Phillip Altman x reader CW // praise, t!tty worship 1.3k words
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You sigh as you lock and set your phone face-down on the nightstand.
3:10am.
And you're no closer to sleep than you were when you climbed into bed a few hours ago.
Phillip is sleeping soundly next to you, his soft snores the only semblance of peace you can find.
You turn on your side to face him and your eyes, now fairly adjusted to the dark room, take in his handsome features--silky hair strewn over the white pillowcase, thick eyelashes resting on his cheeks, and plush lips that part as he exhales.
You scoot a little closer, feel the warmth radiating off his body, and turn over again, tucking your back against his chest, and pressing your ass against his lower abdomen.
Phillip mumbles in his sleep as he instinctively wraps an arm around your midriff and pulls you tighter against him.
“Phillip?” you whisper, secretly hoping he’s awake.
He doesn’t respond.
“Philliiip,” you say, a little breathier this time.
Still no response. But the massive hand resting on your stomach slips beneath the hem of your (his) t-shirt. His thick fingers push through the excess fabric until he finds your skin and he sighs.
“Are you awake?” you whisper, and press your ass gently against his crotch for good measure.
Again, no response. But his hand is on the move, climbing north, up your abdomen, until he’s reached his destination, and wrapped all five fingers around your breast.
He doesn’t squeeze or massage it, just rests it there as he continues steadily breathing behind you.
You arch into his touch, silently begging for more and when you press your ass back this time, you feel him half-hard against you.
“Hmm,” you hum in a high-pitched tone as you turn over once more and face him. “Phillip, wake up and fuck me.”
His eyes open.
He’s confused at first—looks at you, looks at the ceiling.
“Hi,” you say with a smile.
“What time is it?” His voice is groggy and laced with confusion.
“Dunno,” you lie, pressing your lips to his chin. “But I can’t sleep. You should fuck me.”
“Oh, I should, huh?” Now he’s smiling, too, as he grips the back of your thigh and hikes it over his hip.
Phillip rolls you onto your back and settles between your legs, his bare chest hard over yours as he kisses you. His lips are soft, his tongue, slow.
He’s grinding against you gently, coaxing whimpers from deep in your throat until he pulls back and drops a line of kisses down the column of your neck.
He sits back enough to push his t-shirt up over your breasts, exposing your hard nipples to his hungry gaze.
Immediately, his hand becomes reacquainted with one of his self-proclaimed favorite t!ts and he wraps his fingers around the sides to hold it steady while his thumb brushes lightly over the hardened nub.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he says, voice gravely and full of sleep. But he’s waking up. “Fuuuuck, your t!ts are so perfect.”
The fabric of your t-shirt creeps south, threatens his view but he’s quick to push it back up before taking your other breast into his hand.
His thumbs toy with your nipples and he cocks his head to watch his forefingers join them to pinch the rosy nubs and coax a moan out of you.
“So responsive to me, huh, baby? You like this? My sleepy girl likes likes when I touch her like this with my T-shirt pulled up to her chin.“
“Uh huh,” you whine, arching into his touch, desperate for more, refusing to correct him that it was in fact, a lack of sleepiness that brought him on top of you.
Phillip bends down and replaces a hand with his mouth, takes half of your breast between his lips and sucks until you keen, then he releases it with a pop. He smirks and does it again, pulling as much of you into his hot mouth as he can manage before letting it plop back down with a bounce.
“I could play with these all day,“ Phillip says. And you know he could because he has many times. He takes your other nipple between his lips and sucks at it, bites it gently, and when you squeal, he releases it.
He continues massaging the other breast with his hand and you arch your back as he siphons as much of your tit as he can into his mouth and makes eye contact with you before releasing it and letting it fall and jiggle beneath his lips.
“Phillip,“ you moan. “Oh, please.”
He keeps both hands on your chest as his lips descend down the center of your abdomen and his tongue dips into your bellybutton.
One hand assists his teeth in removing your cotton panties and you kick them away as he plunges two fingers inside of you without warning. "So tight," he mumbles as you moan. "Just fucked you a few hours ago and already you're so tight and perfect for me, aren't you, baby?"
He scissors his fingers inside of you, curls them, and presses into your g-spot until you cry out. Easing them out of you, he immediately paints your nipples with your arousal and laps it up, sucking furiously at your swollen buds until they ache.
"Fuck, I love it when your t!ts taste like your pxssy," he growls as he tugs his pajama pants down far enough that his c0ck springs free.
You lick your lips at the sight of him--thick and hard, his red c0ckhead sifting through your slit, gathering wetness that he then smears down his shaft with his hand. "Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"
Phillip's words echo in your mind as he slides home, and he pushes the breath from your lungs as he fills you completely.
"Oh my god," you pant as he sits up on his knees and grips your hips, lifting you into position. He gets a good rhythm going, pulling out of you and pushing back in hard enough to make the headboard rattle against the wall.
Once he finds his momentum, his hands find your chest again. "I just can't resist these pretty perfect t!ts. I love them so much. Fuck."
"Phillip, I need-"
"I know, baby," he cuts you off when he drops one hand to your hip again and rubs your c|it. "That better?"
"Fuck, oh my god, yes," you whine as your building org*sm climbs faster, takes you higher. “Phillip… Phillip!”
“Yeah, baby, say my name when you come.”
His hands are working in sync—the one on your breast and the one on your clit. Squeezing, rubbing, a symphony of pleasure as your spine curls in, and your mouth falls open, and you obey his command, but just barely—his two-syllable name escaping your lips in what sounds like three separate words but Phillip doesn’t seem to mind as he works you down from your high, fucking you all the while.
“Yes, fuck, yes,” he grunts, both hands on your tits, holding them like reins as he pumps just a few more times before pushing deep inside of you, his cock swelling and spilling, painting your walls until he collapses on top of you.
Your fingers work through the new tangles in his hair as you brush it out of his face. And Phillip pulls out of you slowly before rolling onto his side, the majority of his torso still draped over yours.
He presses soft, serene kisses to your breasts before laying his head down onto the left one and nuzzling it in an attempt to get comfortable.
“Think you’ll be able to sleep now?” Phillip teases as your fingers comb through his hair.
You laugh, "Mhmm. Think you'll be able to go back to sleep?"
“Yeah,” he says, nuzzling your tit a bit more. “I especially now that I've found my perfect pillow.”