theyâre getting married at Madonnaâs old house itâs so stunning I canât
LOVE!! also speaking of do u know when madonna married guy ritchie it happened in scotland? bewildering. we went up to the cathedral where it happened when i was like 7 and i've never forgotten that fact. also i got a pencil sharpener
you smoked too much weed tonight. you just had a blast with your friends and didnât want the night and the rush to end.
you canât possibly find an explanation for the fact that ross handles the weed so much better. heâs still ross with his composure unchanged. your man.
the man, who you shoved onto the couch as soon as you got back to your flat.
youâve been making out with him so sloppy for the past twenty minutes. youâre just stupidly mouthing and licking and nipping at him while he does nothing but sit and grin, leaning his head back over the back of the couch.
âlove- ngh-â he tries but your mouth is quicker, âbreathe.â
he smiles when your lips chase his with a little too much force and his nose unceremoniously collides with yours. all he does is huff out a muffled laugh against you after feeling you slur an "m'sorry" with the breath you stole right from his mouth.
youâre kissing and slobbering all over his lips, chin and dimples
your hands are running from his chest to his neck and to his hair where youâre gripping and pulling.
âwant you so bad,â you whine out, your hips grinding down against his crotch.
âmhm,â he hums, trying to hold your hips still.
âross,â you moan out, the weed enhancing the friction between your bodies, âplease, oh-â
âjesus fucking-â he throws his head back, âchrist. darling, calm down a bit.â
you pout at him but nevertheless suck marks into his neck and keep rubbing your clothed clit against his bulge. you donât listen to him at all.
âiâm just so-â you whisper against him.
âhorny,â he chuckles, âfuck, nah, actually?!â he jokes. âdarling, seriously, you should have a water or-â
âfuck water,â and youâre back against his lips, âjust want you. need you.â
heâs nodding against you now, understanding how riled up you are and how needy youâre starting to get.
heâs cupping your chin and stroking your cheek telling you, âcanât even think about anything else, can you? just need me so bad?â
you nod so fast, ross needs to watch out so you donât bump your heads together. you thought his questions were inviting you to go further, your hands are wandering down his body and to his fly but he stops you.
he clicks his tongue. âyouâre not only absolutely sloshed but high on weed sâwell and you think iâm going to let you come on my dick?â
you try to free your hands but he has them too tight in his grasp.
âyouâre lovely but iâm too sober and i canât do anything to you in that state,â he brushes his thumb up and down your cheek, âyouâre a smart girl, weâve had many chats about this.â
heâs right. heâs all about the not wanting to take advantage of you while youâre drunk. but youâre too fucking high on him to care.
âplease,â you whine, trying your best pout and puppy eyes to get him to melt. he wonât and he isnât.
âabsolutely not,â he says, âhey-.â
fucking emotions. you donât know why thereâs tears in your eyes right now. itâs not too dramatic because you know heâs going to do everything you want him to do in the morning, when youâre sobered up.
âlove,â he grabs your chin and kisses your lips, âdoesnât mean you canât get off on your own, yeah?â
your eyes light up and you grind down against his crotch again, âlike this?â
âyeah like that,â he tries to hold down a groan and he semi succeeds, âjust knock yourself out, darling.â
summary: england is being gripped by a brutal heat wave. since you can't beat the heat, you and ross decide to make the most of it.
tags: 18+ SMUT. unprotected p in v sex. creampie. tit play. thigh riding. hair pulling. c word... ross has a filthy mouth <3 light degradation and not-so-light praise kink. like 2 seconds of cunnilingus/cum eating. size kink if you squint?
word count: 3960
English summers would be the death of you. Every year, you swore they couldn't possibly get any worse, and every year, you were proven wrong. The severe lack of air conditioning made matters worse. It only took a couple of hours of being awake to realize that this was going to be one of those days where your home felt more like a sauna than an actual comfortable living space. You decided that you needed to change into some cooler clothes as soon as possible.Â
At least you weren't alone in your suffering. Ross didn't seem to be coping much better than you. He always ran hot to begin with, so the summer months tended to be especially torturous for him.Â
As you walk back out to the living room, you find him in the same place you left him â sitting cross-legged in front of an industrial-sized floor fan that he had purchased from God knows where. Ross' back is to you as he absentmindedly scrolls on his phone, no doubt trying to distract himself from the heat. His long hair is tied back in a tight bun, keeping it off his neck. At some point while you were in the other room, he'd seemingly decided that the plain black tee shirt he was wearing was too stifling, and he'd discarded it in a pile off to the side, leaving him in only a pair of athletic shorts. You stare unabashedly at his back, the way his skin is slightly shiny with sweat, the outline of the tattoo above his right shoulder blade. Your face suddenly feels warm, and not just because of the heat.Â
You stifle the feeling the best you can, swallowing in an attempt to make your throat a little less dry.Â
"Still hot?" you ask sympathetically, placing your palm on the back of his neck. Ross' skin feels ablaze beneath your touch, still conducting heat despite your boyfriend's best attempts to cool off.Â
"Fuckin' sweltering," Ross grumbles, turning his head away from his phone to look up at you. "Feels like'mâŠ"Â
When he makes eye contact with you, you swear you can see the exact moment all thoughts are zapped from his head. His words die on his lips as his eyes shamelessly wander your body and the expanse of skin that you now have on display.
"Feels like what?" you ask, already knowing you won't get an answer.Â
Ross' eyes continue their journey down the length of your body, lingering the longest on the swell of your breasts and the way they're being held up by the bikini top you're now wearing.
"What's this, love?" he asks, voice gruff.Â
"What's what?" you ask, playing stupid. "Told you I was gonna change, baby."
"Yeah, well, I didn't realize your tits were gonna be in my face," Ross replies without skipping a beat. His eyes are still locked onto that particular part of your body, shameless as always.Â
"Oh my God," you murmur, suddenly flustered. "They're not in your face."Â
In all honesty, you really hadn't planned on getting this reaction out of him. Your change of clothes had been purely for the sake of cooling off, and you hadn't considered how he might respond. But now, with Ross staring at you like he wants to eat you alive, you realize you probably should have known better. There's no way you could spend any time around him in a bikini top and a pair of tiny shorts and not expect him to do something about it.Â
"C'mere," Ross requests, flashing you one of his signature toothy smiles.Â
But he doesn't actually give you a chance to move before his large hands are on your waist, urgently pulling you down into his lap. You let out a little gasp of surprise as he uses his strength to maneuver you into the position he wants, with you straddling his broad thighs and your chest pressed against his own. The heat radiating off his body is somehow even more intense like this, mingling with your own and making you feel like you're practically melting into him. Everything is hot â your skin, the feeling of his hands against your hips, the very air you breathe. It's intoxicating, and you can't get enough.
Ross' lips are on you before you can react, his warm breath tickling the base of your neck as he presses open-mouthed kisses to the hollow of your throat. A shiver runs down your spine as he dips his head lower, then lower still, beard scratching against your skin. He leaves a trail of goosebumps as he continues his descent, only stopping so his tongue can drag along the top of one of your breasts. Your grip on him tightens instinctively, hands closing around his bare shoulders. Even though you're practically half naked, your clothes suddenly feel too hot for your body.Â
"Now they are."Â
His voice is muffled, and you struggle to make out what he's saying.Â
"What?" you ask, voice strained, trying to focus on his words instead of the bristle of facial hair against one of your most sensitive spots.
Ross pulls away suddenly, looking at you smugly.
"Now your tits are in my face," he says with a proud smirk, hooking two fingers in the strap of your top.
You have to fight the urge to roll your eyes at his comment. Ross is lucky he looks like that â otherwise, his audacity might be his downfall.Â
"You're shameless," you reply, unimpressed.
"You love it."
He is right about that.
You silently permit him to remove your top by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips. Ross responds immediately, greedily slotting his mouth against yours and kissing you deeply. The coarse hair of his beard tickles your lips in the best way possible, making you grin. His hands scrabble at your shoulders as he eagerly tugs at your top.Â
Ross pulls away for just a second, long enough to slip the bikini over your head, but his lips are back on yours in an instant. You whine into the kiss as his hands find the newly exposed flesh of your tits, squeezing and kneading in a way that you know is intended to drive you mad.Â
"Perfect fucking tits," he praises breathlessly, pressing kisses into the valley between your breasts. "God. You're un-fucking-real love, you know that?"
You'd love to respond, but then he takes one of his nipples between your lips and sucks, and you nearly see stars. Your back arches as your fingers find his hair, threading through any loose strands that you can reach as you groan brokenly.
"Fuck â Ross."
That only eggs him on. He drags his tongue over your hardened bud before moving over to your other tit, giving your other nipple the same treatment. You feel him shift beneath you, slotting one of his thighs between your legs, steadily pressing up against where you need him most. Your body responds of its own accord, hips grinding down in an attempt to alleviate some of the discomfort steadily growing in your core.
Ross groans lowly against you once he realizes what you're doing, releasing your nipple from his mouth with a soft pop.Â
"Christ â that's it, love," he says through gritted teeth. "Could probably get yourself off just by grinding against my thigh, huh?"Â
He asks the question even though he already knows the answer. You don't think either of you could possibly forget all of the times he's had you exactly like this, sprawled across his lap with his hands on you and his lips at your ear, urging you to go on and make yourself feel good by gushing all over his thigh.Â
He absolutely knows you could cum like this. He just wants to hear you say it.
"Yeah," you whisper. You swear the muscles in his leg tense beneath you, making you bite back a moan as your clit drags against the fabric of your panties just right. "Feels s'good, Ross. Always does."Â
Your words of praise are like oxygen to him. You can see it in the way his eyes light up when you compliment how good he makes you feel. And you can see it in the physical proof of his arousal, and how the outline of his hard cock is pressed against your thigh.
One of Ross' hands comes down to grab hold of your ass, guiding the rhythm of your hips as you continue to grind against his thigh. His other palm remains on your chest, pulling a desperate little keening noise from you as he lightly rolls one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. It's just rough enough to make you feel like your mind is melting, but not quite rough enough to be unpleasant. At anything, it just makes you all the more aware of the ache between your legs and how badly you need him.
Your eyes flutter shut as you lose yourself in the feeling of him. Your head falls forward to rest against his shoulder, no longer able to support yourself and knowing that he'll be more than willing to do it for you. You bite your lower lip between your teeth as Ross continues to toy with your tits, partially to ground yourself, partially so you don't start sobbing his name nonsensically (even though you're sure he would love that).
And just when you think it might be getting to be a little too much, and you think you may have to tell him that you need a break, Ross stops. His hold on your hip suddenly tenses, keeping you in place against his thigh. His other hand settles under your chin, gently moving your head away from his shoulder so that you have no choice but to look at him.Â
Ross' hair's a mess at this point â courtesy of you. It's almost completely free of the bun he'd so carefully tied back just an hour prior. A few strands stick to his sweat-slicked forehead, and it makes him look almost wild. His dark brown eyes remain visible, hooded and staring at you with an intensity that keeps you pinned to his lap.Â
"Wanna fuck you."
His bluntness makes heat rise to your cheeks.Â
"That's not going to help us cool off," you say, laughing breathlessly, as though you don't want that just as badly as he does. If you were being honest with yourself, he had you the second he pulled you into his lap. You didn't really need much convincing.Â
"Don't care," Ross mutters, his impatience evidenced by the roughness of his tone. "Need it." He punctuates his words with a press of his lips to your neck, beginning to suck a mark into your skin when he feels you shiver against him. "Need you."Â
You tilt your head back, silently offering up more skin for him to mark up, and you feel him hum appreciatively against you. The feeling of vibrations buzzing against your skin makes you clench around nothing.Â
The way that this is going, you wouldn't be surprised if it ended with him fucking you right here on the floor. But no matter how much you want him, that doesn't really sound like a good idea. So, even though it's the last thing you want to do, you pull away from Ross and watch his face fall at the loss of your body pressed against his.
"Not here."
"Couch?"Â
You shake your head. "Gross. It'll get sweaty."
"Oh, fuck that," Ross mutters impatiently. "I'll get it cleaned."Â
His enthusiasm is admirable; you have to give him that. Still, you're unconvinced. You'd rather not have to deal with a mess at all, if you can help it. And the idea of Ross having someone clean a couch stained with sweat and God knows what else, simply because the two of you just couldn't hold yourselves back, is mortifying.Â
You glance around the room, eyes eventually locking on the kitchen counter. It's not ideal, but you know the surface will be cool and easy enough to clean up afterward. And besides, it has been a while since he bent you over and had his way with you.
"What about the counter?" you ask in a manner that's far too innocent for what you're suggesting.
You swear Ross' eyes darken at your words. His grip on your hip certainly grows tighter.
"You're gonna kill me one of these days, love."
"I hope not," you say, leaning forward to press a quick, teasing peck to his lips. "I like having you around."
The two of you nearly trip over yourselves in your haste to get to the kitchen. The short trek across the living room takes about three times as long as it should on account of Ross being unable to keep his hands off of you. You nearly bump into the coffee table on your way over. You're pretty sure Ross did clip it with his shin because he was too busy trying to reach for a handful of your ass to pay attention to where he was going.Â
But after a few more near misses with the furniture, you finally cross the invisible barrier into the kitchen, and Ross doesn't waste any time. Without much preamble, he slips his hands into the waistband of your shorts and pulls them off, bringing your panties with them.Â
"Perfect girl," Ross praises.Â
The flimsy fabric pools uselessly around your ankles, but before you can step out of it, Ross is pulling you into him for another kiss. This one's decidedly sloppier, not that you mind. And then his hands are on your hips, and he's pushing you back, maneuvering you like you weigh nothing. The whole time, he doesn't break the kiss, and neither do you, trusting him to move you where he wants.Â
Ross finally pauses when your lower back presses into the edge of the countertop, stopping the two of you in your tracks. The stone feels sharp and cold in comparison to his touch, and it makes you gasp, startled. The sound immediately pulls him away from the kiss, concern etched on his features.Â
"It's fine," you reassure him. "Just cold."
Ross frowns imperceptibly. "Too cold?"
You shake your head instantly. "No. Besides, that's the point."
"So you get to cool off while I do all the work?"
You smirk. "Something like that."
"Cheeky."
He's barely finished speaking before his hands are back on your hips, and he's gently turning you around so you're facing away from him. You feel his beard brush against your shoulder as he slowly eases you down onto the surface of the counter. Just as you predicted, the marble is cool to the touch, and you find yourself mourning the loss of Ross' warmth. But you don't have to miss him for long. Ross pushes a hand between your shoulders, pressing you farther into the counter so that your back arches. You feel the blunt tip of his cock pressing against your core, and all thoughts of the cold quickly vacate your brain, replaced by a hazy, sickly sweet desire.
"So fucking wet," he mumbles, punch drunk. âSâall for me?â
You nod emphatically â or at least, you try to. The action proves a little difficult in your current position.
"Just for you," you murmur, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as the head of his cock nudges against your clit. "Ross â please, baby."
Thankfully, he doesn't keep you waiting for long. His first thrust nearly knocks the breath out of you, and you find yourself clawing at the countertop in desperation, even though there's nothing there for you to grab. He slowly pushes into you, every inch of his cock feeling like it's splitting you open. No matter how many times you take him, you don't think you'll ever grow fully accustomed to his size, or how delicious the stretch feels when he enters you for the first time. And bent over like this, you can feel him pressing deep inside of you.Â
"Fuck."
Ross' voice comes in the form of a growl against the shell of your ear, low and guttural. You think you could get drunk on the sound alone.Â
He stays still for a couple of beats, giving you the chance to get used to the feeling of him as he bottoms out. But then he's pulling back and rolling his hips forward, thrusting back into you and making you cry out.Â
"Oh â God."
"Just me, love," Ross says darkly. "Me⊠and this perfect cunt."
You can practically hear the self-satisfied smirk in his voice as he falls into a steady rhythm, fucking you hard and deep. You're immensely grateful for the hold he has on your hips, which is the only thing keeping you from falling forward.Â
Ross is usually gentler than this, more than willing to take his time with you and take you apart with his fingers and his tongue until you're practically begging for his cock. But not today. The heat's gotten to him, and it's making him more impatient, more easily frustrated. And secretly â or maybe not so secretly, judging by the way you're gasping and moaning his name â you love it when he gets like this, all hot blood and desperation.Â
Your nails dig into the marble helplessly as he continues to move inside of you. Every drag of his cock presses against that sweet spot inside of you that steals your breath away. You're not sure where the summer heat stops and Ross begins â everything suddenly feels bright and blinding. Warmth permeates from him as he moves behind you, against you, inside you, sweat-slicked skin pressing against sweat-slicked skin.
"Dirty fucking girl," Ross murmurs after you let out a particularly loud moan. "Lettin' me bend you over like this. Walking 'round half naked like you weren't begging for it."
Without warning, one of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you upright so you're no longer pressed against the counter. Ross holds you tightly, pressing his chest against your back, keeping you pinned against him.Â
You jolt when two of his fingers press against your clit, rubbing small, tight circles into the sensitive nerves. You let out a pitiful little moan, and one of your hands instinctively reaches down, gripping his wrist tightly so that he doesn't pull away.Â
"Ross â" you start, but your words fail you. He's sending you hurtling towards the edge embarrassingly quickly.Â
"I know," he replies. "I can feel it."Â
He's referring to the way your pussy is clenching around him, growing tighter as you feel a familiar pleasure starting to lick up the base of your spine. Your nails bite into the skin of his wrist, but if Ross minds, he doesn't say anything. He just keeps applying gentle pressure to your clit, making you whine.Â
"Let go, love." He speaks in a low timbre, pressing his lips against the pulse point in your neck. Somehow, that feels more intimate than anything he's done to you so far. "Wanna hear you cry for me."Â
That's what does it for you.
Ross gets his wish â you cry his name when you cum. Your legs shake violently as your orgasm hits you with full force, and he tightens his hold on you, making sure you don't fall over. It's undeniably intense, and it's only made more intense by the way Ross slows his thrusts to drag your orgasm out, forcing you to feel every single wave of pleasure as it crashes into you.
"That's it," he praises, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth. "Just like that. Perfect girl."
Time seems to stand still as you hang there, suspended in a bliss that's so all-consuming and perfect it's almost agonizing. Ross holds you through it all, keeping his thrusts slow and deep, giving you the opportunity to catch your breath even as he continues to fuck you. But within only a short period of time, his own breathing grows ragged, and you realize with a start that he's not far behind you.
"M'gonna â fuckin' hell," Ross gasps, tightening his hold on your waist. "Where d'you want me?"
He's picking the wrong time to ask this question. Your brain's turned to mush, partially because of the heat, partially because of just how good your previous orgasm felt. To be perfectly honest, you're in a headspace where you'd probably let him do anything he wanted right now, as long as he asked nicely. Â
"Anywhere," you gasp, and you mean it. "Don't care."
Your permission is all he needs.Â
Ross only lasts a couple more thrusts, and then he is pushing deep inside of you, pressing his face into your shoulder as he groans your name like a prayer. You feel his cock twitch as he cums inside of you, filling you up.
Everything becomes still, then. Ross loosens his grip on you, but you still don't pull away from him, more than content to stay still and just breathe for a few minutes. Ross does the same, keeping his hands on your body and resting his head against your shoulder. His touch is gentler now as he caresses your soft skin in an attempt to make up for any roughness.Â
Neither of you seems to be in any hurry to move.
Unfortunately, now that you're no longer distracted by your extracurricular activities, the blazing summer heat is back, returning with a vengeance. And now, you're even more sweaty than you were to begin with, which is somehow making it feel all the more stifling. Slowly, you peel yourself away, trying your best to ignore the jelly-like feeling in your legs, and turn to face Ross.Â
The sight makes you fall in love with him all over again. Ross looks like he just ran a marathon â his face is flushed red, his damp hair is sticking to his forehead, and his chest is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You watch as it rises and falls, paying attention to the way his skin glistens in the harsh light of the sun.Â
God, he looks good like this.
"Hi," you say a little breathlessly, a soft, lazy smile settling across your features.
Ross matches your expression, though you don't miss the slight look of confusion in his eyes. After all, he did just fuck your brains out, and now you're greeting him like he's an old friend.
"Hi." He stares back at you, matching the same lovesick expression that you're sure you're wearing at the moment. Ross reaches up, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. "Missed your face."
"I missed your⊠everything," you say, playfully gesturing at him. How could you not? "Cold shower?"Â
Ross raises an eyebrow. "Are you trying to start round two?"
"I'm trying to cool off, but this giant man won't keep his hands off me," you respond, half-teasing.
"You didn't mind it a second ago."Â
"Slag."
The corners of Ross' eyes crinkle as he laughs at the insult. It's a deep, rumbling sound that immediately makes you feel at ease. He continues laughing as he hooks his hands beneath your arms and easily lifts you up so you're sitting on the counter. Now it's your turn to look confused.Â
"What are you doing?" you ask.
"Gotta clean you up one way or another," Ross replies simply before leaning down and kissing the inside of your thigh.Â
Your lips part in a silent oh of understanding as his hot breath ghosts over your core. And your fingers tangle in his already disheveled hair when Ross laps at your cunt, groaning at the taste of your cum mixing with his on his tongue.
