Last call chapter 3 request (Paul Avery x reader)- Reader gives Paul a blowjob for the first time (she wants to switch it up so she takes charge and control instead of him. I feel he’s more in control when they are having sex, this time she would be more in control of him and the focus is more on how he reacts, (running his fingers through her hair like she does his.). Also there is more intimacy and softness (kissing, holding each others arms/wrists, hand grazing, hugging, moaning from Paul). Another thing can be (prior to what I wrote above) she calls him on the phone as she said she would and it leads to phone sex, and the detail goes into their voices. (More sex (very intimate, Paul praises readers body) can be added to this request). I feel so freaky asking for this 😂 but I love your writing, thank you. 🩷
Closer
Pairing: Paul Avery x F!Reader
Part 1/2/3
Warning/Rating: 18+; explicit sexual content (phone sex, oral sex, penetration, multiple orgasms described), moderate language, emotional intimacy, romance, vulnerability, tenderness mixed with carnal desire
Word Count: 2.5 K
Four days.
You make him wait four days before you call.
Not because you're playing games - well, maybe a little - but because you want to. Because the anticipation is part of the fun. Because you like knowing he's thinking about you, wondering when you'll reach out, if you'll reach out.
You call him on a Thursday night at ten-thirty. Late enough that he's probably home, probably had a few drinks, probably thinking about you.
The phone rings three times before he picks up.
"Avery."
His voice is rough, thick with something - exhaustion, maybe, or whiskey. Or want.
"Hi."
There's a pause. Then: "Jesus Christ."
You smile, settling back against your pillows. "Miss me?"
"You have no idea." His voice drops lower, intimate. "Been thinking about you all week. About that dress. About what you did to me in my kitchen."
"Yeah?" You let your free hand trail down your stomach, over the thin fabric of your nightgown. "What else have you been thinking about?"
"Your mouth. Your hands. The way you look when you come." He exhales slowly, and you can hear the want in it. "The way you taste. The sounds you make when I'm inside you."
Heat pools low in your belly. "Where are you right now?"
"Houseboat. Bedroom." There's a pause, the sound of movement. "Where are you?"
"My bed." You slide your hand lower, between your thighs. "Thinking about you."
"Fuck." His breathing changes, gets heavier. "What are you wearing?"
"A nightgown. Thin. Nothing underneath."
He groans, low and rough. "Are you touching yourself?"
"Maybe."
"Jesus… tell me. Tell me what you're doing."
"My hand's between my legs." You circle your clit slowly, feeling yourself getting wet. "Thinking about your mouth. About how good you felt inside me."
"Fuck - I want to see you. Want to watch you touch yourself."
"You'll have to use your imagination." You press harder, pleasure sparking through you. "Tell me what you're doing, Paul."
"What do you think I'm doing?" His voice is strained now, breathless. "Got my hand on my cock, thinking about you. About how tight you were. How wet."
"Are you hard?"
"So fucking hard. Been hard since you said 'hi.'"
You smile, circling your clit faster. "Tell me what you want to do to me."
"Want to taste you again. Want to make you come on my tongue until you're shaking." His breathing is ragged now. "Want to fuck you slow this time. Want to watch your face while I'm inside you. Want to hear you say my name when you come."
"Paul!" Your fingers slide lower, push inside, and you gasp.
"Fuck. Are you -"
"Yes." You pump your fingers slowly, imagining they're his. "Wish it was you. Wish it was your fingers inside me."
"Me too. God, me too." You can hear the slick sound of him stroking himself, and it makes you clench around your own fingers. "You sound so good. So fucking good. Love the sounds you make."
"Tell me - tell me what you like about me."
"Everything." His voice is thick, rough with need. "Love your confidence. The way you look at me like you're deciding whether to fuck me or walk away. Love your body… your tits, your ass, the way you move." He groans. "Love how you taste. How you feel wrapped around my cock. How you take control. How you're not afraid to tell me what you want."
"I want you," you breathe, fingers moving faster. "Want to feel you inside me again. Want to make you lose control."
"You already do. Every time I think about you, I lose it." His breathing is harsh now, punctuated by soft groans. "Fuck - I'm close. Are you close?"
"Yes!" You press your palm against your clit while your fingers work inside you. "Keep talking. Tell me more."
"You're so fucking beautiful. The way you looked riding me - taking what you wanted - using my cock to get yourself off…" He breaks off with a groan. "Want to see you again. Want to touch you. Want to make you come so many times you forget your own name."
"Paul - I'm -"
"Come for me. Want to hear you come. Want to know I'm making you feel good even when I'm not there."
His words push you over the edge. You come with a gasp, clenching around your fingers, pleasure washing through you in waves. You can hear him groaning on the other end of the line, his breathing ragged as he follows you over.
For a long moment, there's nothing but the sound of both of you breathing, trying to recover.
"Fuck," he finally says, voice rough and satisfied.
"Yeah."
"When can I see you?"
You smile, still catching your breath. "Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock."
"I'll be waiting."
"I know you will."
________________________________________________________________
The next night, you arrive at eight-fifteen wearing jeans and a simple blouse - nothing fancy, nothing designed to drive him crazy. You don't need to try that hard anymore.
Paul's waiting on the deck, and when he sees you, his whole face lights up. It's different from before - less cocky, more genuine. Like he's actually happy to see you, not just happy to fuck you.
"Hi," he says, and there's something soft in his voice.
"Hi."
He reaches for you, pulls you close, and kisses you. It's slower, deeper, like he's savoring it. His hands cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones, and when he pulls back, he's looking at you like you're something precious.
"Missed you," he murmurs.
"It's been four days."
"Still missed you."
You let him lead you inside, and this time you take your time looking around. The houseboat is still cluttered - papers everywhere, books stacked on every surface, empty coffee cups and overflowing ashtrays - but there's something charming about it. It's so completely him.
"Want a drink?" he asks.
"Not yet." You turn to face him, and the look in his eyes makes your breath catch. He's watching you like he's trying to memorize every detail. "Come here."
He does, and you kiss him again, slower this time. Your hands slide up his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him through his shirt. His hands settle on your waist, holding you close but not demanding, not rushing.
When you pull back, you're both breathing harder.
"Bedroom?" he asks.
"Not yet." You push him gently toward the small couch. "Sit down."
He does, watching you with dark, curious eyes. You can see the bulge already forming in his pants, the way his hands flex against his thighs like he's trying not to reach for you.
You step between his legs, and his hands come up automatically to your hips. You let him touch you this time, let him pull you closer until you're standing right between his spread thighs.
"I want to try something different tonight," you say, running your fingers through his hair.
"Yeah?" His voice is already rough. "What's that?"
"I want to taste you." You watch his eyes darken, his pupils dilating. "Want to make you feel good. Want to watch you fall apart."
"Fuck…" His grip on your hips tightens. "Yes. Please."
You smile, lean down to kiss him again. This time you take your time, exploring his mouth, feeling the way he responds to you. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, and you can feel how hard he is, pressing against you.
When you pull back, you drop to your knees between his legs.
His breath catches. "Jesus."
"Relax." You run your hands up his thighs, feeling the muscle tense beneath your touch. "Let me take care of you."
Your fingers find his belt, and you take your time unbuckling it, drawing out the anticipation. He's watching you with dark, hungry eyes, his breathing already uneven. When you unbutton his pants and slide down the zipper, he lifts his hips to help you pull them down.
His cock is already hard, straining against his boxers, and you can see the wet spot where he's leaking. You palm him through the fabric, and he groans, head falling back against the couch.
"Look at me," you say softly.
He does, and the vulnerability in his eyes takes your breath away. This is different from before - he's not trying to be in control, not trying to dominate. He's just... open. Waiting for you.
You pull down his boxers, and his cock springs free, hard and flushed and beautiful. You wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly, and he groans again, louder this time.
"You're so hard," you murmur, watching his face. "Have you been thinking about this?"
"Yes! Fuck - been thinking about your mouth since the first night."
You lean forward, lick a slow stripe up the underside of his cock, and he gasps, hips jerking. His hand comes up to your hair, fingers threading through it, not pushing or pulling, just... holding. Like he needs to touch you, needs the connection.
"So good," he breathes. "You feel so good."
You take him into your mouth, just the head at first, swirling your tongue around the tip. He tastes like salt and musk and something uniquely him, and the sound he makes - low and desperate - sends heat flooding through you.
"Fuck - your mouth."
You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, and his fingers tighten in your hair. Not painful, just desperate. You can feel him trying not to thrust, trying to let you control the pace, and the restraint makes you want him even more.
You pull off, lick along the shaft, and look up at him. His eyes are dark and glazed, his mouth open as he pants. "You okay?"
"So fucking okay." His free hand comes up to cup your face, thumb stroking your cheek. "You're so beautiful like this. So fucking beautiful."
The tenderness in his voice makes your chest tight. You turn your head, press a kiss to his palm, and his breath catches.
Then you take him deep again, as far as you can, and he moans - loud and unguarded and completely vulnerable. His hips jerk up involuntarily, and you let him, let him fuck your mouth in shallow thrusts while you work him with your hand and tongue.
"God - fuck! I'm not going to last -" His voice is wrecked, desperate. "You feel too good - your mouth.”
You pull off, stroke him with your hand while you catch your breath. "I want you to come for me, Paul. Want to taste you."
"Jesus Christ…" His hand in your hair tightens, and you can see he's close, his whole body tense. "Keep going - please."
You take him back into your mouth, sucking hard, and his control shatters. He comes with a groan, hips bucking, and you swallow everything he gives you, working him through it until he's shaking.
When you finally pull off, he's staring at you with something like awe in his eyes. His hand is still in your hair, gentle now, and his other hand is still cupping your face.
"Come here," he says, voice rough.
You stand, and he pulls you down onto his lap, kissing you deeply. He doesn't seem to care that he can taste himself on your tongue - if anything, it seems to turn him on more. His hands are everywhere, sliding up your back, cupping your face, threading through your hair.
When he pulls back, he's looking at you like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen.
"That was…" He shakes his head. "You're incredible."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He kisses you again, softer this time. "Stay tonight. Please. I want -" He pauses, like he's not sure how to say it. "I want to hold you. Want to fall asleep with you. Want to wake up with you."
You should say no. Should remind him of the rules, the boundaries. This is just sex, nothing more. But the way he's looking at you - vulnerable and hopeful and so fucking genuine - makes you hesitate.
"Okay," you hear yourself say. "I'll stay."
His smile is brilliant, and he kisses you again, deep and slow and full of something that feels dangerously close to affection.
"Bedroom?" he asks.
"Bedroom."
________________________________________________________________
He takes his time undressing you, kissing every inch of skin he reveals. When you're finally naked, he lays you down on his narrow bunk and just... looks at you.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, running his hands up your sides. "Every part of you. Your body, your mind, the way you look at me."
"Paul…"
"I mean it." He leans down, kisses your collarbone, your sternum, the curve of your breast. "You're incredible. The way you take control. The way you know exactly what you want. The way you make me feel -" He breaks off, shakes his head. "I've never felt like this before."
"Like what?"
"Like I'd do anything to keep you coming back." He looks up at you, and there's something raw in his eyes. "Like I'm completely at your mercy and I don't even care."
Your chest tightens. This is getting too close to something real, something more than just sex. You should stop it, should remind him of the rules.But instead, you pull him up for a kiss, deep and slow and full of everything you can't say.
He makes love to you this time - there's no other word for it. It's slow and intimate and tender, his hands gentle on your body, his mouth worshipping every inch of you. When he finally slides inside you, you both gasp at the sensation, and he pauses, forehead pressed against yours.
"Okay?" he whispers.
"Yes. More than okay."
He moves slowly, each thrust deep and deliberate, and you can feel every inch of him. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together, and he holds it above your head while he rocks into you. His other hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek, and he watches your face like he's trying to memorize every expression.
"You feel so good," he murmurs. "So perfect. Like you were made for me."
"Paul!"
"I know. I know this is just sex. But right now -" He thrusts deeper, and you both moan. "Right now it feels like more."
You can't argue with that. Because it does feel like more. The way he's touching you, looking at you, moving inside you - it's not just fucking. It's something else. Something that scares you and thrills you in equal measure.
When you come, it's slow and deep and overwhelming, pleasure rolling through you in waves. He follows shortly after, groaning your name against your neck, and you hold him close, feeling his heart racing against yours.
Afterward, he doesn't pull away. He stays inside you, holding you, pressing soft kisses to your face, your neck, your shoulders. When he finally does pull out, he immediately pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you.
"Stay," he whispers again. "Please stay."
"I'm not going anywhere," you murmur back.
And as you drift off to sleep in his arms, the houseboat rocking gently beneath you, you think that maybe this arrangement is becoming something more than you planned.
Something that feels dangerously close to real.
But for tonight, you let yourself have this. Let yourself be held. Let yourself feel wanted for more than just your body.
Tomorrow you can worry about the rules.
Tonight, you just want to be close to him.
