Femme Fatale / 18+
Tmasc!Reader / Spy WC: 2.9k Rating: E, Smut, NSFT Tags: Crossdressing, Penis In Vagina Sex, Panties, Scent Kink, Slapping, Spit Kink, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Public Display of Affection, Public Hand Jobs, Mild French
Spy enjoyed feeling pretty.
Gorgeous was a more apt term, actually. While his closet consisted primarily of suits, vests, dress pants, the typical markings of a masculine taste, it also ventured into the innately feminine. He had a number of expensive dresses, ones that would show off his well defined back muscles and broad shoulders. They were pieces only broken out for special occasions, when Spy was yearning to explore a side of himself he often kept under even tighter wraps than… Well, any genuine part of him.
You two made a pretty picture. He’d picked out a dark grey suit for you, which he’d fussed with for about 30 minutes before finally deciding to get ready himself. You lingered behind him to get a proper look at his assets, from top to bottom. He had sharp, angular hips, and admittedly a rather flat rear. He knew how to move his legs to distract from it. You had to resist reaching forwards to pat or squeeze at him, something that would surely work him up even more than he was right now.
“You are so tense right now.” You chuckled, as he applied makeup to the parts of his face one would be able to see. He gave a derisive scoff, rather dramatically reapplying the cap to a tube of lipstick. “... And so beautiful.” You added hastily.
“Smooth.” His sneer was not missed by you. “It’s a mission, darling. And I am not sure how much I trust your… investigative skills.” His voice went flat at the last syllables, giving you an unamused look. It wasn’t that surprising. It had taken a lot of pestering on your end to get him to agree to bring you. He always was such a perfectionist.
“It’ll be fine. When have I ever disobeyed you?” A purr escaped you as you stood up, resting your chin against his chest, where you could feel soft padding. He had to crane his neck to look down at you. “Having a taller wife is more fun than most men let on, you know.” You stood on your tip toes, and Spy reluctantly accepted your ask for a kiss.
It was really fucking hard to behave on the car ride over, though. Hard in multiple ways. Spy had used a sweet smelling perfume, which created a heady mix as puffed away on a cigarette. It made you want to shove your nose against him, lick along his ribs, lower too. You had to keep your hands neatly folded in your lap, a sensitive area for you. The only bit of relief was your underwear rubbing against your swollen clitoris as your mind raced with all the things you wanted to do to Spy right now, that you wanted him to do to you.
“Stop breathing so hard.” He demanded, parking a few blocks from the restaurant. “Panting like a bitch in heat…”
“I feel like one.” Nervous laughter bubbled up in you as you got out of the car quickly, moving to his door and holding it open. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. “You are just-”
“Perfect, I am well aware. You tell me it often.” He brushed a finger against your cheek, taking your hand in his. It was hard to tell whose was smaller, it seemed to change on the day. You liked how they fit together, and the way his palms were always a bit too cold when not covered by the barrier of a leather glove. His nails were well manicured, painted red. He’d bought you each a wedding band to wear for this mission, sending a shiver down your spine.
The clients, or whatever you’d call them, perhaps victims, had something to do with Spy’s employer. A rival company, maybe? Spy was vague on the details, just that he needed to collect some more information before taking them out. You didn’t really find yourself caring, too distracted by the sway of his lower half as he walked. He’d even sprung for heels, adding another inch and a half to his already impressive height.
You were seated across an older couple, man and wife with sour little faces and veiny, wrinkly hands. The man had a ring of hair but was otherwise bald on top, a thick moustache cradled his nostrils and wrapped around his upper lips. When he swallowed, his turkey neck swayed. His wife had tighter skin, especially across her cheek bones, and her fingers gently shook. Despite their pinched expressions, they were actually quite kind.
“Who’s this?” The woman asked as you sat besides Spy. “Is it not obvious? We’re married.” Was Spy’s curt response, his voice more raspy than it normally was. “He’s my husband.”
“First?” The man had a hearty laugh on him, his stomach lifting and falling with it. Spy didn’t seem as amused with the joke, and moved closer to you, your thighs rubbing against his beneath the table. “He just looks a bit younger than you.”
“Women my age don’t entice me the way she does.” You responded, patting Spy’s thigh. His chest puffed out in pride, giving you a small smile. “I prefer someone who has a similar appreciation for the arts, languages, culture.”
“Well, love takes all shapes.” The woman tilted her head in your direction, before squaring her shoulders in a way that suggested her husband may want to watch his tone going forward.
For what was meant to be some high security intelligence mission, the conversation was mind numbingly boring. Spy was discussing business deals, something you couldn’t even begin to care about. Perhaps he was trying to buy them out? Either way, he was still pressed against you, one of his hands resting atop yours. You rubbed your forefinger back and forth against his knee, trying to make it seem like you were paying attention. The other couple had forgotten your presence by now, clearly you weren’t the entrepreneur in the relationship.
Your hand, with its pesky mind, slid a bit further up Spy’s leg, beneath the hem of his dress. You were sure he noticed, with the way his spine moved, but his flow of speech was not disturbed. A small smirk pulled at your lips, fingers now along his inner thigh. He’d waxed for this, which you’d protested a few times. But he wanted to seem ladylike, and any attempts to talk him out of it (“how sexist to say women needed to be hairless, Spy.”) had not worked. They were still his legs though, pin-like as they were, so it wasn’t all bad.
Up, up, up, your hand continued to creep, admiring the softness of Spy’s skin. He had an extensive body care routine, one that he was trying to impart on to you, as your skin had become rougher and oilier. Kneading away at his flesh, you’d become so distracted you missed the way his eyes laid upon you. The air of annoyance he held, his thin lips stretched into a toothy smile. He didn’t dare acknowledge what you two were doing beneath the table, though. His words had become higher pitched, losing the rasp.
Your fingers rubbed a lacey material. Committed to his disguise, wasn’t he. His hand still in his lap twitched, as if considering preventing you from exploring further. Ultimately, it went back to rest. You moved your hand a bit further until you could feel the outline of his testicles, and swiped your fingers upwards, now pressed to the base of his cock. He tightened his grip on his glass of wine, taking a careful sip. The evening was shaping up to be rather stimulating for you after all.
Spy shifted, his crotch pressed a little more firmly against your hand now. You rubbed your hand against the clothed shaft of his cock, steadying your own breathing. He hardened at your caresses, and you wondered how well the dress would hide his erection were he to stand up. Something you could explore later, perhaps. Your hand continued between his cock and thighs, almost rhythmic.
The waiter came by, after what felt like a rather long time, to take the orders of the 4 of you. The fun was over. You began to pull away your hand, just for Spy’s skinny thighs to clamp around it, holding you there. You swallowed hard, not even hearing what he ordered for you. You weren’t going to be eating much with how distracted you were.
Spy moved his hand to your thigh, perhaps in an attempt to steady himself. You found the tip of his cock through his panties, circling it with your thumb, relishing in the way the fabric began to dampen. Spy was just too damn good at keeping composure, though. Able to pass any odd noises off as laughter or the start of another playful comment, his cheeks covered to not reveal any sort of blush. You were less capable, just glad to hide in your food once it was passed on to you. Spy’s hand squeezed your thigh when you got a bit too bold, reminding you of your place in this arrangement.
Dinner continued much the same, though Spy did seem to be speeding things up. You had to bite back a grin, as he stopped entertaining certain queries from the other couple, giving only direct and curt answers to them both. As the waiter came to drop off the bill, Spy allowed your palm to depart.
“Nice of them to pay.” Your eyes kept glancing down at Spy’s groin as you walked back to his car. He was almost eerily silent, his gait not as wide as it usually was, though he avoided shuffling in those heels. “... Did it go well? I’m not really sure what you were doing back there-” You licked your lips, wondering if you’d actually done something wrong with how tense he seemed.
He opened the passenger door for you, and a comment about how he was meant to be the lady tonight died on your tongue. You sat sheepishly, face burning as he walked around the car and got into the driver’s seat.
“... Spy, I’m so-” He grabbed the back of your neck roughly, pulling the skirt of the dress up and pulling his cock out of the lacey pink panties. You’d have giggled at the color, but he forced your head down before you got the chance.
“Suck my cock.” His voice was almost cold, but it sent a warm feeling through your lower half.
“Huh?” There was no simpler way for Spy to say it, but your head was rushing from the harsh actions, Spy tended to be far gentler in how he handled you.
“Have you forgotten English? Suce ma bite.” His grip on the back of your neck tightened as he growled out the demand. You let out a nervous bit of laughter, before obediently opening your mouth and taking the tip of his hard cock into your mouth. This seemed to relax him a bit, petting the nape of your neck with two fingers as he moved your head up and down around himself, sighing softly.
“You behaved like an animal in there.” He grabbed a cigarette from the glovebox, placing it between his lips as he lit it. The noxious smell hit your nostrils immediately, mixed with the scent of Spy’s crotch. His pubic hair tickled your lips as he worked you over himself. “Pawing at me, salivating into your food. What the Hell were you thinking?!” He thrusted upwards now, hitting the back of your throat roughly, his testicles slapping against your cheek and chin.
You mumbled an apology around him, focusing your tongue on his tip to show just how sorry you were. He hissed softly, running his fingers over your back, his manicured nails trailing downwards. “You could have blown that whole thing for me.” And now you were blowing something else. You snorted at the thought, which served to enrage him further. “You think it's funny? That was humiliating for me.”
Yet he had you keep going. Pointing that out would have ended badly, so you continued to lick and suck around him. He breathed hard through his nostrils, letting his head fall back. “When have you ever disobeyed me, my ass.” He muttered, hand running back to your neck. “You are such a man.” He pulled you off him, his cock still hard and weeping with pre-ejaculate.
“And you are quite the woman.” You breathed, wiping your mouth with your hand, getting ready to go back down again. Spy, at your comment however, seemed to have other plans. He pushed you into the back of his car, clambering awkwardly over his seats, the lack of grace he exuded made him curse, body warming. You let out a small grunt as he climbed on top of you.
“Perverted, deranged little man.” He breathed, tearing your pants off you. After he’d made such a fuss about what they’d cost, too. You heard the button fly off and hit the back of the driver’s seat. Your briefs were quick to follow, gasping as the cool air of the car mixed with the wetness between your thighs. “I have done nothing but teach you how to act like a gentleman, and this is how you repay me!” He pulled the pink lace off of himself, dropping the panties squarely on your face.
With a noise of sharp desperation, you clutched on to them and held them against your nose, inhaling deeply. “They smell so good- they smell like you…” You whimpered, grinning. He let out an offended sound, his cock twitching between his legs.
His eyes darted between your legs, his tongue poking out and swiping briefly. Elation bubbled through you, you knew what he wanted in that moment. To taste you. But he’d deny himself just to put you back in your place. He pulled his gaze away, and back to your face, spitting at you. You let his saliva roll down your cheek, grin widening.
Spy spread your legs apart, pushing them up against your chest, before lining himself up with your slick entrance. He rubbed his tip against you, perhaps a bit apologetic at his roughness now, though you were plenty ready for him. With a delicacy he had not deigned moments earlier, he split you open, a deep moan escaping his throat as his cock slid inside. You lurched up slightly, a small burn creeping through you. He let out a small shooshing sound, hand stroking your thigh.
He halted his hips, waiting for you to relax further. Your hand rested atop his on your thigh, lungs filling with deep breaths and the smoke from his cigarette as you untensed your body. He gave an appreciative hum as your walls complied around him, becoming looser and wetter. When he was satisfied that you could accept it, he pulled back before slamming back into you, the car jerking and rocking at the force of the action. You squealed and gripped at the headrest of the driver’s seat, toes curling.
“You’re a rabid dog.” He grunted, leaning over you. “You should be neutered. Treating a lady like some piece of meat. Boys like you never can control yourselves, can you?”
“N-no, Ma’am…” You crooned, lifting your hips up. He forced them back down, letting out a low noise from his chest.
“You need to be reminded of who’s in charge, don’t you? Of how to be a proper gentleman, how to treat a woman.” He panted softly, hips moving faster. “You let her cum first, don’t you?”
You nodded rapidly, hands twitching at your sides.
“It’s the kind thing to do, and I know you can be a very good boy for me.” Spy’s voice was next to your ear now, biting the shell before his tongue dragged down to your neck. You squirmed beneath him, trying to circle your hips to make things better for him.
“I can be very good for you, ma’am.” You assured, turning your head so your lips connected with the side of Spy’s face. “I’ll make you feel amazing…”
“You will, won’t you.” Spy agreed, his cock twitching inside of you. He wouldn’t last much longer, not with how controlled he’d had to keep himself earlier. You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him closer. He smelled your neck, before placing a kiss there. You were wearing his cologne.
His hips became less organized, more primal in their movements. His hands moved to your hips, squeezing them roughly, before he pulled out completely and came outside your entrance, warm seed trickling down your ass and onto the car seats. He’d surely get pissy about that later too. You looked up at him and whimpered, knocking yourself against his now flaccid cock. “My turn?”
Wrong thing to ask. He scoffed and smacked your butt, making you yelp, before taking the panties from you and redressing himself, bunching himself inside the garments. It looked a bit uncomfortable.
“Maybe later, if you can prove as impressive in my private quarters as you did just now. In the meantime, shut up and drive.” He grabbed your trousers from the floor of the backseat, pushing them into your hands. You huffed, pulling them back on. It wasn’t the most comfortable sensation, sitting in his and yours combined fluids while he relaxed in the backseat.
You looked at him in the rearview mirror, frowning at his smug expression. Well, at least you’d probably never have to sit through another boring espionage mission.