Summary: Terry letting you wear yourself out on that thang. That’s it, that’s all.
Warning(s): riding, sexual innuendos, dirty talk, mentions of oral (f receiving), may be some errors
The day started off great, just as any other day would. You woke up to an empty bed, which was normal considering you were married to a damn lark. Terry always rose before the sun for whatever reason, but that never stopped you from getting your full eight hours worth of beauty rest.
You’d entered the kitchen to see your usual morning sight: Terry, shirtless and sweaty after his morning run. Though you tried to keep your footsteps soft, Terry and his super marine hearing sensed you coming from a mile away. He peered over his shoulder with his cloudy green eyes and flashed a rarely seen smile— well, rare to everyone but you— before scooping up the fresh cup of coffee he’d always have ready for you whenever you decide to grace the world with your presence.
Silently reminding yourself that it was too damn early to be horny, you kept your eyes above the neckline and accepted your cup of joe and one of many morning kisses. You spent the next ten minutes of leisure time as you normally did: Smiling at the sweet and expected gesture, giggling at the compliments and complimentary kisses that came along with your coffee, and squealing when Terry’s hands would roam and squeeze at some of his favorite parts of your body.
You’d left home some time later with a smile on your face as Terry always made sure you did, but just when you thought the exceptional morning meant your day would be perfect, here came your fucking boss.
Rude, loud, and disrespectful. Commanding and demanding the most ridiculous things as soon as the damn office opened. You’d always tried your best to stay respectful and hold your tongue when came at crazy, and today was no different. You’d just constantly remind yourself that this was your boss, and as much as you couldn’t stand her ass, you still loved your job and didn’t want to risk losing it over a boss doing what bosses do.
Then came your coworker Sandra, who also happens to be the bosses daughter. Rude and entitled much like her mother, Sandra always knew how to push just about everyone in the offices buttons, but for some odd reason yours were her favorite to push. You’d trained yourself not to give her the reaction she so desperately tried to get from you, but that still didn’t mean she didn’t get under your skin from time to time.
By the time the end of the day rolled around, Sandra and her mother had worked together to make today the day from hell. Two caseloads, another cup of coffee, and three near blowups later, you’d finally made it back home. The smile you once had on your face when you left was long and gone when you returned, and Terry noticed immediately. From his spot on the couch, he watched you toss your keys onto the kitchen counter and kick your shoes off much harder than necessary. Though your shoulders should’ve relaxed after the long breath you released, they remained tight and tense, telling Terry more than he knew you probably would.
You tended to shut down when frustrated, a bad habit that Terry had both picked up on and learned to remain patient with. However, knowing this wouldn’t stop him from coaxing as much information as he could out of you.
Terry pushed himself up from his seated position and began his path toward you. His long legs got him there in milliseconds, standing tall and protective in front of you. The crisp new wife beater he wore clung to his torso like you did when you would hug him and the dark grey sweats he wore hung low on his hips just how you liked it. His unintentional sexiness almost made you forget why you were mad. Almost.
He remained silent for a moment, watching intently as you looked everywhere but at him. Then, his left hand raised to your hip giving it a double tap with his index and middle fingers. You took that nonverbal command for what it was and finally looked up at him, his stormy eyes already meeting yours halfway.
For a second he still said nothing. He just stood still and examined your expression as much as you’d allow him to. The slight pout on your lips and semi-wet eyes told him enough, prompting him to finally speak.
“Talk to me.”
The words were simple, but when you have a day like you just had, it’s enough to damn near cause a break down. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from crying and lowered your head, shaking it just enough for the gesture to be noticeable.
“I’m fine,” you muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.
But you should’ve known that wouldn’t be good enough for him. You did know it wasn’t good enough for him. That’s why it was no shock when his hand came to cup your chin and gently forced your head up to meet his gaze again. There was silence once again from him as he scanned your face for another read. This time your mood was clear. Your face held a plethora of emotions. Frustration, anger, and a hint of sadness all at once.
“You’re not upset for nothing, Peach.”
The patience he had with you was evident in both his tone and the use of your pet name. He’d given it to you when the two of you had just began dating many years ago. He said the name reflected your personality and common mood. As sweet as could be. An alternative meaning for that nickname came a bit later in the relationship when the two of you had been intimate for the first time. He said the chosen name was perfect because you in the bedroom mirrored a Peach perfectly: sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty. But that was beside the point. The fact of the matter was that right now, your mood was anything but sweet.
A sigh slipped past your lips as you once again averted your gaze from his, afraid that he’d read too deep into you and cause you to break down in the middle of the living room. “It’s just work, T,” you muttered a tad bit lower than before. “Nothing serious.”
“I think it is serious if it’s got you this upset,” Terry argued. Not in an ill intended way. Just in a way that let you know he wasn’t buying the watered down story you were selling. Hand still cupping your chin, Terry nudged upward just a tad bit higher in an attempt to get your attention back on him. “Look at me.”
You reluctantly obliged and once again locked eyes with Terry, only this time, there was no reading. He’d already put it together. “Your boss?”
Just the mention of that bitch had you fighting the urge to roll your eyes, but to answer your husband’s question, you nodded.
“She frustratin’ you again?”
You mimicked your earlier action once more, nodding as you again bit down on your cheek. “Yeah, Sandra, too.”
Though your voice was barely above a whisper, Terry heard you loud and clear. He kept his stance just a few moments more before relaxing, his hands falling unoccupied at his side before they snaked around your waist. His thumb rubbed soothing circles around your lower back in an effort to get you to relax even a bit. Yeah sure, your boss and her gnat of a daughter pissed you off today. But you were home now, with him.
“You gotta stop doing that, Peach,” Terry murmured, arms wrapping tighter around you as he pulled you closer.
Now chest to chest, your dainty hands came to rest on his biceps. “Doing what?”
“Shutting down,” he elaborated, index finger drumming your hip. “You always shut down when you’re upset and you leave me out the mix. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s goin’ on.”
You nodded in response, head lowering in shame. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Mm-mm, don’t do that,” Terry hummed, immediately following up with a kiss to your forehead, then one to your cheek, then one to your jawline, then multiple to your neck as you giggled lowly. “I’m not mad at you, baby. I just want you to be happy. And I want you to be comfortable telling me when something is botherin’ you. Even if it’s not me, alright?”
With a nod and a muttered agreement, you took the time to appreciate Terry’s effort at getting you to open up. Although you appreciated it, that still didn’t remove the effects of today’s ware and tear from your body. You were still frustrated. Still annoyed. Still tense. But that wasn’t a problem for Terry. All he needed you to do was tell him what was bothering you. He was down to handle the rest.
And that’s what got you to where you are now.
Bare and hot on top of him, knees working overtime to keep you upright as you bounced up and down at the same breathtaking pace. Not too idle. Not too brisk. It was somewhere perfectly in between. Terry watched comfortably beneath you, hands folded and tucked behind his head as he remained still, careful not to disturb your rhythm.
Your bottom lip had to be tired of you biting it, but that seemed to be the only way you could keep your sounds under control and keep the two of you from receiving a noise complaint in a few hours time. Your hands assisted in keeping you steady with their resting spot being on Terry’s abdomen, fingers dragging through the creases of his abs when you felt them flex under the pressure of you repeatedly landing in his lap.
Tongue darting out to moisten your parched lips, you let a whine slip past the barrier you’d tried your hardest to build. “Terryyy…”
He looked up at you, expression stoic and emotionless besides the lust clouding his already piercing eyes. “What you callin’ me for? You doin’ that shit to yourself.”
Brows furrowed and mouth hanging ajar, you looked down to where the two of you connected. You watched your fluids pile up at the base of his phallus in near disbelief. Almost as though you couldn’t believe what you were making yourself do. Like him saying it out loud was what made you realize it. Even still, it was partly his fault. Nobody told him to have all that dick.
Another sound slipped past your lips, this time resembling more of a squeal as the angle of your hips made it nearly impossible for his throbbing tip to miss your spot. “Fuuuckkk!”, you slurred through a moan, head falling backward and eyes rolling to a close.
“Mhm, there you go,” Terry cooed while simultaneously reaching out to you, hand wrapping snug around your throat. “Keep that shit movin’. Just like that.”
The sudden air restriction caused you to gasp, hand coming up to wrap around Terry’s wrist. The grip you had on his hand matched the grip you had on his dick, your walls contracting around his girth at the depth of his voice and commands. There was something about the two of you being in a position where you had the opportunity to be in full control, yet Terry still finding a way to be in charge. Your body’s response to his commands showed exactly how you felt about them, your walls gushing with arousal.
Your internal temperature grew hotter with every passing minute, the aching in your legs contributing to your thermal increase. But unfortunately, that wasn’t stopping shit. You were gonna get your nut even if it meant riding this Harley until your legs gave clean out. Well, your third nut. Terry had already coaxed two out of you with that talented mouth of his, eating away half the frustration you’d returned home with. He left it up to you to ride out the rest.
“Fuck…why you so wet, Peach?” Fingers tightening around your throat, Terry bit down on his bottom lip as his free hand came up to strike your ass cheek. “Hm?”
There were so many answers to that question. Maybe because you had a fine ass man beneath you letting you use him for your pleasure with no consequences. Or maybe it was because you had a big ass dick invading the deepest part of you, pulsing and throbbing against your wetness to cause almost euphoric sensations. Or maybe it was just because you were in love. It didn’t matter which response was most fitting, because you couldn’t even muster up the strength to give him one.
Instead you peeled your eyes open, gaze immediately connecting with his. The two of you watched each other through different eyes: yours soft and submissive, his hard and dominant. “You so fuckin’ pretty.”
You moaned in response, stomach swarming with butterflies at him somehow always knowing what to say and when to say it. Eyes fluttering shut, your head had almost fallen back again before Terry’s hand moved to cup your jaw. “Mm-mm, keep them eyes on me.”
You obliged, eyes opening to find his. You watched as his lip found its way between his teeth again, his thumb stroking your cheek as soft as could be. Then the pad of his thumb found its way to your bottom lip, rubbing across it a few times. “Open…”
Following instructions with a submissive moan, your semi-parted lips opened wider to allow his thumb entry, and you made sure to give it a warm welcome with your tongue and lips. A slick thrust from below had your teeth nearly sinking into the flesh, but you’d managed to hold back before continuing to suck on his thumb.
“So beautiful…”, Terry muttered, watching as your eyes rolled to a close and you moaned around his thumb, the throbbing of his phallus causing your stomach muscles to tighten. “and so fuckin’ nasty.”
How could he say that when he was the one who made you this way? You can confidently say you had never been this nasty until you got with Terry. This motherfucker had you doing shit you would’ve never even thought to do with anyone else, but you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you said you didn’t love it.
He pulled his thumb away and you released it with a ‘pop’, then watched with doe eyes as he used that same saliva covered thumb to rub your clit in slow, sloppy circles. But you were the nasty one? Yeah, okay.
The new sensation caused a buck in your hips, a sound of louder pitch escaping your lips as your eyes did yet another roll inward. “Babyyy…s-shit!”, you whined as you tried to keep your pace through the tightening of your walls and flexing of your stomach muscles. The sensation omitted a groan from Terry, but nothing more than that as he kept his eyes trained on you.
It’s not that he wasn’t feeling good, because he damn sure was. It was just the fact that tonight was your night. Y’all could worry about him later. Right now, it was all about you.
“You look so good up there, Peach. You don’t even understand,” he cooed, tongue slowly protruding to wet his lips as he watched you slowly but surely unravel.
You’d call him a damn lie if you weren’t in your current position. You could just feel that you looked a mess. Hair puffy and wild, lips parched and dry, skin hot and tacky. Terry didn’t give a fuck. “Them hips, them thighs, your face…”, he murmured, the rotation of his thumb staying constant. “Can’t even keep your fuckin’ eyes open. I got you feelin’ good, huh, baby?”
“Yesss, oh my god!”, you squealed, head lolling back as your toes began to curl against the mattress.
Hissing at your sudden tighter grip, Terry’s brows furrowed a tad deeper. “Why you grippin’ me like that? Hm?” You knew the answer, and so did he. But your almost non-coherent words made it hard to give him one. “You finna cum? Is that what it is?”
You nodded frantically, the pace of your bounces starting to increase. “You gon’ cum for me, mama? You gon’ show me how wet you can get for me?”
“Y-yesss, fuck! I’m gon’ cum for you, daddy!”, you moaned, toes curling tighter as you grabbed his free hand and interlocked your fingers. The speed of his thumb started to increase to match the pace of your bounces, your sounds now being full on pornstar moans.
“Chase that shit then, Peach. Show me how wet this pretty pussy can get for me.”
He didn’t need to tell you twice because you already felt it coming. Nails clawing at his chest, your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth hung ajar as your walls closed as tight as they could. The groans omitted from him only assisted with your heavenly climax, thighs trembling as you tried your hardest not to wake the neighbors, though both you and Terry were sure you had probably already done that.
“There you go. Get what you need, pretty girl,” Terry cooed, thumb still rotating on your sensitive center even though your bouncing had come to a steady halt. “Let that shit out.”
Chest heavy with pants, you absentmindedly wound your hips against his thumb, riding out your high to its highest potential. When you were done, you and your throbbing center had had enough. Your hand had quickly found Terry’s, grabbing hold of his wrist. “Mm, fuck, okay…I’m tapped out,” you huffed through short breaths, pushing his thumb away from your now sore pleasure point.
You lifted yourself off of his length with a wince before collapsing back onto his chest. “You good?”
Fuck no you weren’t good. Your body may as well been filled with noodles. Your legs and back were as good as gone, and don’t even get started on your knees. “Don’t even think about touching me for the next two weeks.”
You weren’t sure yet if you were joking or not, and neither was Terry, but for now you’d just go to sleep, good, fucked, and happy.
Pairing: husband!terry richmond x black fem!reader
Words: 3.7k words
Summary: Terry seeks comfort from the only person who can give it to him.
Notes: Minors DNI. Smut, oral: fem receiving (0ver-stimulation) and cursing. Light by my standards lol. I had to force myself to stop revising this so please forgive any errors. I'll find em eventually and fix it. 😭 In the future I plan on alternating between fluff and smut so the next one should be fluffy/angsty.
Here's a visual of the position used. Not quite the same but close enough 👀: *nsfw pic link*
Also please don't repost this on any other sites. Reblogs/comments/likes make me happy.
Tags: @megamindsecretlair @melaninpov
Something isn’t right. You look over to the side and discover the space occupied by your husband is empty. He was there a moment ago, proud and silent in his admiration for you while you sat mesmerized by the view. This picnic was the culmination of a month-long struggle to find balance with work and each other. All you cared about was reconnecting with him in a garden straight out of a fairytale for as long as possible, forever if you had it your way. Now he was nowhere to be found.
You rationalize his absence by assuming he must’ve forgotten something in the car. Likely an item you’d noticed earlier and convinced yourself not to purchase. Satisfied with your answer you lay back on your thick cotton blanket face to the infinite stretch of blue, uninterrupted by clouds with your arms and legs stretched out in opposite directions as far they'll comfortably reach. That’s when you notice the dress you’d been wearing has somehow vanished as well. You don’t bother pursuing logic this time. It’s beautiful outside and warmed to the ideal temperature for sunbathing. Now you’re a part of that beauty, perfectly made and carefree.
The sun’s warmth penetrates your brown skin and you relax into a gratified acceptance with your eyes closed and a smile on your face. A breeze grazes your skin. You part your legs to it exploration. It's subtle at first then harder as it sweeps up your legs and fixates on your intimate parts. You moan as your hips begin to move in a sensual dance interrupted by something you can’t name. Then you realize the golden reddish hue behind your eyelids is gone. It's dark, darker than it should be for the time of day. You find it impossible to care with so much pleasure running through your system. It doesn’t matter who or what is responsible for your predicament. They can keep you so long as they promise never to stop.
The unknown force answers with more delicious suction. It draws your body into a tight arch and pulls the breath from your lungs. Breathing is pointless where you’re headed. While your brain can’t fathom the destination, it doesn’t get in the way of supplication once you're finally pushed over the edge.
"Terry..." You moan the name forever present in your heart and mind. His location is still unknown, you trust him to always find you.
"I’m here love." The voice is muffled. You recognize its owner the second you hear it. The pleasurable void you’ve fallen into rematerializes as soft sheets against your back. Everything else gradually comes into focus, your husband's massive hands anchored on your waist, the prick of his facial hair as his tongue and lips move along your slick folds made warm by each labored breath he takes. Your eyes reset themselves forward as you attempt to reorient your place in the real world, a simple task made difficult by his unwillingness to pull his tongue from your drenched hole. Delirious but still guided by habit you manage to catch sight of the alarm clock on your nightstand. 3:00am.
"Shit…We have to be up in a few more hours--" Your hands act in contradiction to your words, pulling him in closer by the neck to keep him on the right spot. "Baby..."
"I know." He flattens his tongue against your clit and latches on. You realize he's responding to the urgency in your voice and not the truth you’re attempting to speak.
Where your first orgasm was tempered by your dream, the second attacks your senses at full force. His strong capable hands absorb the shock as they hold you in place. It's several minutes before your thrashing subsides to gentle undulations from the heavy breaths passing through your body. His fingers knead the flesh around your waistline. Even though his lips are still dangerously close to your pussy you feel more like the wife he’s attempting to soothe and less like the midnight snack you've been made into. You melt among the pillows with your eyes closed one hand loosely cradling the back of his head, the other bent and draped across your face as he makes out with your inner thighs. It takes you a while to recover your voice, a little longer to remember what you intended to say next.
"What’s wrong papa? Did your regret for not playing with me earlier finally wake you up?”
He doesn’t speak right away. The answer reaches you in the silence long before his words give confirmation.
"I’d take regret over these dreams I keep having. They’re getting worse."
Six months ago, Terry nearly lost his life attempting to protect his cousin. His outer wounds have healed up nicely. It's the scars left on his soul that provoke your bloodlust. If you had your way those piece of shit cops would’ve received their karma long before the worst happened. Mike would be alive. The man you love, a man accustomed to sleeping peacefully by your side every night wouldn’t be routinely attacked by demons you couldn’t see.
Most nights you’re promoted to the role of big spoon. You hate the circumstances, but it settles the panic in your heart to hold your mountain of a man in your arms and grant him the protection he’s given you over the years. Tonight, he's found a different way to cope, a method worth keeping in your toolbelt even if it means resembling a zombie for the rest of the day.
"Baby I’m sorry. You should’ve woken me up." You reach down to massage his ears with both thumbs before attempting to bring him to eye level. He resists by nuzzling his face in your thigh.
"Technically I did wake you up." He mumbles, filtering kisses between increasingly labored breaths. The path his lips are taking force you into a conundrum. Press the issue or trust his methods. Brains weren’t meant to work this hard at this hour. It’s cruel and unfair when you realize Terry isn’t weighted down by the same predicament. Every time his breath passes over your sensitive lips you feel your logic slipping further away. He’s giving you a reason to forget and move on. You’re also his wife. The one person on this shitty planet he can always rely on, the only person crazy enough to sacrifice a third orgasm so close after the second to protect his heart from the lie he was attempting to maintain.
You find a compromise in the minute that passes, maybe two. It’s hard to separate the details when he’s making every attempt to bury his face in your pussy. You struggle to be assertive. It’s the desperation in your voice when you say his name that eventually gets him to lift his head.
The room is dark, the moonlight casts a glow across the top half of his face just enough to see his eyes. He reminds you of a sad puppy being chastised for something they don’t understand. The expression breaks your heart and makes you smile as you stroke his jawline, your upturned lips on full display to match his sad look.
“I need to make sure you’re okay and not telling me what you think I need to hear. We deal with this together. Not apart.”
He nods and turns his face into your hand to kiss your palm. There's an uncomfortable silence in the room, but you remain patient, resisting the urge to pry the answer from his now visibly tense body.
“I dreamed I lost you.” His delayed response is both a relief and heartbreaking as the previous dreams he’s shared replay in your mind. All include some variation of him being imprisoned. None include a happy ending for him or for Mike. Leaning down to kiss the top of his head, you mimic his vice like hold once he buries his face in your stomach.
Regret mixes with the anger you were already struggling to contain. It fills the room, ensnaring you in contradictory thoughts. Sit on his face to make you both feel better or do what Terry refused to and murder the men responsible for making him feel anything less than a hero, for desecrating the space in his heart reserved for the people he loved. You could only really be mad at yourself for pressing the issue. Orgasms were a far better reward than listening to the gruesome details of your presumed demise. Given what he's been through your mind takes you to the worse possible options. You’re prepared to listen but aren’t sure how you'll get back to sleep afterward this.
"Nothing is going to happen to me." You soothe him with more kisses and tender reassurances. He answers with a tighter grip like he’s expecting something to challenge your words.
"We fought about everything…” He starts. You prepare for the story to get progressively worse. “One day you show up with some random ass light skinned fucker with a crooked hairline. I’m thinking he’s the new gardener only to find out you’re leaving me for him. You kicked me out. Had me sleeping in a tent in the backyard while some bum ass bitch wore my clothes and fucked my wife. Losing you is one thing. Losing you to a leprechaun who can’t grow a proper beard is bullshit."
You were anticipating having your throat slashed or a hole torn in your chest by a monster you couldn’t outrun. This was somehow worse because Terry was dead serious yet nothing he said warranted a serious response.
"Ok, first of all, you’re light skinned too."
Clearly you were being tested and failing miserably. You'd taken a deep breath in the hopes of drawing something positive and meaningful into your thoughts. All you managed to do was bring up a past hilarious debate about him being caramel and not chocolate like he proclaimed himself to be. Terry’s head shot up like someone had lit a fire underneath him. You can feel him staring you down and instantly crack under the pressure.
"Be serious woman."
The poor man is clearly traumatized. You bite down on your cheek for his sake before giving him a direct view of your face, wide eyed and filled with doctored innocence that crumbles by the second. “I’m trying!” You fuss. “But you’re being awfully specific about this man's appearance."
"I saw the fucker clear as day like I’ve seen him before…I’m taking you to work. Might even stay just to be safe."
The conviction in his voice tells you not to brush off his words. You can imagine him now posted up in your office surveying the area. He wouldn’t hover or say much, his domineering presence and chiseled muscles on full display would guarantee no woman within a 30-mile radius was productive. You would be at the top of the list. Unlike half the women in your office you had zero decorum in your husband’s presence. The last thing you needed were your colleagues gossiping about you getting fucked in your office.
"My dear sweet husband aren’t you being a little unreasonable?” Posing the question in a song doesn’t have the desired effect. It merely gives him a reason to frown harder.
"Hell no. I’m not taking anything for granted anymore, especially when it pertains to you. Far as I’m concerned this was a message from God to protect my home.”
There’s plenty to laugh at. Even less to challenge. You were looking at your answered prayer, a literal message from God to prove men like Terry weren’t a fantasy. This one was real and more than you could’ve hoped for. In honor of that gift you smile and nod in agreement and prepare to be followed everywhere.
“I can’t say you’re wrong. I can tell you no one at work fits the description.” He ponders while you stroke his neck. He isn’t silent for long.
“He could be a new security guard or the person delivering the mail."
"Mhm, I could forgive the wrinkles in a UPS uniform. Something about those brown shorts makes me feral. I’m getting wet thinking em." The laugh you’ve been holding sputters from you, putting tears in your eyes.
Terry sucks his teeth and gestures to raise up completely. He doesn’t get far when you throw your arms around his neck. He grunts but lets you have your way. "It's not funny."
"You’re right baby. It's not. Dream me is a dumb ass bitch. I’d never leave you, especially not for an obviously unattractive man with tiny feet and a crooked hair line. You’re so pretty daddy. No one with sense would ever look anywhere else." You lean forward to coax a smile from him with a kiss. You feel his jaw loosen and his fingers grip up your ass. "I love you."
All the humor in your voice is gone, replaced with an unmistakable sincerity that eases Terry back to the calm levelheaded man he's always been. "You’re taking the necessary steps to heal. It's not something you'll ever forget but you’re going to be okay. We both are. The fact we can laugh about any of this is progress. Now I’ll promise to keep my sidepiece out the house you pay bills in if you promise not to stalk me from the parking lot."
He chuckles. "Promise."
It's nearly 4am. In two more hours you'll have to be up for work. Hardly enough time for a decent rest but your body will hate you if you don’t try to get back to sleep. You kiss your husband one last time and gently lay a hand on his chest to pull away only to be met with resistance.
"Wait. I still need to prove it to myself."
"Prove what baby?"
“That you won’t give up on me. That I won’t lose you." He speaks against your lips, his voice moving through you like the low rumble before a storm. It stirs up the lust cast aside for his benefit. You feel it in your belly and everywhere his tongue has been. The energy in the room changes with the dark look in his eyes. He drinks you in saying nothing and everything with his calculated gaze. Awareness pricks at your skin off the strength of his possession moves. Then his hands are on you, lowering your arms from around his neck to your sides. He seizes your waist and hums as if contemplating something. Before you can ask the question, you lose the words in the swift rearrangement on to your stomach. You gasp from the shock while the rest of you uses all your energy to push against the sturdy fingers holding your wrists down. Freedom isn’t your goal. You resist solely to reinforce his dominance and feed your desire to test his nature. You want him to stake his claim and issue a warning to anyone daring to look in your direction even if the rival in question is a phantom conjured up by his subconscious.
Handcuffs aren’t an option for obvious reasons. You wonder if binding your hands together with rope will achieve the same shuddering response to being cloaked with his weight. You’re completely helpless and content to stay right where you are, one with mattress, one with him.
"Say you'll never leave me." His warm breath passes over your ear before his teeth sink down on flesh.
"I'll never leave you." You whisper back, moaning appreciatively when he kisses down the column of your neck down between your shoulder blades. His hands aren’t pinning you down anymore, but you try your best not to move as his tongue traces a warm and agonizingly slow line down your spine to your ass.
"I’ve never taken a life. I will if it means keeping you safe…You belong to me " Terry had taken down an entire police force without sending anyone to hell where they belonged. It was comical to think a man she never met; a man who didn’t exist could provoke him to use lethal force. The unexpected sting of teeth clamping down on your backside jolts you out of your musing. He's fully awake now, unfettered by slumber and past traumas. He doesn’t need to be gentle or ask for permission. The pain from that discovery offers an indescribable contribution to the pleasure you’ve experienced thus far. You can’t distinguish the two anymore the harder he bites.
"Yes." It's an reiteration and an apology for earlier all wrapped up in jarring acceptance. This isn’t the man you fell asleep next to hours ago. You aren’t the same either. His influence has unlocked a part of your brain that craves the pain and the pleasure it brings. If branding you with his teeth will bring him peace you want that too.
You moan and arch toward your captor’s mouth. He answers the invitation with a growl, yanking you on to your knees, driving your face into the comforter to deepen the arch in your back. You’re already spread obscenely open. He spreads you further with his thumbs and stops moving. He’s probably smiling in that subtle way you catch when he thinks no one’s watching. This isn’t quite the same. He's taunting you with proximity, close enough to feel the heat from his breath, far enough away to create an ache only he could soothe.
"Please." He's reduced you to this, folded in half and shameless in your attempts to reach his mouth. When he does finally lick his way inside everything else in the world melts away.
He's merciful but also deliberate in the way flattens the wide breadth of his tongue along the length of you, slurping you up like ripe fruit he intends to savor. All you can do is shudder and mewl as he groans into your slick heat, rubbing his face in it, masking himself with your scent. The message isn’t for you. It's for him. You hope it soothes the disquiet in his heart the way it's cleared out the baggage in your mind. All thoughts lead back to him, the thorough way he draws tight circles over your clit and the depths he reaches as he simulates the way he would fuck you if he had the willpower to trade places with his tongue.
He makes himself comfortable, stretching out his legs alongside your writhing body. His ankles provide a stable anchor for trembling hands. Then they’re caging you in, limiting your range of movement.
The sheets absorb your screams as you cum without warning and no sign it’ll end any time soon. You push toward his face at the same rate you pull away. Escape isn’t the goal. It's the only proper response to sensory overload. Indescribably good and too much to handle all at once. Terry is right there with you, latched on and undeterred by your frenetic movements, grunting indecipherable praise despite the pressure your thighs have placed on his ears. At this rate you’re going to claw the sheets to shreds or beat a hole in the mattress. Then he's putting his entire body into it, crossing his ankles behind your head to lock you in place.
Weeks ago, you expressed an interest in learning Jiu-Jistu. You expected detailed commentary while you observed from the sidelines or watched a video. This wasn’t how you envisioned your first lesson or any lesson. You weren’t even sure if this was a legit move or something he’d improvised. The absurdity of it doesn’t register correctly in your mind. Instead you’re grateful, grateful for his strength, for his persistence, for his ability to find healing through forced orgasms even it’s obvious he’s lost his mind in the process. Unlike the dream version you take your vows seriously. You accept Terry at his best and his worst, through nightmares and a demonic possession.
Panic opens your mind to a ridiculous thought. He's going to kill you. The irrational part of your brain is convinced you won’t survive another orgasm. You can’t bring yourself to resist the rapid strumming on your clit and the spike in pleasure it produces. You’d gladly give your life for it. Leave earth with a smile on your lips and a memory worth immortalizing in the afterlife. To call your bluff Terry brings his thumb from your fluttering hole to the soft flesh of your ass. He prolongs the suspense with teasing swipes around the rim then very slowly pushes through your defenses when he feels you’re ready for it. Something in your brain malfunctions. You start to whine like a caught animal. They’re the kind of sounds you’d find embarrassing if you weren’t in the presence of a grown ass man.
The last thing you hear before you explode is Terry’s deep voice in your ear. "Good girl."
When you return to consciousness, you’re still face down with a damp spot under your cheek and under your pelvis. Terry is stretched across your back crooning in your ear about how proud he is of you, how beautiful you are, how in love with you he is. His touch is equally soothing as he trails down your forearms to interlock your fingers. You haven’t stopped trembling. It’s worse in your legs. Even the slightest movement revives the memory of where his tongue has been. You find comfort in the fetal position anyway. Terry is right there to reinforce the hold, cradling you with his entire body so he doesn’t lose you in the subspace you’ve drifted off to. When the consequence of his overindulgence subsides to a light shudder you feel his coiled lips at your temple.
“Are you proud of yourself?”
“Maybe.” He drawls, the pride evident in his voice. “You’re still shaking baby. Are you good? Did I hurt you?
“Of course you didn’t. I’m a little floaty but I kinda want you to break me again--just to make sure I like it.” You offer a lazy smile and reach back to scratch his cheek. "What about you? Are you finally convinced I won’t run off with your ugly ass replacement?”
His laughter sounds like music. You wonder how he can find the joy in anything with his stiff dick left unattended and drooling precum on your backside. It’s all you can think about now.
"I am."
"Good because it’s never going to happen. I’m also not going to work today. I can’t function like this." Despite your predicament you use the distraction to your advantage and raise your thigh to accommodate him. A little maneuvering slots the tip between your lips but doesn't quite make it inside. You whimper and try again.
“No. You’ve had enough sweetheart.” You’re more than a little disappointed when he pushes your legs shut.
“I can keep going. Let me take care of you.”
“You have taken care of me baby.” A kiss is all it takes to end your pouting. Like a greedy brat, you twist around to claim another, then one more to sample your flavor on his lips. His dick stirs against you, it doesn’t persuade him to be anything less than noble. “I plan on keeping you in this bed all day. Get some rest. I’ll have you later.”
Terry’s demeanor remains unchanged as he realigns your back to his chest and slips is muscled leg over your restless ones. He’s given you a preview, a reminder, and a warning. You aren’t sure how well you’ll sleep knowing what you know but you snuggle up to his arm tucked beneath the pillow.
“I love you.”
Those three words calm the restlessness in your heart and get you to shut your eyes.
"I love you too handsome. Try not to dream about me."
Black orchid & patchouli has been in the air ever since the bathroom door opened. Sure, it’s died down some. Yet, still, the source of the smell is present.
Just a foot or two away from him.
She’s in her own world, listening only to her thoughts.
He knows.
He remembers when she told him that getting dressed is her favorite part of the day. It’s during that time she usually turns her brain off, and allows her body to move on autopilot.
It’s the perfect chance to just simply exist for her.
It’s very calming, he understands.
She looks so at peace as she moves. So lost in her own head that she never really realizes that he’s staring.
He always does.
She doesn’t even know that his favorite part of the day is watching her get ready.
Her limbs move with grace; A true vision when she drops her fluffy, white towel to the bed, baring her body to the privacy of this room.
Their bedroom.
When it comes to moisturizing, her routine is always the same: arms first, abdomen, legs, then feet. Being that they’re just reaching the end of winter, gourmand and cozy scents have her preference as of late.
The scent of today is different, however; light, floral, and warm.
He can’t quite catch the notes—maybe there’s a hint of pepper. But, it isn’t offending. Actually, it works just perfectly on her; an added bit of spice to her sweetness.
So entranced by the smell, he doesn’t even realize how long he’s been pondering on it. He’ll have to ask her about that one, he thinks as he recenters his focus.
She’s moved to her stomach, rubbing the body butter into her skin. Off-white slowly melts into warm brown skin as she takes her time to massage it in.
Her palms, flat against her body, keep going in circles. Circling, circling, circling her lower tummy—right below her navel. So tender, gently pressing into the relaxed muscles of her stomach.
The first thought that pops into his head: a baby.
He almost laughs out loud, it’s so stupid. So ridiculous how such a simple act—his woman taking care of herself—can get him to think of something so intense. So life changing.
It’s scary, the idea of having a family of his own. But … with her?
That alone settles him.
If anyone has the potential to be the perfect mother, it’s her. He believes in her. So much.
“Terry?”
Her voice is pure silk. He almost doesn’t hear it.
“Yeah, baby?”
Taking up the small tub of body butter, she outstretches her hand to him. Its sparkling scent fills the air, it’s all he smells.
“Help me, please?”
He looks up from the swirled butter in the tub to warm brown eyes, staring back at him over a shoulder.
Her back is presented to him. The divot of her spine runs down its middle, tailed by twin dimples at the small of her back.
Below the left dimple, closer to her hip rather than directly under it, is his name in scripted black ink: 𝑹𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒅.
It’s so tiny, that his thumb covers it every time he holds her there.
And below that is an ass that he feels blessed to see every day. It sits up, the brown skin smooth and unmarred. She’s got subtle hip dips that give way to wide thighs, granting the prettiest pear-shape.
He can hardly resist the urge to take a bite every time he sees her this way.
“You never ask me for help,” he smirks, scooting towards the bed’s edge to get closer.
“I know, but … I decided to be a little lazy today,” she smiles.
And he loves when she does. The way the corners of her eyes crinkle up, adding a comforting sense of familiarity and warmth to the expression.
He feels lucky that’s it’s the first thing he sees when he wakes up, and the last thing he sees when he goes to sleep. That’s a smile he’d love for his child to see, growing up.
He’s not letting this one go, huh?
Wordlessly, he sets the tub down in his lap and scoops a dollop up with a finger. Spreading it over his palm, he then rubs both hands together. The smooth butter warms quickly in his hands.
He starts at her shoulder blades, dragging his hands down her skin. He’s careful, trying to mimic her tenderness. It comes so natural to her, evident in the way her body languidly moves.
He wonders if she can tell that it isn’t the same for him? The pressure he applies is uneven—unsure. His hands move with the weight of his past, one of a former Marine.
Hands trained to be a weapon, now being used to massage lotion into the tender skin of his love.
They’ve been together for so long. These hands have touched every part of her body, more times than he can even think to count. He knows her body so well, yet still feels as though it’s a privilege that she’s allowed him to be apart of her regimen. Her favorite part of her day.
He takes more crème into his hands; this time his hands run down the spout of her spine, fingers molding to the contours of her body. He makes sure to get her sides, too. Can’t leave those dry.
Then he finally gets to the bottom. His fingers start at the small of her back before they slow spread out. His fingers curl ‘round the bones of her hips, thumbs massaging whatever’s left of the crème into her skin.
His hands do one last pass down her back, then he has to pull them away.
Standing between his legs, she slowly spins, now presenting her front to him. He swallows.
First, his eyes fall between her legs to fat lips thinly veiled by a trimmed bed of dark curls. Then, they slowly lift to the basin of her stomach, up her torso, through the valley of her breasts, and finally, to her round face.
A grateful smile is on her full lips, the apples of her cheeks lifted, too.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.”
She smiles at him, still, yet in her eyes there’s contemplation. Her thoughts are rolling over in her head, he can tell. And that’s why he doesn’t pull away—only stays in place, waiting on her next few words.
“You can help me some more, if you want.”
This time, he’s the one smiling, though it’s nowhere near as innocent as hers. Without any objection, he dips a finger back in the tub of lotion and rubs some between his hands.
“Turn around,” he mumbles, matching her quiet volume.
Each careful step she takes in turning her back to him makes her ass jiggle. And when it’s presented to him once again, he wastes no time making the wide surface shine.
Like a sculptor whose hands mold and shape the clay before them, he kneads the fat with a renewed sense of expertise. He makes sure to cover the fronts of her hips to the flanks of her ass.
And when he gets those parts, his hands encase her hips and lays two, quick taps to the side of her left cheek. He lets himself smirk, watching the fat ripple.
“Turn around.”
She does it wordlessly, carefully raising her forearms to avoid hitting his head. When they face each other again, he pulls her in close by her waist. Letting temptation win, he presses a smooch right above her belly button.
“Terry,” she giggles.
Wordlessly, he smirks, more so to himself as he sets the tub of lotion to the side.
He gathers more crème onto his hands before they snake behind her, diving for the underside of her bottom. He’s taking his job serious, making sure to moisturize every crevice of skin hidden by a fold—he even lifts it if he has to.
So concentrated on the task, the gentle weight of hands on his shoulders slips by his notice. But, he does realize they’re there when her fingers press into his skin—just as he’s pulls her cheeks apart.
His head cranes up, finding those chocolate brown eyes lower than usual. Much less focused, too.
This time, when he does it again, he doesn’t look away. His fingers reach just a little further, the tips of them barely grazing between her cheeks. His grip gets a little tighter, too, and his hands pull them just a little bit further apart.
For a moment, he holds her open. As the warm air of the room hits her newly exposed parts, her hole clenches. Her pussy even flutters. The reactions her body makes are thoughtless.
And so is the movement of his hand when he swipes a middle finger up her crack, stopping it just over her puckered hole.
He taps it once. Twice.
The little thing winks beneath the pad of his finger. His gaze falls to the globes of fat he holds in his big hands.
“When’s the last time we played back here?”
Shyness bleeds onto her face. She tries to hide it with a lifted shoulder, though the corners of her spreading lips can’t be concealed.
“A while,” she mumbles.
The sweet sound of a hum made in agreement resounds. Circles of hazel flick upwards to meet her gaze again.
“Yeah … s’been a while, huh? You cleaned good?”
Her heart stammers behind her rib cage. It leaves her almost breathless.
“Terry,” she warns.
His finger had never moved from that spot. It circles the taught skin. “What? You busy today?”
Her eyes flutter. One of her hands on his shoulders drops to his bicep, giving it a weak squeeze. “Y-yes.”
“Yes to both? And with what?”
As her mouth opens, her words get caught in her throat. That finger applies a soft pressure that sends her pussy into a frenzy.
“Yes, and g-groceries, Terry.” She had almost whined out.
“Aldis not going nowhere.” He smirks up at her.
She shivers, feeling that finger angling to press its tip right at her hole. “The—I don’t want t-to be there when it’s c-crowded.”
He half-shrugs with a clueless frown. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
She doesn’t say anything to that, which only makes him more determined. It seems he hasn’t fully convinced her to abandon her responsibilities, something he’s been too comfortable doing himself since he met her.
“Remember how wet you got last time?” He leans in closer, face just centimeters away from her pussy as he lowers his voice for her to only hear. “I didn’t even touch her.”
The corners of his mouth raise even higher as he looks into her eyes, seeing them glaze over in real-time as her brain replays the distant memory.
“All I did, was play with—“ His finger double-taps at her un-stretched hole again. “You made such a mess. You think you could do that again?”
She dismisses a whimper as she remembers how she felt like a leaking faucet that night. Beneath her, the sheet was a mess, soaked. Her thighs only trembled as her pussy dribbled, globs of slick rolling down its inner-sides.
Her breath hitches, feeling the rough pad of that finger slide back and forth over her. It’s like a splash of cold water, bringing her back to focus.
The gentle musk of her arousal hits his nose. It mixes deliciously with the scent of her crème.
“I’ll get the groceries this week.”
Her eyes almost cross as that finger presses harder against her hole.
“Just lemme do this.”
‘Yes’ and ‘no’ become a blur in her mind. She doesn’t even hear herself when she mumbles the one beginning with ‘y.’
She didn’t think twice about it when he told her to get on the bed, face down and ass to the sky. The position’s got her open and needy. While the water runs distantly in the background, her brain is fuzzy.
All it can do is conjure up thoughts of how far he’ll go this time. There’s only been one time she took his dick through the back, all other times it was his hand.
She hopes they can turn that one time into two. The thought almost makes her drool into the pillow.
She doesn’t hear when the bathroom faucet squeaks as it’s closed. Or when Terry emerges from the bathroom, muttering about having to fix that later.
Just feet away from the bed, he admires the picture before him: a gift, all spread out and open for him.
“Now, ain’t you a sight?”
His voice brings her from her reverie. The only response she gives is to reach behind and pull those shiny, smooth cheeks apart to show him how her body yearns for his touch.
Both holes clench. Beads of slick glisten through the hair closest to the opening of her cunt.
He takes slow steps towards her. “Look at the mess I created.” He chuckles to himself, barely shaking his head. “Guess I gotta clean it up, huh?”
Dumbly, her face pressed to the sheets, she nods.
When he’s finally behind her, his hands take their treasured spots over her hips—left thumb covering his name, as always.
“How should I clean it up, baby?”
Her eyes falls closed as she tries to focus on speaking her thoughts.
“Hm?”
“U-use your tongue, first.”
His face brightens with a toothy smile. “First? Oh, there’s more,” he laughs.
He can’t tell if it’s a hum or a moan she makes, maybe it’s both. But he does understand when she nods.
“Well how you want me to finish the job, when I’m done using my tongue?”
She can hear the amusement in his voice, the smirk on his lips. Quite frankly, she’s too horny to be timid about it.
“Your dick—“
He almost blanches at her boldness. But his shock gives way to a new wave of arousal.
“Want it, Terry,” she speaks breathlessly. “Wanna feel—“ she reaches back again to spread herself again. “—feel full.”
His fingers sink further into the fat of her hips as he gathers all the moisture he can in his mouth. There’s a quick shift of his jaw, then a bullet of spit shoots past his puckered lips and hits his target dead-center.
Her body twitches from the impact. “Oh…” she moans softly.
The translucent, bubbly glob of spit rolls over the tight ring, making it shine. It dribbles down further, slipping down the slide of her crack and finding its way into her shallow bed of curls.
He catches her pussy do a little flutter. The tiny reaction prompts him to lift a hand from a hip, only to slam it back down against her right cheek.
Her back bows inward, a quiet mewl coming from her.
“Yeaah, keep it just like that… Just like … that.”
She hadn’t even heard the shift of his body—only felt his soft, warm, velvety tongue lave against her hole.
A gasp—she almost inches forward before remembering not to run from such pleasure. Terry’s never liked that.
“Mmh…”
There’s a tenderness that spreads throughout her cunt as his hum provides a soft vibration for her. Every time her body bears down, there’s an ache in her core.
He laps against her one more time before pulling the taut skin into his mouth to suck on. There’s hardly any give, but he doesn’t stop. His hands keep her spread apart as he continues burying his face in her ass.
Terry’s never been a man too scared to get messy, especially when it counts. And when it comes to his woman, trust that it counts.
Slobbing her down, his own spit coats the lower half of his face as he tongues her hole down without coming up for air. The wide, wet muscle is putting in overtime to work her open.
Her moans goad him on, even if they are muffled by the sheets.
“Mh … mmh,” he groans, eyes closed as he devours her like a meal.
One hand lifts, immediately falling back down against the plump skin of her asscheek. The spank is sharp, it echoes in her ears.
“Shit,” she hisses, face screwing up as his tongue breaks past her rim.
He pulls back, if only to admire his work so far. In between her cheeks glisten. And, what’s more, is that she’s dripping onto the bed.
Just like last time.
“You like that?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yess, baby, yes.”
Wordlessly, he dives back in. The same hand he used to smack her earlier, leaves its spot once again.
She anticipates another slap, catches herself almost begging for it, actually. However, she gets a better surprise:
His hand, warm and soft, slides over her pussy with ease to cup it from underneath. She flinches when his fingers barely rub over her swollen clit.
That doesn’t last too long; Terry’s hand retreats, fingers poised just at the opening of her drooling cunt.
With too much ease, both middle and ring fingers slip in.
She whimpers.
They sink right in with wet suction, her pussy spurting around them. His heavy fingers settle comfortably in a familiar spot within her tight and slippery heat as her body seems to instantly mold around them.
Every time Terry’s in it, he almost swears she’s truly an endless portal into ecstasy.
And while his mind finds itself caught on the wonders of her pussy, his mouth still wrecks her even tighter hole; His tongue digs into her, his fingers are pressing into her G-spot—it all stuns her. She can hardly breathe, feeling him push and prod.
One particularly loud slurp of his makes her eyes roll back. Her pussy flutters, feeling a glob of his spit roll down her crack.
“Wanna fuck you. Fuck you with my tongue—“
She moans in agreement. The guttural sound transcends past the thick sheets.
“Hold it open.”
Although his voice is low, she still hears every word Terry mutters.
With an abundance of eagerness that her body can barely contain, she reaches back to hold herself open for him.
As Terry remains knuckles deep within her, aiding in the escape of her sticky sap from her cunt, he pushes his tongue back into her ass.
She sloshes as he fucks his fingers up into her. Milky white and almost frothy cream runs down the palm of his hand to his wrist.
He doesn’t move his head, too desperate for her body to pull away. Instead, he tires himself with fucking into her by dragging his tongue in and out, his pace quickening. The ache of his jaw and the burn of the overworked muscle does nothing to dissuade him.
One must work for their pleasure, he knows that.
“Oh … ohh … ah—aauhh!”
Her whines work alongside the tightening of her body. He doesn’t stop—doesn’t let up or slow down.
In fact, he receives her orgasm with an open palm, letting her pussy spill into it. Her squirt splashes against his forearm and the bed. And still, his hand never stops.
“Y’know … I was thinking about how much … how much I wanna make you a mom.”
His words come out airy and light, but that doesn’t diminish their effect. Her body responds, clamping tighter around his fingers.
A deep chuckle rises out of him. “You like that?”
Her only response is an incoherent moan as she pushes her hips back on his hand.
“Want me to make you a mommy?”
“Yes,” her voice waivers.
When he pulls his hand out of her, it’s like a great loss. Suddenly, her world is empty without him. She wants to cry.
“Yeah, me too.”
When Terry finally pulls his dick out, he’s got more than enough of her cum on-hand to lube himself up. The creamy mess of her cunt is more than enough material to get him rock hard—not that he wasn’t already.
Taking himself in hand, he slowly lifts his heavy cock and drops it right between her ass cheeks.
About two inches wide starting at the tip, his dick only gets slightly wider towards the base. Its underside has got that one vein running along it. She always licks at it when presented with such an opportunity.
A heated tint of flushed pink blossoms over the bulbous tip, dying down to a darker shade of brown along his shaft. It curves just to the left, the perfect angle that always seemed to knock against her walls perfectly.
Pulling his hips backward, he watches his dick drag against her supple skin, falling closer towards her center. When it’s just his tip left touching her, he takes ahold of himself at the base and slowly pushes forward.
He slips against her underside, burrowing into her thin bed of curls. The head knocks against her clit, triggering a stronger quake in her thighs.
Terry puckers his lips to spit another thick loogey, watching it land on her puckered rim. It winks back at him.
She can’t tell what goes in first, his thumb or his dick. All she knows is that he’s about nine inches deep in her cunt, and that there’s a thumb sinking into her ass.
There’s a delay before a long-winded, singular moan falls out of her mouth. All of her breath is caught in her chest. Her body is tense.
“Breath, baby. Breathe,” he reminds her.
Her brain buzzes. His words really only get through to her once his hand washes over her back like a cool rag.
That’s all it takes for her body to relax—somewhat at least. Her shoulders relax and her back even sinks inward.
A softer, much shorter moan leaves her, and the arching of her back accentuates the ache caused by his dick pressing against her walls. If either of them would look, they’ll see the outline of him, poking through her lower tummy in a small bulge.
Her pussy, stretched to its capacity, flutters around him, almost like it’s trying to swallow more than it can handle.
“S-so heavy,” she mumbles, gripping the sheets.
“But you like it,” he smiles. “I could tell, hm?”
Terry pushes in the last inch, taking too much joy in the broken whimper that leaves her. She’s suffocating, squeezing him and bathing him in wetness all the same. In this deep, he feels a soft, spongy wall pressing against his tip.
“What’s that?” He shifts inside, nudging at that wall.
It’s a good thing she doesn’t look back, face too screwed up to see the horrific smile on his face.
“Huh?”
She almost wails out. Her hands twitch, itching to reach for her stomach. To cradle it as the deep ache within her reaches new heights.
“C’mon, talk to me.”
The rest of his fingers splay out over the small of her back as he pushes his thumb deeper into her ass. The thin stretch of muscle separating the two pleasure zones allows him to feel the curvature of himself, sitting deep in her walls.
“I’m in your stomach?”
Teeth gritted, she nods her head as fast as she can.
“You so quiet already.” Gentle and slow, he pulls out some inches, granting her relief. “I don’t like that.”
He slides his hips back in, pushing his dick right up against her cervix.
“GOD—“
“Yeah, like that.” He pulls out again, only to give her yet another deep stroke. “Keep doing that. Keep talking to me—”
“H-ooh—T-Terry!”
“Yes, baby,” he groans out over the sound of his hips meeting her ass. “Tell me, tell me how good it feels.”
“Ffuuuck!”
She writhes beneath him, shouting out ragged moans as he’s digging her out.
Every time he pulls out, his dick is wetter and wetter. It goes from shining with her juices to caked in her crème in just a few strokes.
Around her stretched hole is a mess, covered in her frothy release. It all builds up to the point that some of it sludges down between her legs and falls to the bed.
“Oh … shii—aaugh!”
Her resolve breaks, finally allowing her to press a hand to her stomach. Under her palm, she feels the repeating wave of his dick punching her guts beneath the wall of muscle.
She hisses, feeling his thumb fuck her ass as he pulls her back against his. With every plop of their body’s meeting, her cream splatters against his pelvis. Tiny beads of white fly, landing against his sweat-sheathed skin.
“Gonna need another shower after this, huh?”
Even as Terry tries to remain cocky, his upper lip twitches as his body starts to react to this pleasure.
“Making a mess.” His stomach clenches. “Th-thought I was s’posed to be cleaning up.”
He chokes out a bit of laughter, trying to conceal a moan of his own. His words start to blend as the pleasure overtakes him:
“You … creamin’ all over … mmh—“
His eyes threaten to roll back. But just as fast, Terry seems to regain a bit of composure. Enough to lock back in.
Rolling his lips into his mouth, his focus straightens and he gives repeated strokes. They’re dead-on, sharp, and heavy.
She screams out a profanity—he can’t even tell which one because she’s so out of it. But, her body is granted a moment of relief as he stops.
Carefully, he pulls his thumb out of her butt. It shines with her slick. When he looks at her barely stretched hole, clenching around nothing, it’s covered in her cream.
The sight has him twitching inside of her, causing her body to give him a couple of extra squeezes in response.
“You look so good like this,” he mumbles. As his body starts to weaken, he sways a little. “M’sorry I had to mess you up like this, baby.”
Her only response is a mewl as she tries to fix herself.
Taking the hand he had used previously, he holds himself at the base to pull out of her. And when he’s finally out, it’s like there’s a dick-shaped hole in her stomach. She swears he left an impression inside of her.
Her pussy feels so tender and swollen, clit overly sensitive. And yet, the pain of it all is too good. She misses it. She misses him.
And he can tell, seeing her hole flutter around nothing, stretched out. But she doesn’t have to worry for too long, because he’ll fix that.
Peering down at himself, Terry is marveled at all of the mess between them. His dick, still hard, is a creamy, sticky mess—practically dripping in her release.
At the base is where there’s the most build-up. Loopy off of all the testosterone running through him, he gets an idea that has him swiping up some of the mess with his middle and ring finger.
With no hesitation, Terry presses the two fingers to her ass. They slide in with ease, even causing a very loud squish.
“Ooouuhh,” she groans.
Turning her head to the side, Terry’s finally able to see how pleasure contorts her face. Eyes low and unfocused, heavy bottom lip pulled between both rows of teeth, as she begins to slowly rock back and forth. So desperate, she fucks herself on his fingers.
“Just like that … take it, baby. Take it—”
“Oouuh shit, Terry.”
“C’mon.”
“Ooh, fuck—“
Pfffffft.
The sharp sound of air expelling from her cunt as Terry pushes back in, punctuates her sentence. Her mouth drops open, her neck craning against the sheets.
He’s speechless, too. Seeing the way her pussy blows a raspberry around his thick dick, spitting out dribblets of cream against his lower stomach. Some even dribbles out of her.
“Hnnnh,” she whines, pathetically.
Curling his fingers inside of her, he plays with her ass. Throughout this all, his other hand had never left her left hip, thumb still covering his name.
He pulls out halfway, only to push his dick back in.
“Fuck, I love it when she talks to me,” he laughs, breathlessly, throwing his head back. It’s music to his ears, hearing her pussy squirt and fart around him.
So lost in the sound, he doesn’t even notice the way her shoulders twitch as her orgasm crashes into her. It’s not until he feels water hit his pelvis that he looks down.
Around his dick, she squirts. It’s a heavy enough stream. He watches it trickles down both of their thighs, completely drenching the already soaked through sheets.
Without a word, he pulls his fingers out before placing the other hand on her hip. His grip tightens around her.
Leaning more of his weight forward, Terry pushes her arch deeper. “Really gonna … make you a mommy like this—“
She gets no prep as he fucks the arch out of her back and puts her into the mattress. The clap of her ass against his pelvis is almost deafening.
Her hips are barely off of the bed. Behind them, her legs raise, toes curling tightly as she wails out.
He buries his face into her neck, groaning. His ears ring as he shoots off a heavy load in her.
For minutes, they stay connected as Terry tries to regain his breath. His orgasm lasts much longer than he thought it would, filling her to the brim.
When he finally pulls out, mustering enough strength to stand, he watches tiredly as her body pushes out thick globs of their mixed release.
Her pussy is slathered in their mess, certain spots caked up in a frothy white.
He grabs a cheek, pulling it apart from its twin so that he can see it all much clearer.
“You look so good like this,” he mumbles. “Love when you let me use you.”
Mindlessly, he lets a hand fall to his dick. It’s tender, but his hold on himself is light. Still holding her open with the other hand, he gently strokes himself. His hand practically glides over himself, what with all the cum coating his dick.
The sensation, the mess, her—it doesn’t take too much for him to get a semi.
“Fuck, you always make me so horny.”
He gets a knee on the bed, positioning himself directly behind her again.
Sensing his growing closeness, she weakly picks her head up and looks back at him. She’s a vision of wild curls, watery eyes, and bitten-raw lips.
As he gets closer, stroking his hardening dick, he brushes his fat, swelling tip again her lips. Rubbing himself against her, he gathers more of cum, coating himself.
“Terry,” she whines, a soft pout on her lips.
“You too tired?”
He pulls her asscheek further, fully exposing her second hole.
Her plump lips part to speak, but nothing comes out.
“You want me to stop? You could tell me, baby,” he cooes.
Still, he begins rubbing his tip against the much smaller hole. She can feel it throb against her.
“Tell me. Y’know I’ll still get the groceries for you.”
He gives her time to object, to say ‘no,’ while he’s positioning himself at her opening. However, she only watches, her face scrunching even more as he slowly applies pressure.
“I’ll get you whatever you want. Especially when you have our son.”
With little effort, he pops the head in past her rim. A tired smile lifts his lips as she moans out lowly. Her head turns back forward as it falls to the bed.
Weak to the way he uses her body, she simply lies there, taking his dick through the back as he sings his delusions to her (because who said she was going to have a boy).
Even tired, her body tenses with the pressure of his dick sliding in her. He’s not as rough as when he was in her pussy.
This time, his strokes are gentle and shallow. It’s a moderate pace he maintains as he holds her open to see the way he stretches her out.
And it just does something to him; seeing her spent pussy just below, covered in their cum and still leaking while he uses her asshole just the same.
Because, she’s his woman, and he’s going to have every part of her body. Just in the same way that he’s her man, and if she wants him at any time she can have him.
His second orgasm doesn’t take long to come. When he feels it approaching, he carefully pulls out. Taking himself in hand, he gives a few short strokes before painting her ass.
Streaks of white splatter against the warm brown canvas, making her ass look like toasted buns covered in vanilla drizzle.
And if he had the energy to, he’d eat her ass again. But this was already a lot, and he can’t lie, he’s exhausted.
Terry can only hope that she won’t be mad that he waited a little longer to get the groceries.
Summary: A quick little story about a wife sitting in her husband's lap and what it eventually leads to. Fluff mixed in with grown up activities. 18+, explicit language/content.
A/N: I wrote this with Jalen Shaw in mind since I'm currently obsessed with his character on L&O but feel free to insert whoever you want. This could easily be my second husband Terry Richmond and will be depending on the mood I'm in 😭
My first attempt at writing through my issues. More random thoughts to come. *Ignore any errors. 10 edits later and I'm over it. You know what I meant lmao*
Do not repost this outside of tumblr
Your favorite place to be is in your husband’s lap. His face being a close second. Both have your name written all over them. His lap is the place you yearn for in quiet moments when the distance between you feels vast and everlasting. A throne earned through love and reinforced by an eternal promise. The one thing guaranteed to return your sanity after escaping from a world you were forced to participate in.
Nightly rituals run their course with practiced discipline. First is dinner prepared by your hands alone since he’s failed to convince you to spoil him in other ways. Then a shower to help loosen the stress off your bones. He’s waiting for you in the dimly lit family room dressed in dark gray sweatpants and nothing else. A playlist of your favorite songs old and new softly fill the silence. The loveseat built for two appears smaller with his massive frame occupying the space, sturdy legs spread wide, arms casually resting at the sides until he’s able to pull you the remaining distance.
You curl up between the chiseled arms caging you in, feet tucked underneath your exhausted body, face to his chest, fingertips playing along his jawline. Close but not close enough. He supports your legs with one hand, the other cradles your ass over the t-shirt you’ve stolen from his closet.
There’s something comforting about being in a fetal position, like you finally have permission to forget everything that’s kept a smile off your face. You get to exist solely as a priceless treasure to be cherished and kept safe.
The prominent outline of hard muscle pressed along your backside reminds you this isn’t just a spiritual escape, but a physical one briefly put on hold until he’s taken care of your mind first. A command whispered against your temple, followed by a kiss is all it takes to stop your hips from moving. You surrender as if it were your idea and track his heartbeat with your eyes closed and a lazy smile hanging from your lips.
He's idly freestyling shapes along your thighs when he starts discussing work. It’s always simple and lighthearted banter. The kind of harmless language designed to soften your heart and pull your mind away from disparities that can’t be changed overnight. He boasts about the silly conflicts he managed to resolve and the creative ways he becomes a ghost during his lunch break to avoid unwanted conversations with people who don’t understand social cues. Then he starts firing off “nerd facts” related to his hobbies, comics he intends to buy, games he’s been meaning to play. His face lights up when you express interest in playing one together. Now he’s added ordering pizza and gaming to your growing list of weekend plans.
His excitement is contagious. Every word a caress reaching your soul. You vow to never move again, to remain tucked underneath his chin laughing until your sides hurt and your eyes water. He grants you the perception of forever with kisses along your neck to your collarbone.
Being in his lap is the precursor for what comes next. A place to rest your head and unload burdens while he finalizes the details on a fantasy he’s mulled over all day long. He decides when to move you and how, executing his vision with your pleasure at the forefront but always at his instruction. You whine and resist but ultimately comply without having to be told twice. Experience has taught you good girls get their needs met a lot sooner than brats choosing disobedience.
Yesterday he took you in the hallway, shapely brown legs spread wide like butterfly wings pinned to a display board. The day before that you’d come home exhausted and barely functioning. He laid you across the dining room table and had you for dinner and dessert. Tonight, he’s got you sprawled across your king-sized bed with both feet planted on his chest as he fucks the regret out of your body.
The sheets absorb what’s left, all the frustration, all the desire to be in control. You stare up at him through wet lashes desperately grabbing at his thighs for leverage he refuses to give. He orders you to let go. You hesitate for half a second too long. He won’t tell you again. You believe him when he withdraws from your body and pushes down on the back of your thighs to keep your hips from closing the distance. The added depth motivates you to find somewhere safe to put your hands. One tugs at a nipple. The other grips your neck. With your eyes closed it’s easier to imagine his thick fingers enforcing his claim, amplifying the pleasure of being stretched full. You begin to squirm with no place to go. Despite him giving you everything, you plead for more in the breathy high pitch he loves.
He stops mid thrust and grunts what sounds like your name. You feel its weight pass through him and settle as a deep rumble within your chest. His gorgeous eyes lock on to you, dark and blown out like you’ve descended from the sky and performed a miracle right in front of him.
You want to tease him with the obvious question. Instead, you set your doe like eyes on his face looking as innocent as one could be with their pussy split open creaming around a dick that’s apparently forgotten on how to move. One desperate act of supplication has turned your husband into a statue. This isn’t your fault. It’s his. He taught you how to obey, how to mimic his technique until it became instinctual. Now the master can’t tell the difference. It may as well be his hand wrapped around your throat. Knowing you’ve made him proud does boost your ego, but you also prefer the original.
A little teasing won’t hurt. You hide behind half shut eyes, fingers tucked beneath your jawline pretending not to see the way his stomach tightens when your walls clamp down and refuse to let him go.
He pulls against the suction and suddenly your little performance concludes with a sharp breath inward. It isn’t quite the friction you crave but it does confirm at least some of the blood pooling in his dick has returned to his brain. There’s a primal undertone to his intense gaze now, a warning that manifests in his hips before anticipation can set in.
Calculated and relentless, too much and yet the very thing you need more than the air he’s forcing out of your lungs. Unlike your dear husband you’ve learned how to be overwhelmed and still function. You were made for this, shaped by his hands and dick to be helpless and yielding but also useful even when he’s got you folded up like a pretzel.
You worship him with the few words not jostled loose from your brain. The name he was born with and the one he requires. Daddy. You alter the pitch and volume to let him know he’s found the right spot. When he stays there, you chant Yes like a choir hymn until your voice goes hoarse and the wet echo of your body pounded through the mattress drowns out the ringing in your ears. Once he’s driven you to the edge without climax one too many times you whimper a single word and trust him to decipher its meaning. Please.
The first orgasm is solely because you asked so nicely. The rest are because he’s addicted to the way you fall apart for him, the sight of you writhing like you’re possessed by a spirit, legs trembling, nails marking him up to endure but never to escape. He told you it was the closest he’d get to seeing heaven on earth. You can see the adoration in his eyes, feel the reverence in each hungry kiss pressed to the ankles flailing on his shoulder.
One more.
Always one more. You lose track of the promises he makes but remain conscious as he finally joins you for what should be the last, spilling warmth into your overstimulated body until there’s nothing left but a steady pulse beating from within and his face buried on your chest. Together you lay in silence, limbs wrapped around each other, every breath heavy and synchronized in their unevenness.
Eventually, it ends the way it began with you perched on his lap still dazed, still trembling. He holds you like you’re made of delicate glass, whispering praise as he kisses along your damp hairline. You won’t remember the bath you’ll take together or the careful way he’ll massage your overworked muscles with ointments. Nuzzling your face in the hand caressing your cheek, you smile and thank him in advance for each act of love. A kiss for each finger.
Before you drift away completely you project your thoughts to the future where he’ll greet you with open arms and passionate kisses, sweeping you off your feet like one of those sappy hallmark movies you hate to love.
You can’t wait to do this all over again tomorrow.
Y’all …. I just got done watching the Michael movie and let me tell you!!!! Jesus Lordt. Jaafar left it all on the flo hunny 😭 I left that theatre with my heart palpitating and my legs and hands shaking…
Jaafar is 1 of 1
Michael is 1 of 1
***** ***** is 1 of none 🤭
Some fanfic is on the way babiessssssss… Love y’all 🥰💋
