thinking about an age gap relationship with wilson. he feels undeserving of someone as young as you, so you try to prove to him just how deserving he is. and he reminds you what else love about him at this age…
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*NOT proof read — i basically just word vomited…*
you notice he’s starting to feel insecure, observing himself in the mirror after a hot shower with a look of disappointment across his face. groaning, wilson runs his fingers through his still-wet hair.
you approach him, kissing him softly with hands caressing his heated skin. he doesn’t believe you at first, when you say how much you love everything about him. every sign of age: the grey streaks in the hair by his temples, the wrinkles by his eyes when he smiles, the newfound softness of his stomach. just flattery, he thinks, but you deserve so much more than a middle-aged, thrice divorced, past-his-prime oncologist.
you realize words can’t convince him, so you begin to press your lips from his cheeks to his neck and down his chest until you’re on your knees beneath him. his eyes are wide with vulnerability but simultaneously glazed with lust. as he gives you a nod, you untuck the towel from his waist. it falls and you admire him, bare and raw above you. he is perfect, you don’t know how he doesn’t see it. the ideal balance of soft and strong, every sign of aging adding extra beauty.
you kiss along his stomach for a moment, then his thighs, before taking him in your mouth. the sensation is overwhelming to him, a hand bracing the edge of the bathroom counter. the other instinctively laces into your hair, tightening, as if you were the only thing left to cling to in the world. your head begins to bob, tongue swirling around his tip before your work way down his shaft until your choking at the base of him. the sounds he makes as you take him deep down your throat are sinful and like a symphony to your ears. they’re low and guttural, but whines escape him every time you lick along the slit of his tip.
“fuck - you’re perfect,” he moans as you make eye contact with him through your lashes, teary eyed.
his cock jumps, twitches in your throat. it’s a sign that he’s close, the involuntary movement and the swelling rigidity of him along your tongue. surely this praise, this worship of him would show him just how sexy and worthy he was. suddenly, though, your rhythm was interrupted by a pull on your hair, releasing your suction with a prominent “pop”.
you look up at him, confused, but there is a smirk plastered across his face. with purpose, he helps you up, places his hands on your hips, walking you backwards to the bed. he strips your lounge shorts with ease, tossing them to the ground carelessly before burying his face beneath your thighs, kissing through the fabric of your panties. only a few seconds pass before they’re gone, too. his tongue laps at you with all consuming need, his perfect nose grazing against your clit when his tongue isn’t flicking it with relentless speed.
his skilled mouth was just another sign of his age, his experience. another reason you loved having him at this point in his life.
“fuck — so good,” you sob, bucking your hips.
you feel a smirk spread across his face before he applies a few final sucks to your clit.
before you can process the lack of sensation, he has you pinned down in the deepest mating press of your life. his torso is pressing against the back of your thighs, ankles resting along the slope of his neck, fingers threaded with yours and squeezing tighter with each thrust.
“as much i wanted you to cum on my face,” he grunts. “i had to feel this beautiful tight pussy…”
you writhe beneath him in pleasure, his words making you throb with need. a moan escapes you as he pulls out momentarily before shoving himself back in with ease.
“so, so tight… all mine.”
he knows exactly where your most sensitive spot is, hitting it over and over again with the perfect pressure. intermittently, though, he would delve deeper - his tip massaging your cervix, making you see stars. the feeling is overwhelming, even more so when his agile fingers begin to rub circles against your clit. the pads of his fingers are so soft, but the pressure is perfectly firm.
“none of those little boys knew how to fuck you right, huh baby?” wilson asked smugly, rubbing a new figure eight pattern against your painfully sensitive clit.
“n-no,” you whimper with a knowing grin. there is the confident man you adore.
a near-growl escapes him at your response. it takes only a moment for him to continue, picking up the pace to meet his depth, “yeah, you needed a real man to make you cum.”
a whine of agreement, something like an “mhm” comes from your lips. but it isn’t enough for him.
“isn’t that right, angel?” he asks again, grabbing your chin and thrusting once into you deeper than before.
“ah!” you cry, feeling him nearly in your stomach. “yes! yes, sir. i did.”
he looks like a god above you. sweat beading along his furrowed brow, his greying brown waves sticking to his forehead. his arms are braced, muscles tense. his warm brown eyes switch between adoringly staring into yours and observing the sinful sight of his length come in and out of your soaking cunt.
“please,” you beg, feeling your release close as pressure builds beneath your navel. “please let me cum!”
his face twists in pleasure at your expression of need. “god, y/n,” it’s nearly a whisper. “only if you let me fill you up…”
you nod fervently in agreement, the thought of him cumming inside of you only further quickening your climax.
“let go for me,” he responds, insistence and need in his voice. he doesn’t miss a beat as he speaks, continuing the rhythm that brought you to the edge. “i-i’m close, too.”
his permission is what sends you into euphoria, clenching around him as a heat spreads across your skin, electrifying. your vision blurs, but you still see his eyes shut tightly and mouth drop into an “o”. with a final few thrusts, he releases inside of you. his cum is warm and filling, soothing your stretched walls. he pauses for a moment, settling from his high and taking in the sensation of his seed inside of you. he wouldn’t admit it, but his residual thrusts weren’t just involuntary responses but rather another small effort to ensure you’d stay full of him for as long as possible.
as your heart rates returned to normal, you both practically melt into the mattress. the room humming with heat and the smell of sweat and sex.
“i love you, james,” you sigh, cuddling against his chest. “for exactly how you are now, all of it.”
still catching his breath, he smiles down at you. his hand presses against your cheek as he leans down, kissing your forehead softly. “i love you, too, my beautiful girl.”