongue. Been waiting so fucking long for this."
The orgasm crashed over you hard. You cried out his name, hips bucking against his face as pleasure flowed through every nerve. Colt moaned loudly, licking you through every wave like he couldn't get enough, drawing out your pleasure until you were shaking and breathless.
Only then did he kiss his way back up your body, lips and chin glistening. He captured your mouth in a deep, filthy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, dipping his tongue into your mouth before pulling back out of the kiss.
"I'm nowhere near done with you yet," he whispered against your lips, eyes dark. "Tell me you're ready for more, sweetheart."
"Yes," you breathed, pulling him down into another messy kiss. "I want you, Colt. All of you."
That was all he needed.
With a low growl, Colt manhandled you like you weighed nothing, maneuvering your body how he wanted. He sat up straight, tugging his shirt off over his head to discard it somewhere with your clothes.
"Been dying to fuck you properly," he rasped, shoving his jeans and boxers off, also being discarded to the floor. His cock slapped heavily against the skin of his lower stomach, "No more holding back."
He gripped your thighs, spreading them wide and pushing them back to your chest, folding you open beneath him. Colt stared down at your dripping cunt with raw hunger, stroking himself once before dragging the head through your slick folds.
"Fuck.. look at you," he groaned, then pushed in with one deep, long thrust.
You cried out at the stretch as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. The groan that tore from his throat was guttural.
"So tight.. so fucking perfect," he panted before starting to move, deep thrusts that shook the bed frame with every push forward.
Colt kept your thighs pinned back, manhandling you exactly how he wanted as he fucked you. Every thrust was hard and claiming, his grip bruising in the most delicious way. He leaned down to kiss you hard, swallowing your moans while his hips drove into you.
"Been waiting so long for this," he growled against your mouth. "Every night you were next to me in my bed, I wanted to pull you under me and fuck you just like this."
He suddenly pulled out, making you whine at the loss, only to flip you onto your stomach with ease. He yanked your hips up, shoved a pillow underneath them and slammed back inside you from behind in one smooth thrust.
"Shit- yes," you moaned loudly, pushing back against him.
Colt's hand fisted in your hair as the other gripped your ass, spreading you open so he could watch every inch of his cock disappearing inside you. He pounded into you with deep, rhythmic strokes, the wet slap of skin filling the room.
"That's my good girl," he praised. "Taking me so fucking well. This cunt feel even better than I dreamed."
He leaned over your back, lips brushing over the shell of your ear as one arm wrapped around you. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles while he kept fucking you hard.
"You're so wet for me, baby. Been aching for this cock, haven't you?"
"Yes! Colt, please," you gasped, clenching around him.
"I know baby, I know. I'm gonna take care of you." He groaned at the feeling, hips snapping harder. "Gonna fill you up so good, pretty girl."
The manhandling continued as he pulled you up onto your knees, back pressed to his chest. One of his big hands wrapped loosely around your throat, not quite tight enough to cut off your air supply, while the other stayed between your legs, rubbing your clit. He fucked up into you with deep, grinding thrusts, lips attached to your neck.
Every movement was controlled, powerful, and full of months of built up yearning. Colt kissed and bit at your shoulder, murmuring praise between heavy breaths.
"Such a good fucking girl for me.. letting me have you like this. Been dying to feel you come on my cock."
The angle, his fingers and the sheer intensity finally pushed you over the edge. You came hard with a broken cry, pulsing around him. Colt fucked through it, arms wrapped tight around you, like he couldn't bear even an inch of separation.
For a long moment, you both stayed like that, breathing hard as Colt gave you a moment to recollect yourself. He pressed soft, open mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder as he stayed buried in you.
He pulled out and carefully lowered you back down onto the bed, helping you to get all situated on your back once again.
"Think you can take me again?" He smiled as you nodded.
Colt leaned down to kiss you deeply as you caught your breath, his tongue sliding lazily against yours. His head of his cock bumped your clit as he slowly ground himself against you, already desperate to get back inside you.
"I need you deeper," he murmured against your lips. "Need to fuck you so full you feel me for days."
Before you could respond, Colt pulled back and moved his hands to your thighs, folding you in half beneath him again, this time harder. Your knees pressed toward your shoulders, ankles framing your head in a deep press. The position left you completely open and helpless, pussy tilted upward and fully exposed for him.
"Fuck, look at you." Colt groaned, eyes raking over your folded body. "So pretty like this. Spread open just for me."
He braced his hands on the backs of your thighs, pinning you down as he lined up and sank back inside you in one long, devastating thrust. The new angle allowing him in even deeper. You moaned loudly at the intense stretch, feeling every thick inch of him.
Colt leaned down, folding you even tighter and captured your mouth in a tight kiss. His tongue plunged deep, matching the rhythm of his cock as he started fucking you with slow, hard strokes.
"Goddamn," he panted between kisses. "This cunt is taking me so deep. Feel that?" He ground his hips in a slow circle, pressing against your cervix. "Gonna fill you right here. Get you nice and full of me."
You whimpered into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders as he kissed you again, messy and desperate. Every thrust drove the air from your lungs. Colt's body covered yours completely, muscles flexing as he held you folded and fucked you hard.
"You want it, don't you?" he growled, "Want me to breed this pretty cunt?"
"Yes- Colt please," you gasped, clenching hard around him. "Fill me up please."
The words made him moan loudly. He kissed you again, harder this time. The wet obscene sound of his cock driving into your soaked cunt filled the room with every deep thrust.
"That's my good girl," he praised against your lips, kissing you between sentences. "Taking me so well. You were made for this weren't you ? Made for me to breed you ?"
He shifted his angle slightly and hit that perfect spot inside you, making you cry out into his mouth. Colt swallowed every moan, kissing you like he wanted to devour you whole.
His pace grew punishing, hips slamming down into you. The position made everything feel more intense, more intimate.
"Come for me sweetheart," he breathed against your mouth, eyes locked on yours. "Want to feel this cunt milk my cock when I fill you up."
The combination of his deep thrusts, his filthy words, and the constant hungry kisses sent you in a downward spiral. You came hard with a broken cry, clenching and pulsing around his cock. Colt groaned loudly, kissing you through your orgasm as his own release hit. He buried himself as deep as possible and came with a low groan, flooding you with thick, hot spurts.
He kept you folded beneath him, grinding slowly through the aftershocks, kissing you softly as he emptied every drop inside you.
"Stay just like this," he whispered, pressing gentle kisses to your swollen lips, your cheeks, your forehead.
Colt finally eased your legs down, pulling out and settling onto his back. He pulled you to lay on his chest, hand soothing over your back and spine.
Not quite done with him, you climbed up into his lap, exhausted but still aching for him. "Wanna ride you, please?"
Colt groaned as he nodded, watching as you lined yourself up with his cock and slowly sank onto it, being filled inch by delicious inch yet again. Your hands were braced against his chest as you lowered yourself until your hips were flush with his.
"Fuck.. that's it," he breathed, hands coming up to settle gently on your waist.
This time there was no frantic manhandling or pounding thrusts. The pace was slow, intimate and tender. You rolled your hips in lazy circles, then rocked gently back and forth, savoring the deep, full feeling of him inside you. Colt's hands slid up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples as he watched you with pure adoration.
"You're so beautiful like this," he whispered, eyes locked on yours. "Riding me so well.. after I've already fucked you so hard. My good girl."
Colt wrapped one arm around your back, holding you while his other hand guided your hips in a gentle rhythm. Every roll of your hips drew quiet wrecked sounds from both of you. The intensity had shifted into something warmer and more emotional. You could feel every inch of him dragging along your walls as you rode him unhurriedly.
His grip on your hips tightened just slightly, but he let you keep control of the pace. The gentle wet, sounds of your body moving together filled the quiet room. Colt pulled you down to kiss you, occasionally breaking away to kiss and bite at your neck or whisper sweet praises against your skin.
"You feel so fucking good.. so warm and tight around me," he groaned.
Your thighs started to tremble with exhaustion and building pleasure. Colt slid one hand between your bodies, rubbing gentle circles over your clit with his thumb. The added stimulation made you whimper into his mouth.
"I'm close," you gasped.
"Me too," he groaned, leaning up to kiss you again. "Come with me sweetheart. Want to fill you up one more time."
The slow, deep grind of your hips combined with his thumb finally pushed you over the edge with Colt following you right after. He groaned into your mouth as he spilled into you, hand roughly holding your hip as he ground up into you, trying to push every drop as deep as possible.
You collapsed onto his chest, completely spent, his cock still buried deep inside you. Colt wrapped both arms around you, holding you tightly against him as you both caught your breath. He pressed slow, lazy kisses to everywhere he could reach with his mouth. Once your breath was sufficiently caught he rolled you onto your back.
"Easy, baby." he murmured, voice low. He slowly pulled out of you, groaning softly at the sight of his cum leaking out of your cunt. For a moment he stared, fighting the urge to try and scoop it back into you before he shook himself out of it.
He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a warm, damp cloth. You expected him to hand it to you, but Colt gently pushed your thighs apart again and cleaned you up with careful, tender strokes.
"You're shaking," he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Did I wear you out?"
"Completely," you admitted with a small smile as your head cuddled further into the plush pillow beneath it.
Once he was satisfied you were clean, he tossed the cloth aside and climbed back into bed, pulling the comforter over both of you. He immediately drew you into his arms, tucking you against his chest so your head rested on his shoulder. One of his legs tangled with yours, and his hand settled possessively on your hip under the blanket.
For a while, you just lay there in comfortable silence, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin while you listened to his heartbeat slow down.
"So.. what are we doing here?" He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Because after tonight.. I don't think I can go back to pretending there's nothing between us on set."
You tilted your head to look up at him. "What do you want this to be, Colt?"
He was quiet for a moment, thinking. His hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing gently along your jaw.
"I want you," he said simply. "Not just like this. I want to take you out when we're not shooting. I want to kiss you good morning and goodnight. I want the crew to know you're mine so they stop looking at you like they have a chance." He let out a small chuckle, "I've been crazy about you for months. The crash just gave me an excuse to finally let myself have you."
You heart swelled. You reached up and traced the faint scar above his eyebrow from the accident.
"I want that too," you whispered. "I've wanted it for a long time. But.. we work together. Are we going to keep this quiet on set?"
Colt shook his head. "I don't want to hide it. I'm not saying we make out in front of the director, but I'm not pretending anymore. You're mine now." He tilted your chin up and kissed you slowly, tenderly. "If you'll have me."
You smiled against his lips. "I'm yours."
He exhaled in relief and pulled you even closer, wrapping both arms around you now. "Good. Because I'm not letting you sleep on that damn couch ever again. This bed is ours now."
You nestled deeper into his chest, feeling safe and warm and completely spent.
"So.. boyfriend?" you asked playfully, tracing circles on his lower stomach with the tip of your fingers.
Colt's laugh rumbled under your ear. "Boyfriend. Partner. Whatever you want to call me. As long as you're in my bed every night and I get to take care of you the way you took care of me."
He lifted your face up again for another slow, sweet kiss.
"We'll figure out the set stuff as go," he murmured. "But this? Us? This is happening. I've waited too long to waster any more time."
You nodded, pressing one last kiss to his chest before letting exhaustion pull you under.
"Sounds perfect to me."
Colt held you tighter, lips brushing the top of your head as sleep started to claim him too.
"Night sweetheart."