alii 𐙚

“Deeean-“ You whine out, and he chuckles, squeezing your ass tight.

“That’s right, baby. Call my name, tell the whole house who’s got you in their lap-“

A door slams downstairs, and you shove Dean away just as fast as he rips himself back.

You’re both panting and flushed. You can see his arousal through his jeans, and your fingers are shaking too much to get a proper grip on your unbuttoned blouse.

Your father calls your name, the stairs creaking, and you shove Dean again.

He gives you an incredulous look, mouthing what are you doing?

Closet. You mouth back, pushing him again. The man is built like a fucking tree, it’s like trying to move boulder underwater. Get- “Get in the fucking closet-“

He moves, right before the door opens.

Your father smiles at you, glancing around the room. “You doin’ alright, kiddo?”

“Yep. How was work?” You bounce on your toes, shooting tiny looks to the closet.

He has no reason to check anything. It all looks perfectly innocent. There’s no clothing scattered across the floor or stench of sex in the air. Dean hadn’t even taken his shoes off, and the sweater that he’d ripped from your body is allowed to be on the bed, because it’s your room.

And it’s not like you’ve been known to do this kind of thing.

Sleep with older men.

Sleep with anyone.

You’re pretty sure if your father had to gamble on it, he’d put down money that you were going to die alone. Which isn’t entirely unfair. You speak to men like they’re dogs—because they are—and the last time someone asked you on a date, you spent the whole time staring them with an unimpressed expression and your arms over your chest.

It’s not that you’re rude. You just refuse to lower yourself just to please someone who can’t even do their laundry without Mommy’s help. And most college boys don’t even know their food groups. There’s protein, and green stuff, and candy. That’s it. It makes you want to bash your head into a wall.

But that’s how Dean got you.

Stupid, handsome Dean and his big hands and don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take care of it. Dean and the way he picked you up like you weighed ten pounds not to show of how much he can bench, but because you’d been standing in his way teasing him, and he’d needed to move you.

He’d placed you onto the counter of the kitchen with such care, and a stern, amused look. You’d gaped at him, heat flooding your cheek and all the blood in your body confused about if it should be curling in your fists and swinging, or pooling between your legs to help you hump him like an animal in heat.

“Not so mouthy now, are you.” Dean had drawled, and that’s when you’d known.

You were a goner. He had you in the palm of his calloused hands.

It worked, because you had him wrapped around your finger.

But neither of you were supposed to be close enough to even touch.

Dean’s your father’s best friend. They met in some old man club for people who like saws and drills or whatever. Maybe it was just a workshop. Or he fixed your dad’s car, and the dumbass fell just in love with him as you were.

Dean’s great. Dean and I got coffee. Dean showed me this new Thunderbird, think I’m gonna buy it. You can drive it, when you get home, maybe we’ll put the deed in your name. I’ll ask Dean if he thinks that’s a good idea. Dean thinks it’s a great idea.

Most of your Senior year had been spent getting calls and texts from your dad about how perfect and amazing Dean was. If he knew that the man was in your closet fighting a boner right now, he might end up more jealous than angry.

It still doesn’t feel like an experiment you want the results of. Some things are better left to the imagination.

“Work was good.” Your father shrugs. “You eaten dinner?”

“Um- No.” You need to stop looking at the closet. It’s suspicious. “I was actually going to go out, and- Eat there.”

“Do that tomorrow.” He waves a hand. “Dean’s coming over tonight, we’re gonna fire up my new grill, see how she cooks.”

“I know, I just- I wanted like Chinese or something.”

“Then get Chinese and eat with us-“ Your father pauses, and you swallow. “How’d you know Dean was comin’ over?”

Shit. You can almost feel him glaring at you through the closet. You’re supposed to be the smart one, sweetheart.

It’s his fault. You can still feel where he’d been teasing your sides, and it’s making your brain all stupid and fuzzy.

You know because Dean showed up early and cornered you in the living room. Because you’d done the stupid dance where you both pretend you’re not going to cave. You’d asked why he was here. He said he didn’t need a reason. You said he did, it wasn’t his house. He’d teased that he was always welcome. You’d rolled your eyes, and asked if he was sure about that. He’d leaned over you and murmured that you sure as shit seemed happy to see him. You’d just glared, because if you spoke you would’ve started to drool. He’d muttered that, for the record, he’d been invited for the drill. But that he was really here because he needed to see you.

Then he’d shoved his hand under your shirt and kissed you stupid.

You can’t tell your dad that part.

“You told me.” You say lamely.

You can almost hear Dean’s groan.

“Oh. Huh.” Your dad shrugs it off. Why wouldn’t he. “Alright. You gonna stay?”

It’s a horrible idea. If you stay, you’re going to spend the whole time grumpy because you’d been so close, and now Dean was feet away and unable to touch you.

“Sure.”

Fuck.

Your dad takes the victory. In his eyes, you’re sure he thinks it’s a miracle that his daughter wants to hang out with him and his friends instead of going out and doing young people things. You think he forgets, sometimes, that you’ve never been all that good at young people things.

And you’re certainly not going to burst his bubble by reminding him of that. Or the fact that of course you want to hang out with his friend. Sex on Legs Winchester. Even if you didn’t have something halfway started with him, you’d stick around just to ogle the eye candy.

“Am I just a sack of meat to you, princess?” Dean mutters when you tell him as much.

You bite back your smile, and shrug. “Maybe. You gonna do something about it?”

He fixes you with an almost awestruck stare, before chuckling and shaking his head.

“You’re trying to get me killed.”

“No, I’m not-“

“Yeah, you are. I pop a boner now, your old man is gonna rip my head off.”

“So don’t pop a boner, dumbass-“

Your words fall off in a tiny squeak, as Dean grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into a deep, long kiss.

It’s far from the first time you kissed. That had been a night only a week after you’d moved back home—a long, torturous week of staring at massive biceps and imagine them wrapped around your neck, or beating yourself up in the sheets as you got off to the idea of Dean and his stupid, cocky smirk—when he’d been staying over so his house could get gassed for bugs or something. You’d smiled at him too sweetly. All his touches had lingered too long. You’d gone downstairs to get some water, and ended up on top of him on the couch.

You still haven’t slept together. Every time you get close, fucking something has to happen, and you stop.

But you’ve kissed so much you think your lips are molded to shape his.

You immediately turn to slack putty, in Dean’s arms. Kissing him back with frantic passion, leaning over his chest and moaning openly into his mouth. Your fingers find their way to his belt, then lower. Dean tips your head back further to deepen this kiss, and you paw at his bugle with a tiny whimper.

He hums, squeezing the back of your neck. “Behave.”

“Don’t want to.” You breathe out, and he chuckles.

“I know.” Dean pulls back, kissing one corner of your mouth, then the other. “You need some motivation, baby?”

You nod, fixing him with your best, doe-eyed stare. It’s the one that always makes him cave, even when he says he knows he shouldn’t.

But you both know you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t be doing any of this. There’s a long list of reason that starts with your father’s best friend and ends with massive age gap that could be followed to prevent all of this. But you both seem to get a little blind, when you look at each other. Suddenly you can’t read and Dean—a man who’s all self-control and smooth, cool collection—stumbles over his feet like a highschooler.

He says that’s how he knew this was worth it. That you do things to him that no one else ever has. You blush and giggle and press your face into the crook of his neck, and for a little while you both forget the whole world. Sometimes you whisper that he does things to you as well. You’ve never wanted to wrap around someone like this and never let go.

And that overrides all logic and reason. It doesn’t matter what kind of rules there are. You want to break all of them, just to be closer to him for a few moments longer.

“You play nice tonight.” Dean whispers in your ear, tracing lazily up and down your spine. “Then I’ll help you sneak out. Back to my place.”

“Your place?” You sound a lot more pathetic than you want to be. You really don’t know how to help it.

“Mhm. And you know what’s at my place that ain’t here?”

You shake your head, and Dean kisses the tip of your nose. It scrunches up, and his eyes shine with adoration. You’re never going to get sick of him looking at you like that. Like you’re the only thing in the world.

“Peace and quiet.” He mutters. “Just you, me, and nothing else.”

Your eyes widen, as you realize what he means. “Oh- Okay.”

“Okay?”

There’s a hint of worry in his voice. Like he needs to be sure you really mean it, even when you’re slack and folded into his arms, digging your nails into his biceps like you’re trying to leave a mark.

You nod frantically, and his shoulders relax.

“Okay.” He mutters, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You smile at him, and his throat bobs. “Behave.”

“I always behave.” You tease, and Dean snorts.

“Yeah. Alright.”

“I do. I’m very well trained.”

He chuckles, kissing you light and soft. You push up on your toes, trying to chase a little more, and Dean lets you. He always lets you.

“Don’t think you’re the one on the leash, sweetheart.” He mutters against your lips, and you giggle.

“Dogs train their owners sometimes. With feeding habits and walk schedules.”

“Hm.” He leans back, a smile twitching on his lips. “Is this feedin’, or walkin’?”

 And this is your favorite expression on his handsome face. The one where you can tell that he’s really trying to be annoyed with you, but can’t stop himself from enjoying your company. From looking at you like he wants to just lock the door and pin you to the bed until you’re giggling and beaming all the time. You’d be all for that plan, if your father wasn’t probably waiting downstairs, wondering why Dean’s running late-

Shit. Right. Your father.

“Actually.” You kiss over his beard, curling your fingers in the collar of his shirt. “I think it’s fetch.”

Dean snorts, and ducks down to kiss you again. You push him lightly back, and he stumbles like he’s been shot.

“Out the window.” You say sternly, pointing at the roof.

Dean groans, running a hand over his face. “C’mon, one more-“

“No.”

“But-“

“Behave.” You mock, and he scowls.

“Son of a bitch.” He grumbles under his breath. He’s making a face like a toddler who just got his favorite toy truck confiscated for bad behavior. It’s rather adorable. “Gonna be the death of me, woman. Can’t believe I’m so in love with a fuckin’ brat.”

“Aw, you love me?”

You say it like it doesn’t still make your heart skip to hear it. Dean sighs like he let slip some grand secret, instead of something that he’s told you countless times in dark corners and in booths of bars.

He looks at the window. He’s back to pouting again.

“It’s gonna hurt my knees.” He whines, and you laugh, closing the space between you once more.

“Tough shit, Winchester. Should’ve tried to keep it in your pants.”

“But you make it so hard-“

“I know.”

That earns you a glare, and you giggle again.

You’re both so very bad at this. Dean should already be downstairs. You shouldn’t be goading him into saying longer, but you can’t help it at all. This is your favorite kind of teasing. The one where you end up folded under him with his pretty lips wrapped around your nipples and thick fingers stuffing up your pussy and toying with your clit until you’re whining his name.

Dean’s looking at you like that’s exactly what he wants to do with you. You’re smiling at him like you’re begging for it, and neither of you ever back down from the challenge.

Then your father calls your name from downstairs. And it’s like a bucket of ice water is poured over both your heads.

“Dean’s runnin’ late!” He shouts. “You should go get your Chinese now!”

You sigh, and Dean grimaces. The urgency doesn’t stop him from grabbing your face between his hands, and kissing you one last time.

“Tonight.” He mumbles like an oath. “Just you and me.”

You hum. “Only if I behave, right?”

“Sure. Only if you behave.”

And he says it like that because you both know perfectly well that it doesn’t matter how you behave. You could sit on his lap or rub your foot on his crotch under the table, and he’s still going to open the door when you sneak over. If anything, the question is just how big a price do you want to pay tonight. How far are you willing to push him, how greatly do you want him to snap once you’re alone.

You think you want him to lose it. He’s always extra pretty when he looks like he’s about to cry from frustration, and he’s never hotter than when there’s that dangerous gleam in his eyes that reminds you he could toss you around like a sack of potatoes.

God, it sounds nice though. Being Dean’s sack of potatoes.

He sneaks out the window, and flips you off after you laugh at him for groaning the whole time. He has to sneak down the block to get his car, and you won’t be here when he arrives. You have to go get your Chinese.

But after that, all bets are off.

Dean is worse at this than you are. The sneaking around.

You get stupid and nervous when your dad is around and Dean is hiding. You told me wasn’t your best moment, but it also wasn’t that far from your worst. And you know your dad. You know that he’s not really going to question most things he tells you, because even your more obvious excuses aren’t that suspicious.

But Dean’s a fucking dumbass.

He’s your dumbass. Your old, grumpy idiot who’s some kind of genius with a wrench and a circuit board and an engine, but who stares at the crossword puzzles you do and mutters that all those letters look fake. He could find his way home if you dropped him in the middle of the woods—you call him your pigeon, and he doesn’t think that’s half as funny as you do—but he also thinks that Michaelangelo is the Ninja Turtle and needs your help writing emails. One time you asked him when he’d last gone to the doctor, and he said some time in ’07. You’d smacked him upside the head and dragged him by the nape of his neck.

Later that week, he’d been grumbling to your dad about how the doc was making him cut back on steak. His cholesterol had been through the roof. He’d protested and bitched, but you’d grabbed his jaw and snapped that if he died, you were going to leave him.

So now he’s down to only two burgers a week, and you’re very proud of him.

Which is what he’d told your dad.

Not the you part—he wasn’t that stupid—but the doctor part. And how he’d been bargained down to two burgers in exchange for other things.

Blowjobs. You might not have fucked yet, but you’d done most everything else, and you’d talked him down from a three burger a week deal with the promise of blowjobs.

Which he’d told your dad.

Because he’s an idiot.

“You’re datin’ someone?” Your dad had said in surprise, and Dean had frozen.

On the couch, you’d rolled your eyes. God, he was so lucky you loved him to death.

“I- I- Uh-“

“Why didn’t you tell me? You coulda brought her over, I wanna meet the lady who finally got you to settle.” Your dad had snorted, his voice dropping so that you probably weren’t supposed to hear it. “Hell, if she gives good enough head for you to drop burgers, I gotta meet her.”

You’d felt sick. When you’d glanced over your shoulder, Dean had looked sick.

His eyes had flitted to yours in panic. You’d given him a tight, prompting look, and his throat had bobbed.

“She, uh- She’s real busy-“

“I got time.”

“Right. Good.” Dean had looked trapped. This was the only time you saw him really stumble over his words. When it came to you.

It would be sweet, if he wasn’t a few wrong words from getting shot in the head.

“She, uh- She’s just- You know- Women-“

“Where’s she work.” Your dad had asked casually.

Dean had gone pallid. “The… Place.”

“Place?”

“Bookshop.”

“Oh.” Your father had called your name, and Dean had looked seconds from passing out. “You know any ladies at the bookshop Dean’s age?”

You’d hummed, pretending to examine your nails. “Um… Maybe Matilda.”

Matilda is the lovely old woman who you share all your shifts with. She has five cats, two grandchildren she loves more than her dolt of a son, and knows that you and Dean are dating because she caught you making out in the nonfiction section a month ago.

Dean had glared at you, and you’d just smiled back. The fuck was I supposed to say? You’d tell him later. There’s only four of us, and two are high schoolers.

He’d gotten out of the bookshop jam by saying that she worked at a different place. Your father had bought the lie, but never dropped it. He never drops any of Dean’s slip ups.

Because every time you’ve almost been caught, it’s been Dean’s fault. There was the time your bra got found in the Impala, and when Dean’s brother knew about you before you were formally introduced, and when you’d been on a date and your dad had walked into the bar. You’d shoved Dean under the table, and the fucking dumbass had decided to kiss your thighs the whole time he was down there. You’d kill him if you didn’t love him. But you also think he’d kill himself if he ever really pissed you off.

But now your dad thinks Dean’s sneaking around with some lady from out of town, and you go to bars by yourself when you said you were going out with friends. And he’s a nice, nosy man, so he hasn’t let go of either fact at all.

“How’s your girl, Winchester?” He asks Dean over dinner, and Dean grunts.

“Good. Pissin’ me off, but good.”

You stick your tongue out at him behind your dad’s back. He’s just grumpy about the couch thing.

Your dad had gone to check on the grill, and you’d put your feet in Dean’s lap. He’d grabbed your ankles and hissed for you to behave. You’d smiled at him and moved them, before immediately crawling over him. You’d had a hand resting right against his crotch, and another grabbing at his chest. You’d kissed his cheeks and neck while he just grabbed your waist for balance.

“’M so wet, De.” You’d whispered, sucking a kiss right under his jaw. “Need you so bad.”

He’d made a strangled, almost pained sound. His cock had twitched under your hand, and you’d pressed down harder.

Dean’s fingers had flexed on your waist. You’d dropped your weight onto his thigh, grinding down and moaning against his skin.

You think, if your dad hadn’t come back the next second, he would’ve flipped you over and ripped off your skirt. But you’d heard the door open, and pulled easily away. Dean hadn’t been able to stand up for five minutes. You’d giggled and run your fingers through this hair, before following your dad out on to the porch.

So he’s a little mad at you.

You hope he stays mad at you. He always kisses you like an animal, when he’s a little pissed. Then he presses your face between your breasts and mumbles about how it’s not fair that he can’t stay mad at you, and it’s a better feeling than any high in the world.

Your goal for the night might be driving him so up the wall that when he finally fucks you, he rearranges your guts in his name.

It’s not going to be that difficult to do.

“What’d she do to piss you off?” Your dad asks, and Dean makes a face.

“Nothin’. Just- She gets mouthy.” He’s still glaring at you. You pretend not to see it. “And she likes to push my fuckin’ buttons.”

“You’re fun to rile up, buddy.” Your dad shrugs, totally oblivious to you and Dean eye fucking across the room. “Just take a deep breath and tell her she’s making you mad.”

Dean snorts. “Trust me. I think she knows.”

You beam at him and flutter your lashes. His eyes narrow, his grip on the counter going white knuckled.

He is fun to rile up. You hope he never works on that.

“You know who I saw at the store today?” You dad asks you, and you hum, poking at your chow mein.

“Who?”

“Gordon.”

“Oh, shit.” You look up. “How’s he doing?”

“Alright. Think he’s livin’ at home too. Surprised you didn’t know.”

“Well, we don’t talk that much anymore-“

“He asked about you.” Your dad shrugs casually. Too casually.

You know where this is going.

“Gave me his new number, to pass onto you. Said he missed you, all four years-“

“Dad.” You sigh, giving him a flat look.

He raises his hands. “I’m not sayin’ anything-“

“Yes, you are.”

“Well- Nothin’ that we gotta read into, but you two were always so close-“

“Dad-“

“Who the fuck is Gordon.” Dean grunts, and you flush.

He looks pissed. And not you just flashed him and he’s got a boner at the table pissed.

Really pissed. Like he wants to bite someone’s head off, but hasn’t figured out who yet.

It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

“He’s- He’s just my childhood friend-“

“Childhood best friend.” Your dad corrects, and you’re going to fucking kill him and then yourself. “They were little bandits together, we all thought they’d end up datin’, but I guess they both got sidetracked.”

“We didn’t get sidetracked.” You mutter, staring at your plate.

You can feel Dean’s gaze burning into you. It’s almost impossible to look him in the eyes.

“We just- It was never like that-“

“Didn’t he take you to prom?”

“As friends-“

“You didn’t come home ‘till the morning-“

Something cracks, and you and your dad both fall silent.

Dean’s broken his mug. With his hands. One hand.

Oh, God.

You’re worried that if you stand up, there’s going to be a slick stain on your chair.

“You alright, buddy?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” Dean stares at you, nostrils flaring. “You gonna call the boy?”

Boy. Not man, boy. And he says it so mockingly, it makes you feel buzzy and faint.

“No.” You try to sound normal, but you’re sure it comes out pathetic and dazed. “I- Um- We never-“ You glance nervously at your dad, and clear your throat. “Gordon actually ditched me for Anna, on prom night. That was- It was why we stopped talking.”

“Oh.” Your dad makes a sour face. “Well, I always knew he was gonna be bad news eventually. You deserve better, kiddo, and if I see him again I’ll give him a piece of my mind- I’m sure Dean will too.”

And you have to agree with that.

Dean looks like he’s about to go and smash Gordon’s head against the curb. Your dad keeps rambling about Gordon and kids not knowing what they want and how both he and Dean will make sure you never settle for less than you deserve. Dean keeps staring at you, and you’re sure that part is true as well.

Dean’s not going to let you settle for anything less than what you deserve at all. If he can help it, he’s never going to allow you to settle, period.

You really hope he knows, that it’s him and nothing else. Never anything else. Whatever confusing feelings you had eventually developed for Gordon had vanished when you were a teenager. You’d barely had a college boyfriend—more like a few loose options you’d kicked to the curb once you decided they’d lead to pallid and sickly futures—and no one in your life has ever made you care about a relationship the way Dean does.

And you really worry sometimes, that he doesn’t understand that. You try to remind him, but the age gap hangs over your heads like a sword of Damocles. He’s said before that there has to be better boys for you. Boys your age.

You don’t want a boy your age. You want a man.

You want Dean.

And from the look of him, you’re not sure he’d be able to stomach you with anyone else.

“I’m not going to call Gordon.”

Dean looks up from the sink. You’d followed him into the bathroom while your dad cleaned the grill, desperate to make sure he understood. You like him a little grumpy and mocking. It makes everything in your chest feel wrong, when he really seems upset.

“Alright.” Is all he mutters, grabbing a towel to dry his hands.

“Dean-“

“What?”

He gives you a challenging look. You swallow, and lean back against the door.

“I love you.”

The first time you’d said it had been all romantic and dumb in the rain. It had fumbled from your lips like a prayer, and he’d kissed you until your legs gave out. Even now, months later, it has the safe effect. Dean’s shoulders slump, and his eyes soften. Everything in him softens. Just for you.

“I love you too, princess-“

“No.” You whisper, pressing your lips in a tight line. “I really love you.”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, I know-“

“Dean.” You push off the door, your eyes locked onto his. “I love you.”

No one else, is what you tell him with your eyes. Just you. Always just you.

Dean blinks, his gaze raking over your body, then darting to the door. He rasps your name, because he knows you too well. He knows that glint in your eyes, he knows the sweet smile playing on your lips. He tells you all the time, that it almost gives him a heart attack. You close the distance in small, cautious steps. Dean clears his throat, looking almost desperate for you to take mercy.

You won’t. You need him to understand.

“Sweetheart, you can’t-“

“Yes I can.” You sink to your knees, and Dean grabs a fistful of your hair.

Your drag your hands over his thighs, and his swallows hard, a vein in his brow ticking as he tries to keep still.

“Come on.” He rasps. “This ain’t behaving.”

You shrug, slowly undoing his belt buckle. “Oops.”

Dean’s chest heaves, and a small groan rumbles in his chest as you kiss his crotch. You watch him under hooded lashes, pulling down his pants and taking his underwear with them.

He’s already hard. Thick in your hand and weeping from his slit, the angry red of his cock demanding your attention, even as he tries to talk you out of it.

“Baby, you- You don’t gotta-“

“But I want to.” You murmur, slowly pumping his cock with a light grip.

Dean grunts, bucking into your hand. His head is tossed back, his eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming out in pants. You stop stroking him, and he immediately looks back down.

“What’re you-“

“Can I?” You press your cheek into his thigh, letting your warm breath fan over his balls. “Please?”

You pout, just to be sure he knows. Dean never likes making you do this. He always whines on and on about how it should be about you, not him. He says he gets off just fine tasting you and making you cum on his fingers. You’re still trying to make him understand that just the thought of him fucking your face like a toy ruins your underwear.

You’ll be sure to show him after.

Dean stares down at you, gripping the bathroom sink and petting the top of your head. He lets out a ragged breath, closes his eyes, then drags them back open. You think he might be checking that you’re still there.

You’re about to suck his soul out of his cock. He’s not going to get rid of you that easy.

“You sure?” He mutters, and you nod eagerly.

“Please.”

A feral sound rumbles from his throat. His dick twitches, and he gives the tiniest nod. 

“Is that-“

“Go for it.” A smile ghosts his lips. “Show me what you’ve got, baby.”

You give him a flat look. He knows damn well, what you’ve got. And you can see him smirking, opening his mouth to say something cocky and smug about you biting off more than you can chew.

You don’t give him the chance, before you’re wrapping your mouth around his head and swirling your tongue.

Dean groans, his blunt nails scraping against your head as his whole body tenses. You hum around him and repeat the motion, again, and then one more time for good measure.

“Jesus-“ He chokes out your name. “Warn a guy- I- Wasn’t fuckin’ ready-“

You smile, pushing further down. You suck lightly, taking his base into your hand and pumping it in time with your mouth. Dean makes a sinful, deep noise that comes straight from your dreams. He croaks out your name, bowing his head and tugging on your hair as his cock pulses in your mouth.

“Baby- Fuck-“

You take your free hand and grab his balls, slowly massaging them as your mouth picks up the pace. Dean’s looking down at you like you fell from Heaven, right onto your knees for him, and him alone.

“You’re a fuckin’ brat, you know that? Just- Lookin’ at me and- Shiiit-“

He’s losing composer. It’s what you live for. The way his eyes roll back and he starts to shallowly thrust between your lips, letting drool slip down your chin and pre-cum leak over your tongue.

“Mouth was made for me.” He grits out, his teeth bared and voice tight. “Pretty little slut, know you love this shit. You’re wet, aren’t you. Drippin’ all over the floor for me.”

You moan in agreement, and Dean slams his hips forward. His cock bruises the back of your throat and you have to relax your jaw to stop yourself from gagging. Dean tenses, his voice raw and strained.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry-“

You’re not having any of that.

Dean cuts himself off with another guttural sound as you push yourself forward. Your nose brushes his abdomen, your jaw unhinged to take all of him, and it’s still not enough. You stick out your tongue, flicking the underside of his cock as you squeeze his balls.

“Son of a bitch- You-“

You suck, letting your throat squeeze around the head of him. He makes another, feral sound, and tugs at your hair.

“Baby, shit- You’re so fuckin’ warm, and- You gotta get off or-“

He almost whimpers as you pull back, sliding off his cock with a pop and stroking it as you leave an open-mouth kiss on the swollen head. Dean’s fingers flex, and you know he wants to shove you back down.

You give him a soft smile, kissing down his shaft, then over his balls. You suck there for a second, still jerking his cock in your free hand, and he finally snaps. Pulling you back by your hair and giving you a wrecked, hopeless look. He’s trying to use his listen to me voice, but he seems to know it’s a lost cause. You’ve got him exactly where you want him.

He says your name like a prayer, and you open your mouth. Stick out you tongue, fixing him with a challenging glare.

Dean swallows. “You sure- Fuck-“

You flick your tongue over his head, squeezing the base of his dick tight.

Dean shakes his head, looking up like he’s praying.

“Gonna be the death of me.” He mutters, and you know you’ve won.

You keen as Dean’s grip on your hair tightens. He shoves you right down his cock, pushing against the back of your throat before yanking you back. You moan around him, your eyes watering from the overwhelming taste and force. You’re barely more than a cocksleeve for his pleasure, and that’s exactly what you wanted.

Dean barely able to think outside of where he’s fucking your mouth, making broken and worshipful sounds, calling your name with every thrust.

“Fuck, baby- Takin’ it so good, love you like this, choking on my cock. Look so pretty for me, wish I could take a picture- Fuuuckkkk-“

He tosses his head back, still watching his cock pump between your lips. He gets transfixed and babbles, coming apart above you as you just keep smiling and taking it.

“Pretty girl,” he grits out. “My pretty fuckin’ slut, sucking dick like a damn vacuum- Crying for me, baby girl, you need this cock that bad-“

You mewl in agreement, dizzy from the praise. You do need his cock that bad. If the thoughts weren’t being fucked from your head, you whimper that no one fucks your mouth like he does. No one makes you feel so holy and used all at the same time. You’re so wet you feel it every time you shift, so wet you’re worried he’s going to be able to smell it. But you love this. The taste and weight of him, and how no one gets it but you.

It’s almost pornographic, the way he’s taking your mouth. Your lips shine with spit and pre-cum, tears pour down your cheeks as his thrusts become jagged sharp, and sweat shines on Dean’s thighs as you keep working his balls. They’re getting tight and heavy in your hands. He’s about to loose it.

“Baby-“ He taps your cheek, words pushed out between moans. “Baby, I- I’m gonna-“

You sink your nails into his thigh. You’ve never failed to swallow before, and you’re not starting now.

Dean hisses out your name, but doesn’t stop. You moan around him, sucking as hard as you can to shove him over the edge.

He cums hard, shooting thick ropes of release down your throat. You unhinge your jaw, and manage to get most of it. But he always lets out so much, and a fair amount ends up smeared with your tears and dripping down his legs.

You pull slowly back, and start to lick up what you weren’t able to get on your first try. Dean hisses, sensitive from the orgasm, and strokes his hand through your hair. His gaze is fixed on where some had dripped down to your tits. You have a feeling that if you were really, truly in private, he’d shove his face into your chest and clean you up himself.

“You are-“ He lets out a broken laugh, as you smile up at him. “Something else.”

“You’ve told me.” You tease, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“Too proud of it.” He grumbles. “Like you want to be over my knee later.”

You shrug, eyes sparkling. Dean’s jaw ticks.

His thumb swipes over your cheek, where a little bit of the cum is still stained.

“Open.” He mutters, and you obey.

He presses his thumb between your swollen lips, and you take it with a happy hum. Dean groans, watching you suckle his release of his finger. You flutter your lashes at him. He pulls out, smearing spit over your cheek.

“I’m goin’ in an hour.” His voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it. It sends an excited, electric thrill between your legs. “You better follow, or I’m comin’ here and fucking you in your daddy’s house.”

You nod like a bobblehead, unable to even find the words. Dean laughs and pulls you to your feet, kissing you harshly. It’s messy and open, possessive in a way you’d never found hot before you had him.

Other boys being possessive had seemed like they thought of you as a nice little toy they threw a tantrum over having to share. With anyone, even your friends.

Dean being possessive makes you feel priceless. Treasured. He’s yours, and he doesn’t want you to forget it. You can do whatever the hell you want, just so long as you remember that he’s yours.

Your dad is calling for you again. Dean slips out of the bathroom first—he doesn’t have cum and drool to clean off his face—but not before kissing your cheek and slapping your ass.

He says you’re going to be the death of him, but he’s bouncing around like he’s ten years younger. You’re the one who needs to clutch the railing as she walks downstairs. He didn’t even fuck you and it’s hard to walk from the throb between your legs.

You’d been right. You’d completely destroyed your underwear, turning it to just a soaked scrap of lace.

And Dean might have you begging at his feet, but you don’t roll over that easy. You pulled off your panties before you left the bathroom. You keep them bundled in your fist while Dean talks to your dad for the last hour, sitting on the counter with your legs crossed. When it’s time for him to go, he wanders over to give a perfectly innocent goodnight.

His eyes are gleaming, as he drawls see you around, kid.

Kid.

He knows you hate it when he calls you kid. And suddenly, you don’t feel bad anymore.

“Night, grandpa.” You say lightly, and Dean laughs, but it’s rougher than before. You can see it in his eyes, the way he’s planning out every single way he’s going to make you pay for that.

Then you stick out your hand, and he blinks. There’s a confused, cautious shadow over his face as he takes your hand and shakes it. You cover it with your fist, and slip your panties into his grip.

Dean pulls back with a frown, looks down, and coughs so loud he staggers. You bite your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. Your father looks up from the sink with a worried face.

“You alright, Dean?”

“Yeah, uh- Yeah.” He stares at you, working his jaw. His words are pushed through his teeth, and you can see his cock, already straining through his jeans again.

His closes his fist around your panties, and shoves them into his pockets. Your dad asks him something else, but you don’t hear it. You’re fully fixed on Dean. On the dangerous promise in his eyes.  

You’re in trouble.

Good.

Dean lives more than twenty minutes away, but you make the drive in fifteen.

You’re desperate, and past denying it. You’ve got the hottest man alive waiting for you and finally about to fuck you, anyone else would be breaking traffic laws as well.

It wasn’t hard to sneak past your father, especially because you failed to sneak past him. You got downstairs and found him watching TV. You’d thought he was in bed, and the blood had drained from your face.

“Dad, uh- You’re-“

“Just watchin’ Jeopardy.” He’d said, not looking away from the screen. “You going to Dean’s?”

You’d tripped over nothing, and choked on the air.

“I- I don’t- I’m not- What-“

“Don’t insult me, kiddo.” He twists, giving you a flat look. “I ain’t blind and stupid. He had a hard on the whole night.”

“Um-“ You fidget with your fingers, unsure if you should run or just drop dead. “That’s- Maybe he was texting his girlfriend-“

“He never texts his girlfriend. He just texts you.”

You open your mouth, then close it. You’re dead. Dean’s dead. Your dad is going to kill him and you’re never even going to get to have sex, and that’s such a huge bummer because you’re just going to sit at his grave forever, and turn into a tree like some old myth, and then your dad is going have no one to talk to sports about. Everyone is losing in this scenario. It’s awful.

“Was it his fault?” You say, because it’s all you can think of. “That you realized?”

Your dad snorts. “Oh, yeah. I had suspensions-“

“Suspicions-“

“I caught you on a date.” He says your name dryly. “You said you were there alone, but his car was in the lot. He said he was datin’ a girl who worked in a bookshop. You’d been wearing his shirt to bed.”

Your mouth falls open, your cheeks burning.

“Oops.”

“Yeah. Oops.” Your dad sighs, turning back to the TV. “Realized when he let me call you on his phone. Dumbass opened the message thread for me and everything.”

Oh. Oh no.

Again, there wasn’t much outside of sex that you and Dean hadn’t done. Which, tragically, included sexting.

A lot of sexting.

Photos of you in lingerie and dick pics and voice memos and a lot of videos, and you’re going to throw up-

“You- You didn’t-“

“Saw more of Dean than I ever wanted to.” Your dad mutters, making a face like he’s also going to be sick. “Was about to punch him for sending that shit to you, but there was a voice memo with it. Listened for about ten seconds, almost got sick, realized it was at least mutual.”

You cringe. You remember that voice memo and photo, just as well as you remember your dad calling you on Dean’s phone because his was dead. You’d thought he sounded weird. You wished you hadn’t been so right.

“I’m so sorry-“

“He treat you well?”

You blink. You almost don’t understand the question.

“Of- Of course he does.”

“Hm.” Your dad frowns at the TV. “He gonna marry you?”

“Dad-“

“I’m just sayin’.” He shrugs. “If he’s puttin’ us all through this, he better hope he doesn’t break your heart. You know I was in the military.”

You almost laugh. “He was in the military-“

“I was ranked higher.”

“Dean was a marine-“

“You think I couldn’t kick his ass?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think you don’t have to, because he won’t break my heart.”

For a second, you just stare at each other. Then your father huffs, and slumps back into the couch.

“Good.” He waves a hand. “Have fun.”

You nod, then go still.

Have fun.

That’s… Approval.

Your dad knows about you and Dean, and he—begrudgingly, but that’s the best you can hope for—approves.

So that should be the first thing you tell Dean when you get through the door. That you don’t have to keep hiding. You’re rehearsing breaking the news your whole drive over, mumbling the speech under your breath when you knock on the door.

But then Dean opens it, and suddenly there’s only one important thing in the world.

Greetings are forgotten, as Dean wraps an arm around your waist and drags you into his chest. You whimper as his mouth slams over yours, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him further down.

“Haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you since I left.” Dean groans, pulling your jacket off with scrambling hands. “Got in the car and wanted to turn around, sneak back through the window like a fuckin’ teenager- Jesus, you don’t know what you do to me-“

You surge up on your toes, throwing your arms around his shoulder and kissing him until you’re breathless and swaying.

“I- I know.” You whisper. “God, Dean, I know-“

He makes one of those deep, hungry, rumbling sounds, spinning you both around so he can kick the door close. You stumble closer, pressing him back against the wall as your pull his upper lip between your kiss. Dean grunts and crashed forward, grabbing your face between his hands and pressing back.

“Needy.” He mutters between open mouth kisses. “Needy fuckin’ girl, can’t even let me take a breath, can you?”

You tip you head back, your words breathy and high as Dean starts to kiss over your neck.

“You- You kissed me first.”

Dean hums, nipping at your throat. He’s dragging his hands down your sides, slipping one under your shirt to caress your spine while the other gropes at your ass.

“I did, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.” You mumble, lost in the heat of his mouth. He’s sucking on a sensitive pulse point, letting his tongue flick over the skin, and he knows what that does to you. “De- Dean-“

“Guess I’m the one who couldn’t wait.” He says, but it’s mostly to himself. “Been dreamin’ of this for so long, sweetheart. You here.” He kisses further down, pulling down your shirt to get access to the top of your chest. “’Bout to be in my bed.” He bunches up the fabric of your shirt, and only his arm around you is keeping you upright. “’Bout to be on my cock.”

He hisses the last words before rushing back up into a starved, sloppy kiss. He rips off your shirt in the same second, before smoothly unclipping your bra. You gasp as the cold air hits your nipples, nails scratching at Dean’s neck.

“Shit- Dean-“

“I’ve got you.” He scoops you into his arms, kissing your cheek.

“Do you-“ You swallow at his flat, amused look. “Sorry.”

His lips twitch, and he doesn’t break your gaze as he walks down the hall. “You know, you always get mouthy when you’re horny.”

You scowl. “I do not-“

“You do-“

“No, I-“

Dean cranes his neck, capturing your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. You respond in a second with a light tug of his hair, eliciting another pleased, low rumble from his chest.

He pulls back, and you chase him. Getting one more, quicker kiss that he melts into within a second.

“You do.” He rasps, nipping at your nose. “You turn into a real brat.”

You glare, ready to snap something that would only prove his point. But Dean grins, and suddenly you’re being dumped down onto his bed. You yelp at the sudden movement, wiggling and holding him tight enough to strange. Dean grunts, falling forward and barely managing to brace himself over you as you both crash down to the mattress.

“Jesus-“ He mutters your name, and you shove his shoulders.

“You surprised me-“

“You almost killed me-“

“Oh, you’re fine-“

“I’m old, that coulda broken my knees-“

“Shut up.”

You grab his face, pressing up for another stumbling, frantic series of kisses. You’ve kissed Dean pretty much everywhere—on his body and geographically—but this is always your favorite place. On his pretty mouth, under him in his bed. There’s nothing around you that isn’t Dean, and it’s intoxicating. The pine and spice scent of him, the heat of his body, the fact that he just lay here by himself sometimes. Thinking of you, the same way you think of him.

Dean wraps his arms around you, pulling you up off the mattress. You hook your leg over his waist, flipping you both over so you’re straddling his lap and kissing him everywhere you can reach. You grind down onto his sweats, and he moans shamelessly, his fingers digging into your hips.

“You- You’re not wearing your fucking panties-“

“I gave them to you.” You mumble, pressing your ass down against his thickness. The fabric scrapes against your bare pussy, offering perfect friction, and you start to hump him like you’re in heat.

 Dean drags his hand up your spine, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you up his chest. He lets you keep working yourself down on his bulge for a few seconds longer, moaning into your mouth as you tease him.

“Dirty, dirty girl.” He scolds, the mocking tone in his voice just spurring you on.

He knows you love it. That’s why he likes it.

“Walkin’ around in just a skirt.” He dips a hand under your skirt, palming at your bare ass cheeks. “Should’ve folded you over the couch to see it. Pretty fuckin’ pussy, bet it’s already nice and wet for me.”’e

He reaches further down, and you gasp as his fingers brush your cunt. He’s right. Of course he is. Dean might know your body better than you do.

“Shit- Dean-“

“Shhh.” He splits two fingers, rubbing them over the outer lips of your pussy before pinching them together.

You whine, trying to hump up into his hand, but he splays his palm on your lower back and presses you back down.

“Behave.” He grunts. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For me to fuck you how I want?”

He squeezes harder, his thumb grazing over your clit. Your whole body tremors, and you press your face into the crook of Dean’s neck.

“Ye- Yes.” You pant. “But- You’re not fucking me- You’re just- Oooh-“

He flicks his thumb this time, and it’s like a tiny electric shock. You don’t know how he always does this. It doesn’t matter if he’s got his hand between your legs or your pussy right on his face, he plays it like an instrument. It would make you scream if it didn’t feel so good.

“Well,” Dean muses, dragging his thumb in slow torturous circles as he starts to rub your pussy again. “I told you to behave earlier. And did you?”e

You shake your head, almost so overwhelmed from the attention on your core that you forget how to speak. “N- No.”

“That’s right. So I’m gonna fuck you,” he pulls his hand away for a second, landing a sharp slap on your ass before pushing it  back. “When you remember how to be a good girl.”

You whimper, but don’t argue. This is what you’d asked for, with all the teasing.

You’d just thought he’d give it to you rough. That’s what behave usually meant. An invitation for you to test the line, if you wanted him to pin your on his mouth and make you cum under you were begging him to stop. Once it meant lying over his lap while he fingered and spanked you, and you’d cum so hard you saw stars.

But that’s not what this is.

You’re melted over Dean’s chest, and he’s being lazy and mean. He keeps playing with your pussy like it’s a cute little toy. Just brushing it and rubbing your clit with barely any pressure.

“Mo- More.” You plead. “I need more-“

You almost sob, as he pushes one finger just into your entrance before taking it away. You hug him so tight you think it must hurt, but he doesn’t even grunt.

“Look at that.” He coos in your ear, smearing a little bit of your arousal on your thigh. “You’re making a mess on me, baby. Just from a little bit of touchin’.”

“Was- Was not a little bit-“

“Wasn’t much.” Dean muses, landing a sharp slap on your swollen pussy. “But it never takes much to get my girl wet, does it.”

You shake your head, tears pricking at your eyes again. You’d beg if you had the words, but right now you’re just trying to hold on.

“Everything makes you so horny.” Dean drawls, going back to rubbing his big, warm hand over your pussy. “Remember when we got ice cream? Had to fuck you in my car, ‘cause you couldn’t even wait to get to the damn house.”

“You- You were- You were wearing a really nice shirt-“

“Sure, princess. It was the shirt.”

“It was-“

Dean slaps your pussy again, and your words fall into a whine.

“You ashamed of the truth, princess?” He teases, right in your ear. “How you really wanted me to stuff you up, fuck you and fill you like the cumslut that you are?”

You keen, and you can’t stop yourself from humping his hand again. This time, Dean lets you. He knows you need it.

“That’s right, baby girl. I know you like that.” He bites your ear, and you wiggle your ass right onto his fingers, trying to force one or two inside you. “I remember how I came on your thighs. You almost got me to put it in that day. One more of those pretty pleases and I woulda caved.”

“De- Deeaan-“

“Kept those panties too. I got a whole drawer for them, just for when I miss you.” He kisses the side of your head. “And I always fuckin’ miss you.”

The tears start to flow, half from the debaucherous sweetness of Dean’s words, and half from desperation. If you don’t cum right now, you’re going to explode.

And you’re close. You’re so close. Your pussy is clenching around nothing, but you’ve gotten the tips of Dean’s fingers to press onto your clit, and the sensitive little button is going to be enough to get you over the edge. He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls it up, forcing you to meet his eyes as you work down onto his fingers. You sob in desperation, lips quivering and tits bouncing. Dean groans, pushing up to kiss you as hard as he can. And you’re so close.

Then the asshole stops.

He pulls his hand away, slaps your pussy, and stops.

You make a strangled, broken sound of defeat, and Dean just chuckles. He makes you both sit up, massaging your ass and kissing away your tears.

“Nice try.” He smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “You think you earned bein’ able to cum?”

“Ye- Yes.” You pout hopefully, and Dean chuckles.

“Aw, sweetheart. You ain’t even mouthy anymore.”  

You swallow. “I- I can be-“

“Jesus.” Dean laughs, and that pools right in you tummy, the embarrassment stoking an already raging fire. 

Dean’s rubbing your sides, kissing all over your shoulders as breasts as you just try to breathe. You earned this. You really did. But god, it’s a perfect torture. He’s just kissing and touching you, in a way that would almost be innocent if you weren’t soaked wearing just a skirt and leaving a stain on his jeans. 

“’M sorry.” You breathe out, wrapping your arms around Dean’s head.

He hums, taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Your eyes flutter, and it’s hard to stay focused. He’s so warm, his tongue dragging in little circles. You swallow, your voice getting higher as he starts to suck.

“I- I’m sorry I teased you, De- I- Pleaseeee-“

Dean moves away, grabbing your jaw and holding it back for him to inspect. You give him your best, pleading expression and pray it breaks him.

He taps your lips with his thumb. “Open.”

You obey in a second, and Dean’s lips twitch. He leans down, and spits right into your open mouth.

He’s done this before. It practically makes you gush every time. And it doesn’t help that he’s wrapped all around you, watching you with such teasing affection as you take it so easily. You swallow, and blink up at him with a fucked out, dazed expression.

“Good girl.” He mutters, and you beam up at him. “Yeah, I know. You like bein’ a good girl.”

God, you do. And from Dean’s lips, the words feel like a rush of adrenaline.

“But you’re not gonna learn, are you?” He drawls. “Gonna keep me on my toes, running around trying to find places to fuck you that won’t get us arrested.”

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But you like me like that.”

That makes him laugh again, before he pulls you into a shockingly sweet, slow kiss.

“Damn right I do,” he mutters, before pulling back way. “Alright. Up.”

You blink at him. “Huh.”

“Stand up.” He nods to the foot of the bed. “Take off your skirt, ‘n come back.”

“But- You’re- You’re still-“

“Trust me, sweetheart.” Dean kisses the tip of your nose. “If I keep these pants on longer, Little Dean is gonna suffocate. I’ll take care of it.”

You giggle softly, and obey the command. The air feels cold, without Dean there folded over you. It’s just further motivation for you to push down your skirt and wait for his next request.

And you’ve been naked in front of Dean before. Many times, to varying degrees. But you’ve never done it like this.

Just… Bare. Wearing nothing and standing for him to see so clearly, as he pulls off his jeans and shirt then settles at the headboard. He’s taken his cock in his hand, and started to stroke it slowly. Looking you up and down with a lazy grin. Your skin prickles with anticipation, and with anyone else you’d try to wrap your arms around your stomach or shrink back and hide. And the first time you tried that, he’d pinned your hands over your head and fingered you until you squirted.

So maybe you should try it.

“Don’t even think about it.” He growls, when you move. “Wanna see you, baby.”

You swallow, shifting on your feet. “You can see me.”

“Hell yeah, I can.”

Dean’s gaze is burning into you. And it’s the most impossibly sensual thing you’ve ever see, Dean’s massive cock in his hand. The way it twitches and jumps as he touches it, as he watches you. He grunts, his hand staring to beat harder, and you press your thighs tight together.

It’s just you, that’s making him all flushed and hard. You almost start to drool again, thinking about crawling down the mattress and taking him back in your mouth. How he’d probably let you, with how he’s got lidded eyes and making low, rough grunts.

It’s a powerful, beautiful feeling.

But unfortunately, not enough to stop you from scrambling forward the moment he stretches out a hand.

Dean laughs, spinning you around so your back is tucked into his chest. His hand that hand been on his cock hitches up your leg, and the other wraps around your stomach, his fingers grazing under your breast. You tip your head back against his shoulder, closing your eyes and getting lost in the feeling. Dean, wrapped so fully and completely around you, keeping you nice and warm in his massive arms.

“Look at you.” He kisses along your jaw, fingers dragging over your sensitive inner thigh. “Nice and stupid for me already. Ready to be a pretty doll and take this cock.”

“Need it.” You breathe out, grabbing his forearm. “Pleeease, Dean, I’ve been waiting so long-“

You moan as he parts the swollen lips of your pussy, letting his cock slip and rub between your folds.

“I know you have.” He mutters. “Been waitin’ longer. Almost lost my mind, knowin’ how tight and warm you were but not being able to fuck you. Fuck you right, fuck you properly, fuck you ‘till you ain’t ever gonna remember another mans name.”

“Just you.” You manage to whine out, pushing your hips up to get a little more friction. “Always just you, Dean, don’t want anyone else, never wanted anyone else- Fuuuck-“

He pushes inside. It’s slow and careful, deft fingers rubbing your clit to help you relax. It’s not like much help is needed, though. He’s so big you can’t close your fingers around him, but he slips into your cunt like a glove.

“Shit-“ Dean groans in your ear, lips hot and wet on your skin. “Greedy pussy swallowing me up, baby, knew you’d take me so good, take me perfect-“

He bottoms out, pressing against a gooey spot deep inside you body. Nobody’s ever really hit it before, let along split you open so well it gets a consistent, throbbing pressure. His tip kisses your cervix, his breathing ragged in your ear, and you both need a few seconds to adjust.

You turn your head, trying to chase his mouth, and find Dean already there. He kisses you slowly, open mouthed with his tongue mapping every inch of your mouth. His arms are fully wrapped around your stomach, and you cling to them like a seatbelt. You’re lightheaded in the best possible way. Dean hums against your lips, and the sound vibrates inside of you.

You mewl, tossing your head back and clenching down. Dean hisses, and pulls you further back into his chest.

“Son of a bitch, you can’t just-“

“Sorry.” You whine out, turning your face to hide in his neck. “Just- ‘S big, Dean. So big.”

Dean chuckles. It doesn’t help.

“Big, huh?”

“Don’t milk it.” You grumble, and he laughs fully.

“I don’t think I’m the one that’s gonna be doin’ the milking, princess.”

He thrusts up, and you whimper.

“Dean-“

“That’s right.” He repeats the shallow thrust, and your moan gets loud. “Sing for me, baby, show ‘em who owns this pussy.”

“Y- You.” You stutter out. Your head is empty. You don’t think you can fit Dean’s cock and thinking at the same time. “Dean- Deeean-“

He attaches his lips to your neck again, sucking and kissing as he pushes you further down on his cock.

But he stops thrusting. He just has you… sit there.

On him. So full you can barely breathe, every nerve in your body stimulated but being offered no relief.

“What- What’re you-“

“Wanna keep you’re here for a while.” He murmurs, his kisses slowing. Becoming lazy and over attentive again, without giving you what you really need. “Just like this. My perfect fuckin’ girl, look at you.”

He taps your clit, and you try to arch up into the touch, but his hold is too strong.

“Fuck- Dean-“

“Just a little bit, baby.” He coos, rubbing your clit with the very tip of his fingers. “Just hold it for me.”

And God, you try. You sit on Dean and let him tease and touch you however he wants. He drags circles around your clit until you’re panting and whining, then moves his attention back up to your nipples. Tweaking and rolling them between his fingers, kissing over your neck and shoulders as his cock twitches inside of you with every lewd moans of his name.

“You like that?” He murmurs, and you nod.

Then he stops it, kissing the sob out of your mouth and moving onto something else.

He’s done this to you before. Had you in his arms and teased you until you couldn’t take it, then let you cum. But he’s never done it while sheathed inside of you. It heightens everything, making it impossible to think outside of his hands and lips and cock. His thick cock, not pressing against your ass, but buried in your cunt and still hitting all those sensitive places.

You’re on fire, and Dean’s just letting you build and build and build up to an explosive pressure. There are spots dancing behind your eyes, when he starts rubbing your clit in fast, brutal circles, then stops just before you can fall over the edge. You claw at his arms, wrecked beyond words, sobbing and trying to get away and get him closer.

For a second, you make the mistake of bowing your head. Your eyes flutter open, and you get a full view of Dean’s cock settled inside you. His balls pressed right against your ass, the way he almost fit everything in, but there’s still a bit of his base that didn’t make it. It’s slick with your arousal, dripping right out of your pussy as you whimper.

“De- Deaaan-“ It’s all you’ve been moaning, for who knows how long.

You’re so overstimulated, time is starting to blur. Maybe it’s been an hour, maybe only five minutes. It feels like you’ve been here forever.

“Please- Please-“ You blubber, leaning back to look at him under tear-stained lashes, the words falling from swollen lips. “I- I’ll do anything, oooooh- Fuck-“

Dean gives a shallow thrust, and your whole body spasms. He’s watching under hooded, lust blown eyes. And if the starved, animalistic look in his eyes is any clue, if he doesn’t cave for your sake, he’s going to cave for his.

“You gonna be good for me?” He rasps, and you nod frantically.

“So good- Please-“

Dean kisses you again, but this time he shifts you in his arms. His arm wraps around your neck, pinning you fully to his chest in a headlock. Your eyes roll back, a dazed smile covering your face.

His movements are relaxed and controlled, but you can see the feral glint his eyes.

You won.

“Perfect fuckin’ pussy, making a mess all over this cock.” He grunts out, bending his knees so you’re fully folded into his lap. “Could die here, baby- Fuucckkk-“

He seems to lose his own voice, the second he starts thrusting up into you. A beautiful moan rumbles in your ears, and Dean presses his nose tight against the side of your head. You whimper, holding onto him tight, mostly to try and keep grounded.

Dean’s fucking into you at a rough, snapping pace, and this is what you’d expected, but it’s better than you could’ve dream. The feeling of every vein and inch of him being pushed though your cunt. The obscene sounds of his cock slamming into you cunt, his arm around you forcing your head back onto his shoulder, giving you a full glimpse of Dean as your pussy strangles and squeezes him.

He looks destroyed, panting broken praise in your ear as his lips droop and his mouth hangs open.

You push up a little, managing to get his attention with a whimper. He gives you a curious look, then understands in a second. His lips mold over yours, and you babble some cockdrunk nonsense against his mouth. You’re fully crying again, so lost in the pleasure that you can’t even find the shame to care. Dean’s drilling up, pushing every thought in your head away into a pleasurable haze.

He pulls your knees up higher, letting him hit even deeper than before. Each stoke is deep and rough, and you’d been worked up so well that your pussy is just weeping and taking him like you’re a fuckdoll. You feel like one, in the best possible way. Stuffed up and pounded with abandon, slicking Dean’s cock so that it drives right back into your like a toy.

You moan, letting your eyes close and drowning in the impossibly good feeling. You can’t believe you waited this long. If Dean fucks like this, you might never get off his cock again.

“That’s it,” he squeezes your breast before moving those sinful fingers back down to play with your clit. “Takin’ me so perfect, baby girl, just gotta cum for me- Cum all over my dick, show me how much you love it- Come on-“

That’s really all it takes. Dean’s everywhere around you, his cock bullying into that gooey spot, and your orgasms hits you so hard you think you black out. The heat that had pooled in your stomach explodes and floods all your senses, pouring out of your pussy as your hips buck and you squirm in his grip.

Dean groans your name, and his thrusts get tighter. Faster and more brutal as he chases his own release. It prolongs your own orgasm, forcing it to drag out as you vision dances with spots.

Dean slams home, turning your head to find another, bruising kiss, and now you might be ascending. He’s cumming deep, deep into your pussy, and the sounds get better as he fucks it back into you. Everything in you is so full, you think you might be about to burst with light.

You get a soft kiss on your brow, as his grip loosens around your neck. When he finally settles and tries to pull away, you fumble to grab his wrist, fixing him with a pleading stare. You don’t ever want to be empty again.

“Gotta take care of you, baby.” Dean mutters, kissing the back of your hand. “We can do more later. When you’re talkin’.”

You roll your eyes, and he chuckles, booping your nose. You wrinkle it, and he kisses the angry pout off your lips.

“Silly girl.” He murmurs, and just like that you’re melting again. “Like I could live with myself if I didn’t fuck you again.”

You flush, and roll over to hide it in the sheets. Dean laughs, kissing the base of your spine and slapping your ass before fully standing up.

And you learn another difference between boys and men. All the douchebags you’ve slept with before rolled off of you and started smoking or talking about something unimportant.

Dean gets you water, and coaxes it down your throat. He draws a bath and carries you into it, but not before making sure you pee. He changes the sheets and gets you clean clothing and brings you a snack, smiling at you and kissing the top of your head every single time.

“You’re like a maid.” You mumble once you’re back in bed, curled into his chest.

He laughs, grinning down at you. “Only for my favorite girl.”

“I’m your favorite?”

“Don’t be a brat.” He gives you an amused look. “Don’t think you’d be able to handle another round, honey.”

You sigh dramatically, flopping fully onto his chest. You prop your chin up, watching him watch you. There’s that quiet, unending adoration again. You wish you could see it every second of every day, instead of sneaking out and-

Oh.

“Shit.” You sit up, and Dean grunts, grabbing your waist to keep you steady.

“What, what’s wrong-“

“I- Um- You can’t get mad.”

Dean says your name in a low warning, and you swallow.

“My- My dad- He, um-“

“Sweetheart-“

“He knows!” You blurt. “He’s known for a while, actually, and it’s- It’s actually your fault, you showed him that dick pic and voice memo you sent me-“

“I what-“

“You did it by accident! But you still did it, and-“

“Which one did he hear?” Dean demands, and you cringe.

“The one about- About tying me up.”

Dean goes pale. He groans, tipping his head back and grabbing onto you like he thinks someone’s going to rip you away.

“God fuckin’- I’m dead-“

“No!” You grab his face with a smile. “You’re not! He’s fine with it!”

Dean blinks. “He is?”

You nod. “He- Well, he wants to know when you’re going to marry me, but- Um-“ You laugh nervously. Dean’s older. You just had sex for the first time. He probably doesn’t want to think about that yet. “You know. He’s chill.”

“He’s chill.” Dean echoes.

“Mhm. Except for- The marriage thing.”

Dean hums. He’s relaxed again, dragging his palms in slow circles over your ass. His lips pull into that lazy, satisfied smirk. You flush just from the sight of it.

“What?”

“Nothin’.” He squeezes your waist. “Just tell him to give it a few months.”

“A- Give what-“

Dean raises his brows. Your mouth falls open.

“A few months-“

“I know what I want.” Dean shrugs. And you can see it. Him watching you so, so carefully.

And you smile.

Because you do to.

“Yeah?” You whisper, leaning down to hover your lips over his.

“Yeah.” He mutters. “That alright with you?”

You answer with a kiss, and Dean grunts, immediately rolling you over. And this sweet, slow moment feels like it’s going to last forever.

You hope—you pray—that it does.

✦End note: honestly this might be one of my favorite i hope you enjoyed it.✦

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And then he turns back around, and your eyes are gifted with the sight of his face. You openly swoon and reach out for him. The expression on his features is a mix smack dab between amusement and surprise. His usually reserved, composed wife is now a wide open book. Large print, descriptive pictures. He can already read you well, but now you’re making it as obvious as a chapter book to him.

“C’mere,” you whine. He stays put, only a few feet from you, just to see what you’d do. Briefly, you consider getting up to go to him, but the couch is so comfy, and you’re sure your legs are jello by now. Leon’s got a smug look on his face. “Don’t be a dick, put those huge guns of yours to good use and hold me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” the words wrap around you like a hug of their own before he follows with a physical embrace. You bury your face in his chest and sigh. Take a deep breath of his cologne with a hum.

“Only ridiculous thing here is your fuckin’ body,” you mumble into his shirt. It’s soft, worn, and incredibly Leon. You could live here, you think. Nest in his arms and never leave. “D’you even understand how gorgeous you are? ‘S unfair.”

“Careful, honey, I don’t think my ego can get any bigger.”

“Something else could, though,” you mumble. His breath hitches when your hand lands on the crotch of his pants. 

“You’re drunk. That’s not happening.”

“C’mon,” you pout at him, eyes darkened. He’s not sure if it’s from the drinks or the desire. Probably both. “Been thinking about you, like, all night.”

“No,” he states firmly, moving your hand back to its previous place at his ribs. “Let’s try and sober you up a little, hm?” Leon attempts to pry himself from your hold. It doesn’t work. You’re hugging him like he’s your lifeline. “Baby, let me up.”

You don’t move. So he just hoists you into his arms. This seems to trigger another set of complaints in you, about how he’s so rude and won’t even fuck me but will show off your huge muscles just to piss me off. It’s all really entertaining to him. 

He leaves you at the dining table while he pads around the kitchen. You go suspiciously quiet as he prepares a glass of water and slips two slices of bread in the toaster. He turns on his heel, glass in hand, and the look on your face says it all; you’re enjoying the show again. He tries to ignore that his ears have begun to heat from all your attention.

“Drink,” he presses the water in your hands. You take a slow sip, deliberately watching him over the lip of the glass. It looks all too much like the way you’ve peered up at him from between his legs, your hands all over his thighs and your mouth on him. “Don’t look at me like that, honey.”

“What?” You play dumb, cocking your head to the side. The glass leaves your lips, and a few droplets remain on the edge of your mouth. Leon goes to thumb them away without a second thought, and feels like his knees may give out when you take his finger in your mouth with a brief suck. He feels something stir in his abdomen and swallows hard. The pad of his finger lingers on your lips, smudging your lipstick onto your chin. The kitchen is dead silent for a moment, so much so that you let out a squeak of surprise when the toaster pops up. Leon yanks his hand back like he’s been caught, busying himself with your snack to clear his head from thoughts he could not yet act on.

He makes your toast just the way you like; smothered in butter and cinnamon sugar.

“Thanks, handsome,” you’re practically batting your eyelashes at him. It’s so over the top that it’s more funny to him than anything, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that it only fueled the fire burning deep in him. You crunch down on the first bite with a happy noise. “Just’s sweet as you.”

He sits in the chair closest to you as you eat your toast. You must’ve staved off any bar snacks, because it’s gone within a minute. He supervises you as you slowly work at the glass of water. Your socked foot finds his own, and begins to rub upwards on his calf. His jaw sets as he looks at you, and you look right back, as if you’re doing nothing but sipping your water. So sweet, like you’ve never done anything more than give him a chaste peck before. It drives him crazy.

Eventually you finish your drink with an overdramatic aahh. Leon sighs and collects the dishes, pushing back from the table to deposit them in the sink.

“How’re you feeling?” He’s not sure why he even asks, because your response is smart, teasing.

“Horny,” Leon squeezes his eyes shut and wills away how he wants to pin you on the table you’re sitting at. He doesn’t turn around. He knows the look that’ll be on your face; an innocent grin, chin propped up on your hand like you haven’t been openly hitting on him after he’d already decided nothing is going to happen tonight. It’s truly torture, and he’s half-certain you’re doing it because of that exact reason, rather than an attempt to convince him otherwise. 

“I think it’s time for bed.”

Leon manages to wrangle you and your grabby hands into the bathroom. He sits you on the closed toilet and begins to gather all your nighttime routine items. The basic ones, at least. Makeup remover, a cloth, face wash, moisturizer. He knows that if he gets you in bed without washing your face, your inevitable hangover will turn out a touch worse than it needs to be.

He dabs lightly at your face at first, only for your eye makeup to stay put. A small giggle erupts from your mouth and something warm blooms in his chest as he lets you work through the fit of laughter. The smile rounds your cheeks and squeezes your eyes shut, the same way you laugh far too hard at his stupid jokes.

“Harder, Leon,” you say, playing up a bit of a moan in your voice. It’s too familiar of a sentence, and he grumbles under his breath. “What? You gotta go harder. And faster.” You’re poking the bear, at this point. And you’re honestly hoping he’ll maul you.

“Baby, I mean this in the most respectful way, I’m gonna need you to shut that pretty mouth of yours,” he takes your chin in his fingers to hold your face still as he begins to put more pressure into the cloth, and streaks of black finally begin to lift from your skin. You manage to contain yourself enough to let him finish. At least you had something very nice to look at in the meantime.

Once he’s finished, you stare at him expectantly. He knows he shouldn’t take the bait. But he can’t resist.

“What?”

“Was I good for you?”

“Fucking…” he sighs, tossing the used cloth on the counter and grabbing a fresh washcloth to wash your face. He begins to rub the face wash into your skin gently, and even as he’s working, you can’t resist.

“Leonnnn,” it’s a bit of a ridiculous sight, you with a thick layer of foaming bubbles all over your face, but your words send something dark swirling in him regardless. “I’m your good girl, right, Leon?”

“Usually,” is all he can manage. You let out something close to a whimper.

“I’ve got a lot to make up for, then,” your hand slips up his thigh, dangerously close to the apex of his legs. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“I know you would, baby,” he ignores the twitch underneath his sweatpants. Pushes your hands back to your lap. He presses a quick kiss to your teasing mouth. “Almost done. I promise.”

“And then we can have some real fun?”

“And then we can go to sleep.”

“You’re boring, Scott.”

“Oh, I’m in trouble now,” he hums at the invocation of his middle name, which surely means he’s done something to piss you off. But the playfulness in your voice is still there. The damp washcloth is cool against your skin as he works at clearing the soap off of you.

“Big trouble.”

“Is that right?” You go to say something, but are muffled by him patting your face dry with a towel. Once the fabric slips back down your face, a dramatic frown is there. Leon thinks he must have cartoon hearts floating over his head as he openly stares at you, fondness practically radiating from him like a heater. Even while teasing him relentlessly, you’re charming and endearing. He falls in love with you all over again every time you look at him. “And how exactly are you going to punish me?”

“I’m sure I can think of somethin—,” you practically screech when he throws you over his shoulder. Luckily for you, it’s a perfect view of Leon’s ass, and you take the opportunity to give it a smack. He practically throws you on the bed before you can manage another grab.

“Take those off, handsy,” he gestures to your pants. It’s an innocent ask, really. He’s just trying to get you in comfy clothes. But you take the opportunity to tease him, of course. You pop open the button and begin to shimmy the jeans down your legs as slow as possible. Leon sighs and looks away. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” once your legs are free, you kneel on the bed and pull him closer to you. “You like me, hot stuff. ‘S why you’re taking care of me so nicely.” He manages a glance down at you as you wrap your arms around his waist. Like is an understatement. He’s not sure if he’s ever come up with the right words to say how he feels about you. Love is the only thing close enough, but it seems so small in comparison to the pull in his heart. Like it’s going to come right out of him just to be closer to you.

You look up at him with big eyes, chin on his chest. His features soften. The look is warmer than the alcohol still swimming in you, and you feel as though you may melt into the sheets.

“God, you’re cute,” he grumbles, low and slightly annoyed, but it’s laced with affection. Tinged pink like your cheeks. His palm finds your jaw. A thumb rubs affection into your cheek. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“I’ve got a few things you can do to me.” It really shouldn’t be as sexy as it is. It’s a corny line; one that he’d say to you to make you groan. But when it’s coming from your lips, while you’re staring up at him with such enthusiasm, it’s aggravatingly adorable. The tequila’s still got a hold of your impulse control, but your movements and lilt of your words are evening out.

“Take off your shirt,” he sighs, and helps you pull it off, alongside your bra. They lay discarded on the floor for tomorrow’s chores. Right now, the only thing on his mind is you, now unbelievably bare in front of him. A little bit of his resolve breaks off. His hands slip greedily over your bare skin and he abandons his intent of dressing you in pajamas. 

Leon lets himself be taken by you for just a moment, pressing his lips to yours finally after so long of avoiding it. You sigh into his mouth, pushing past his lips with your tongue and he groans, deep and low. His knee comes down between your legs as he dwarfs you on the bed, and your hands slip underneath the soft fabric of his shirt to feel his skin. “‘S all you’re getting, baby, you’re still drunk.”

“Not that drunk,” you murmur. Leon lets you push him upwards, shifting around so you can climb onto his lap. He presses the curve of your waist into him gladly. He suddenly wishes he’d forgone a shirt for sleep so he could feel you against him.

Then again, he’s not sure he could keep up his restraint in that case.

Your hands are everywhere. Sliding up his chest, into his hair, pulling him as close to you as possible. And your lips are much the same; on his, then breaking off to trail down his jaw, the length of his neck, then back to his mouth. It’s sickly sweet, dripping with something underneath that has his abdomen burning hot with need.

Then, you pull back suddenly. A yawn escapes your jaws like a tired cat, and he chuckles.

“Sleepy?”

“...No.” Another yawn betrays you, but you press into him again. It’s marketedly lazier than before, like your body has been reminded how exhausted you are. The warmth of Leon’s arms surely didn’t help. He lets you continue, enjoying the slow nature that you’ve now settled on. But he can tell your energy is waning, and it’s a little funny to him. In the same way that a puppy’s attempt to play while it's falling asleep is funny. 

You yawn a third time, pulling back to move away from him as you do. He watches the expression on your face shift from defiant to frustrated. You pout at him like it’s his fault. 

“We’ll finish this tomorrow, yeah?” He presses a laugh of a kiss to your lips, something more chaste coming through this time. You whine and fall into him, limp and tired from your busy night out. And, well, a busy night in.

“You better,” you grumble through a fourth yawn. Leon pulls you under the covers with him, into the home of his chest. It’s become increasingly difficult to fight the drag of your eyelids now. His arms wind around you in a safe embrace. A kiss lands on your forehead. You mumble something close to love you and with what feels like a few seconds, you’re out like a light.

———

Leon wakes before you the next morning. Daylight creeps through the curtains, fanning across your features in a golden halo. His eyes are still half-closed with sleep, and he blinks a few times to fully take in the sight before him. You’re fast asleep now, one hand curled almost protectively around his ribs. He brushes a strand of hair away from your eyes and lets out a quiet hum as your behavior from last night comes back to his memory. A smile pulls at his lips. He wonders if you’d remember how openly flirty you were.

He lets you rest and closes his eyes again after a while, certain he won’t fall back asleep just yet, but enjoying the feeling of you beside him nonetheless. It’s not until a few minutes later when you begin to move slowly next to him as you join him in the waking world. Your hand moves upward against his shoulders, and you curl further into him with a groan.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he keeps his voice low, barely more than a whisper. He’s certain you must have a raging headache, and the way you’ve hidden from the morning sun only confirms his hunch. He kisses your head gently and pulls himself from you, sacrificing his comfort so he can grab some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet. You manage to peek only one eye open when his footsteps return, and are relieved at the sight of your wonderful husband offering you two tablets and a glass of water.

You hope the kiss you press to his lips once he’s joined you in bed again translates well into thank you so much, I love you, my lovely husband because you’re half-certain your voice may make your pounding head explode. Leon’s though, is like sweet honey, soothing any pain that is searing through your skull.

“Finish the water for me, hm?” he encourages, and you don’t argue. It’s a welcome coolness against your dry throat. He takes the empty glass from you once you’ve swallowed the last drop and tucks you underneath the covers alongside him again. The two of you are quiet, enjoying the peace of the morning, and Leon’s the first to initiate a long, deep kiss. It’s warm and sweet, turning a little less chaste as seconds pass. Vague blurs of your slurred flirting return to your mind, and you smile a little against him. His bit of desperation makes sense.

You enjoy his eagerness, but are a little disappointed when he doesn’t climb over you like he normally does to initiate further foreplay. He pulls away to look at you, playing just as innocent as you had last night.

“What…?”

“You were so intent on leading the way last night,” he props himself up next to you with his elbow, eyes dragging deliciously slow over your face. The hand that had been guiding yours to his lips finds its way to your thigh underneath the sheets. “I’ll let you do whatever you were so desperate for now.”

“Leon,” you practically whine in embarrassment. He chuckles, but doesn’t budge. His finger rubs firm circles into your thigh. “C’mon, I was drunk.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he hums, placing a kiss on your nose. “What d’you have to be scared of, baby?” He’s caught onto your anxiety, because of course he has. Even though the tequila’s no longer loosening your tongue, he can read you just as well.

“Nothing,” you mumble. “Just… it’s weird.”

“Weird?”

“I feel… I don’t know,” you huff. “I feel silly. Like I’m playing pretend. You’re so natural at it.”

“Natural at what?” Jesus, he’s really trying to pull you out of your comfort zone.

“Being… this,” you gesture vaguely, and sigh at his raised eyebrows. “Sexy. Attractive.”

“Honey, I hate to break it to you,” he leans in closer, a few stray strands of hair slipping down to hang over you. “But you are incredibly sexy.” You’re unsure how to respond. You know Leon finds you attractive, he married you for Christ’s sake. But putting on an air of dominance is a whole different thing. You’ve taken first steps, initiated sex plenty of times, but this feels a little scarier for some reason. “If it makes you feel better, I play pretend just a little. Because I know what you like, and you being turned on turns me on.” You blush under his open confession, a little embarrassed to be told so directly that you enjoy his dominance during sex. But you can’t lie to yourself; sometimes you want to lead, want to give him some pillow princess treatment.

You tell yourself to take initiative, count to five. And move on three before you can think too hard about it.

Leon tries to hide his surprise when you’re climbing on top of him, mood shifting into something hotter as you pull him into another deep kiss. He sighs into your mouth, slipping his arms around you as you straddle his hips. He groans when you press your clothed heat to his quickly hardening erection beneath his briefs.

“Mmnh— fuck,” he sighs, lifts up just enough to tug his shirt over his head. He scoots backwards and hauls you with him, leaning against the headboard. You take more of his kisses greedily, soaking up any courage you can before you’re heading south, leaving trails of your mouth and a stray bruise behind. Leon watches you with hooded eyes, hands light on your back. An encouragement via his touch, but not firm pressure guiding you, like he usually has. His cock springs from his underwear as you tug them off. He’s hard, pink and throbbing. He nearly slams his head into the wall when you kiss his tip. 

You lick a teasing stripe up his length and meet his eyes, now dark pools of blue hung up on you. Something possesses you at that look, and you hold his gaze steady as you take him fully in your mouth. He breaks eye contact first, unable to help himself from squeezing his eyes shut from the feeling of you around him. 

“Ah, baby, fuck.” It’s practically a whine. You hollow your cheeks and take him deeper, letting yourself gag messily on his cock before you come up for air. Spit trails from your lips to his head, and he lets out another swear when he sees you. Misty eyes from the depth, messy mouth going back down for more before he gets out a single word. “Shit, can’t believe you don’t know how fucking sexy you are, sweetheart. So pretty.”

You hum around him, letting the compliment stroke your ego. His hand threads itself in your hair, but doesn’t move, letting you set the pace. You don’t need his help; you’re damn good at what you’re doing and he hopes you know that. But, just in case, he lets his mouth run.

“You always feel so fucking good,” his grunts are deep, vibrating in his chest. They send a shockwave of pleasure through you, and you feel slick arousal pool in your underwear from it all. “You’re a goddamn angel.” You only pull off him briefly to catch your breath, stroking a little faster at his moans. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and catches your hand to slow you down. “Slow—slow, baby, I’m already getting close.”

“That desperate, huh?” Your comment makes him growl, and he pulls you back to his mouth. The kiss is wet, messy, and a mix of lip bites and tongues. You whine when his hand slips down to your underwear, which has an obscenely wet spot growing by the second.

“So wet already,” he breathes against your cheek, pressing into your clit over the fabric. You whimper. “Fuck, you turned on from sucking me off?”

“Yeah,” your voice is nothing more than a breath of a word, nails digging into his shoulder when he increases the pressure against your clit. “Fuck, Leon.”

“I need you,” he slips your panties to the side and you shudder at his fingers sliding over your bare pussy. You’re pulsing with need, and grind your hips into his hand immediately. “I think you need me, too, huh, baby?”

“Please.”

“Come here, beautiful,” he hauls you onto his lap, his teeth attaching to the pulse point on your neck. It sends goosebumps across your skin, and you let him continue, reaching behind you to guide his length inside of you. The moment he slides home you both moan loudly, finally joined together after all your flirting the night prior. Even if you were drunk, you had still been absurdly horny the second your husband’s biceps crossed your mind. If anything, the tequila had made it worse. But you’re not sure you were ever as desperate as you are now, circling your hips further down on his length. He finally releases your neck with a pleased hum. “You are so fucking hot. My fucking wife.” The encouragement sends a wave of heat through you, and you push his chest down as you begin to bounce slowly. Leon’s hands fall to your hips, the cold sliver of his wedding band imprinting your skin. Every time you have sex, the image of his ring finger pressed against your skin, adorned with a symbol of your commitment, sends a shiver down your spine. It’s unbelievably hot.

Whether it’s from being so early in the morning, or the hangover that’s still aching in the background of all of this, you don’t know. But your thighs begin to burn from the effort of your ride, and you can’t hold back the whimper of frustration. Leon notices immediately, he always does, and slows your movements. His lips find yours again, sweet and reassuring as he takes the lead. He tips you back slowly until you’re below him, and he’s thrusting into you, slow and intimate. The drag of his length inside of you feels too fucking good. You practically cry at the pleasure, and he threads his fingers through yours. His eyes catch on the shine of your wedding ring, and something terribly fond crosses his features. His thrusts become harder, deeper, and he presses your legs further towards you. You might as well be folded in half. But you’re exactly where you want to be.

“Fuck, I love you,” he growls against your cheek, pressing his nose into your face as his thrusts increase in speed. You can feel the knot inside you expanding fast at his own pleasure, too turned on by his affection, the desperation of it all. He feels you begin to tighten around him. “You love it when I fuck you, don’t you? Too sweet to go at me like this, huh?” You nod, frantic and alongside a loud cry of pleasure when he hits that spot just right. Something begins to undo inside of you. “You getting close, honey? I can feel you, so fuckin’ tight.”

“Mhm,” is all you can manage, reaching your hand down to play with your clit. Leon practically slaps it away to do it himself. He presses hard and fast, the perfect pressure and pace that has you mewling underneath him.

“You like it when I fuck you like this? Take control?”

“Yes, fuck, Leon,” you whimper.

“Yeah, my fuckin’ girl,” he grunts. “That’s it.” You feel yourself bursting at the seams, unraveling at every circle around your clit. It takes over your body at last, flooding warmth and pleasure all too much for you to do anything except cry his name. He continues through it, making sure your orgasm reaches every inch of your body. “Good girl, so good for me,” he encourages, and you go limp as the post-orgasm haze surrounds you. He thrusts only a few times after you’re finished, crying out himself with a drawn out whine when he lets go. You dig your nails into his back as he pumps into you, slamming a messy thrust a few times as he rides out his own high with a pant. Even as you’re returning to the earth, the pulses of cum and grind of his hips against yours feel like pure ecstasy. Every twitch inside of you has your breath catching.

Leon collapses on top of you. You welcome the weight, even if you’ll have to push him off after a minute so you can breathe. His shoulders rise and fall fast, and you can feel his heart beat rapidly against your chests. You’re both damp with sweat, skin sticky to each other.

Your husband rolls over after a long moment, but drags you with him in a tight hug. He kisses your forehead a few times, then sighs. His fingertips trail up your back in light scratches.

“How’s your head?”

“You tell me.” The joke catches him off guard and he laughs.

“Five stars, perfect,” he squeezes you against him. “No notes.”

The weather lately had been horrible. Constant rain, but not yet enough to give any weather warnings. You hated the rain when it got bad, and because your favorite neighbor was aware of that fact, he took advantage of it to be around you more lately.

Tonight, thunder had been louder than the last three nights, rain heavier, so heavy it sounded like hail. You busied yourself, hoping to fight off your anxiety as you cooked and cleaned and even tried crafting as a distraction. You considered asking a friend for company, but your unspoken rule was as long as the power was on, you were okay.

The light flickered. You felt an impending sense of doom, a whine leaving your lips. You scrambled to grab your phone, looking through your contacts. Who would be willing to drive to you? Or come at all?! In this weather, no one, is what you thought. Not even your closest neighbor.

Coincidentally, your neighbor, Leon, called you as soon as the power went out. You immediately answered. "Hello?" Leon could hear the uncertainty, and he frowned.

"Hey, sweets," he started, his voice low and soothing. "Power out at yours, too?"

"Mhmm." You hummed. Leon could hear you scrambling to find any way to light up the house, at least the living room.

"I'll be over in a second, yeah? I'll bring candles and some playing cards. How about we play some games? Keep your pretty head occupied." You could hear his own shuffling as you lit a small candle, settling into your couch and curling up.

"That'd be really nice. Thank you so much, Mr. Kennedy." You spoke, voice as sweet as ever, despite all your stresses in the moment.

"I've told you to call me Leon, sweets." He chuckled. "Wanna stay on the phone til I'm outside?" He asked.

"No, no, I can handle myself while I wait. I'll unlock the door for you."

"Good idea. Don't trip and fall."

"I'll see you in a minute." You giggled at his warning, and he mused a sweet goodbye, the phone line beeping as you cut it off and went to unlocked the door, rushing back to the couch to curl up with your fuzzy blankets.

Five minutes later, Leon was rushing through your front door, soaked and shivering from the cold. He looked like a wet dog. You scrambled to meet him halfway after retrieving a hand towel from the kitchen to dry his hair.

"Gosh, if I had known you wouldn't bring an umbrella, I would've told you to stay home." You frowned, reaching up to ruffle his hair with the towel, droplets soaking into the thick fabric.

"I don't mind a little rain if it means I get some company during a storm." He hummed, a soft rumble from his chest as he took the small towel and set it aside. "Go get comfy and light these, yeah?" He said, handing over a small bag of candles and a lighter. "I would've brought my flashlight, but I forgot to change the damn batteries, and I couldn't find the stupid things in the dark." He chuckled apologetically, stepping back.

Leon finished drying himself off by the door, kicking his shoes off and huffing softly. You lit the candles, settling a few in the kitchen, one big one in the bathroom down the hall, and the rest around the living room to keep it as welcoming and warm as possible to avoid anxiety spikes any more.

"Thank you for coming. I hate storms like this." You spoke quietly, like it felt wrong to speak normally in the dark.

"Anything, anytime, sweets. I know you get anxious with the weather, and the power going out only makes it worse." He finally padded over the meet you at the couch, where you'd already been shuffling the cards on the coffee table.

"I know you know, I just want to make sure you know I appreciate it." You said, looking up at him as he shifted closer and leaned forward, legs spread as his elbow rested on his knees.

"So, what do you wanna play? Duo or solo game?" He asked, watching you bring the cards together and tap the bottom on the table, tapping the back of the card pile.

"Mmh, let's play. I don't want you just sitting here while I play solitaire." You snickered, thinking of how he'd done that the first time he brought over his deck. He liked card games, you learned that quickly.

Over half an hour, you two played a few games, your anxiety easing over the time. You beat him quite a few times, and he definitely let you win the last couple of times. Leon was scooted right at your side, knee brushing yours. Neither of you retracted, tensed, or got bashful like you usually would if you brushed too close. Leon found it cute, always sought more of those soft blushes, giggles, and sometimes long, warm glances if you let yourself stare.

Soon, you realized the preserved heat was no longer clinging around you, so Leon could see you shivering as you shuffled the cards, your hands shaking. He reached out to take the cards. "I'll shuffle. Warm your hands up, yeah?" He set the cards down for a moment, reaching behind you to properly bundle you up with the comforter he had retrieved from your bedroom earlier in the game spree. The excess fabric laid lazily over his lap, as he wasn't as cold, given how warm he constantly was. You were often cold, and even when it was approaching freezing temperatures, he'd often be perfectly fine to just swear one extra layer.

"I'm fine, Leon." You shook your head, tugging the blanket closer. "It's just a little chilly." You looked up, watching him shuffle and deal the cards. "Can we stop for a little? My hands are a little too cold.." you murmured.

He didn't hesitate to agree, leaning back on the couch. "Yeah. Here, gimme your hands." He said, holding his palms out.

"I don't need—" Your cheeks flushed faintly under the candlelight.

"Just gimme your hands, sweets." He insisted, fingers curling in a 'come here' motion.

You obliged, offering your hands. He enclosed his palms around your fingers, his warmth sinking into your skin. Your body ran cold with goosebumps but relaxed within a few moments. It was quiet as he pressed your hands together and engulfed them with his own.

"Is that better?" He hummed quietly.

"Mhmm." You nodded.

"Good. C'mere." Leon gestured you closer. You hesitated.

"I'm not that cold. I don't want to make you uncomfortable." You looked away.

"I'm offering my warmth. If you don't want to, it's okay, obviously." He chuckled, simply accepting that he was able to warm your hands at least. You thought, body already warming at the closeness and his low, smooth tone, his hands so rough yet gentle and kind against yours.

Finally, you shifted and pressed into his side, bringing your legs to lay over his lap beneath the blanket. "This okay?" You asked, looking up at him as your cheek pressed to his chest.

"Yeah, sweets. You comfy?" He asked softly, arm wrapping around you after he tugged the blanket back up around you, ensuring it covered your feet mostly, knowing damn well they were ice cold.

"Mhmm." You nodded again. Leon always found it adorable how you'd just nod and hum, pretty eyes blinking up at him, often a faint smile accompanying.

"Good." He mused, one hand slipping over the blanket to tug you closer by the underside of your thigh, pressing your side in closer so your head could rest in the crook of his neck.

Your head turned to press into where his neck and shoulder met, and he let out a slow exhale as he felt your warm breath against him. It took a minute, given the chill settled deep in your body, but as you warmed up, it became easier to fully relax against him, and Leon noticed how your muscles would ease in small bits. It started with your neck fully relaxing into him, your eyes falling shut. Then your thighs eased, which he felt from over the blanket as he kept his large palm pressing gently over under your thigh to keep you close. Finally, your body was fully limp, completely surrendered to his warmth.

You two sat like that for fifteen minutes before you were interrupted by thunder. It had stopped for a while, but when it bellowed from the sky, your ease was interrupted, given how it sounded almost violent.

"Jesus fucking Christ." You hissed, body tense all over again as you rubbed your eyes and groaned. He laughed faintly.

"It's fine. It's just thunder." He tugged you back in, hand rubbing gently over you hip as he turned more to face you, looking down at you.

"I know. I know. It just startles me when it's quiet for so long, and then the Gods decide to make me almost piss myself." You huffed, and Leon had to stifle a laugh at how bluntly you expressed your jumpy reactions.

"Do you want me to go check the power? See if I can get it to come back on any sooner?" He asked. "Sometimes it'll let you flick the switch earlier than the power returns on its own." He explained, pulling back as his hands fell to your hip and thigh, thumbs soothing gently over the blanket.

"Bring this candle with you. It's the only one with a proper holder." You said, handing him a yellow candlestick with a proper holder.

"I'll be back." He leaned in for a moment, an automatic action that he barely stopped in time before his eyes widened slightly, realizing he'd gotten too comfortable in such a domestic setting. He pulled back, accepting the candlestick and shuffling off toward the garage entrance inside, finding his way to the fuse box.

"Any luck?" You called out, listening to the click of switches. You frowned.

"No luck, sweets. Looks like a powerline might be out this time, not just a regular blackout." He called back as he sighed and returned, closing the garage door behind him. "It might not come back on tonight." He explained, settling back into the couch.

"Fuck, seriously? All night?" You frowned deeper, leaning back into the arm of the couch, curling up with your blanket.

"I can stay if you want. I don't have work tomorrow." He said, arm stretching over the back of the couch as his legs spread automatically, a position that almost always made your mind go to places that you felt shameful about.

"I don't want to keep you holed up here just because I'm scared of the dark at my grown age." You sighed. "You brought me candles, I'll be fine. You can go home." You said, shaking your head.

"Do you want company?" He asked, ignoring your attempts at pushing him away.

"Well, yeah, but if it's all night, I'm fine. I don't want you losing sleep—"

"Do you want company?" He asked again, firm this time.

"I-i do," you finally nodded.

"Are you okay if I stay?" He pressed further, gentler.

"But you need—"

"Listen. I'm not asking about me. I'm asking about you. What you need from me." He scooted closer, finding your hands.

"Leon, I don't need to be pampered like this. I'm an adult." Your cheeks flushed at how well he knew your needs in times like this, embarrassingly touched by his insistence to help you.

"And it doesn't matter how old you are, we all need things. I have my own needs you'd probably laugh at." He admitted.

"Yeah? Like what?" You scoffed.

"When I can't sleep, and I'm worried I'll do something stupid after a mission, I have a friend I'll call. If he's out of town, he'll let me sit on the phone until I feel better. He even stayed on the phone til I woke up one time. And, because I sleep alone, and I miss the feeling of being with someone, I have two long body pillows for both sides of me when I need a physical comfort."

"Really?" You hesitated, blinking up at him. "You? The big macho man neighbor that everyone asks for help?"

"Yes. The old handyman of the block needs a little help sometimes, too."

"You're not that old." You snickered.

"You still call me Mr. Kennedy." He raised a brow.

"Because it's polite!" You insisted, laughing quietly.

"You still haven't answered. Do you want me to stay? Or will it make you uncomfortable?" He asked, softer, less firm than before.

"If you really, really don't mind.." You trailed off, looking to the side.

"I don't mind at all. It's better to have some good company. Bonus points that it's such pretty company." He grinned, reaching out to poke at your side.

You giggled, swatting at his hand. "Flattery will get you nowhere." Your cheeks flushed.

"Aw, but you like it." He pressed in, tugging you closer and bringing you with your back pressing to his side as his fingers poked at your side again.

You squealed, giggling and squirming. "Quit it! You're here for company, not torture!" You snorted, reaching up to push his face away so he couldn't see anything. He playfully bit at your hand, making you drop your hand and smack his arm.

"This isn't torture, I can promise you that much."

"Tickling was literally used as a torture method!" You argued, laughing as you looked up at him, head fallen back on his shoulder since he'd stopped the tickling.

"Eh, you're fine, sweets, just c'mere." He snickered, tugging you in closer and helping you lean upright on him, your back pressing to his chest. "You comfortable like this?" He asked, arms around your waist.

"Mmh.. yeah, comfy." You nodded.

Despite the circumstances of the power being out, weather being bad, etc., Leon found ways to keep you from losing your mind. Your body was almost always at ease with him, and he was with you the same. What you were both clueless to was how badly you wanted each other. Leon couldn't live with himself if he'd made a move on such a sweet girl like you, especially since the age difference was less than socially acceptable. You, on the other hand, were just not as accepting of your physical needs.

It didn't help you that Leon was so kind. Not only to you, but you'd heard from the sweet old lady across the street that he'd walk her dog, and when her grandkids came over, if Leon was around, he'd always offer to help out and lighten her load. Apparently, he was close with the older lady, and you found that so sweet. He was so kind, welcoming, and so unbelievably sexy. A body made of hard earned muscle and strength, definitely had a bit of a tummy that you found attractive, and that goddamn stubble of his, and his body hair that you often didn't have a preference toward, but on Leon, it drove you crazy. You wouldn't dare make a move, but right now, with his arms around you, feeling a little more than just friendly as he had one hand resting just barely above your waistband, your shirt having been worked up when he was tickling you, so you felt his rough palm against your lower belly.

Leon's breathing remained steady, but he could feel yours becoming faster, uneven as his hand rested there. He'd done it on purpose, just to try it out, and he felt you shift your hips closer to him and his grasp. You hoped he hadn't noticed, but you knew he did when his fingers tensed and splayed more firmly over your exposed belly.

"Still comfy?" He asked, voice sounding raspier than before. You swallowed harshly, nodding.

"Mhmm. Still comfy." You confirmed, quiet and slightly embarrassed.

"You sure? You're squirmin' a little, and you don't sound too comfy." He prodded, knowing damn well what the problem might be.

"No, no, 'm comfy." You insisted, breath hitching as he leaned his head down, a chuckle rumbling low in his chest.

"You don't mind it, do you?" He asked, emphasizing his question with a soft press of his palm into your hip.

You shook your head, curling up closer and turning your head to bury it in his arm. "I.. I don't. I don't mind." You admitted quietly. God, you were so cute, and you weren't even aware of it. Leon was literally fighting every sane, moral part of him right now because all he wanted to do was lean in, kiss your neck, curl his arm around your shoulders and let his other hand roam below the sweats that were already dangerously close to showing off your panties.

"Don't hide from me. I like lookin' at you." He murmured, lifting a hand to gently pull your head upward, letting you look up at him, pretty doe eyes all wide and beautiful.

"You don't have to be all sweet like this just because I'm anxious." You looked away again, but didn't hide.

"I'm not being sweet because you're anxious. I'm being sweet because I think you're beautiful and I'm taking advantage of a nice, romantic moment to tell you how pretty you are. Especially under candlelight." He explained, his tone steady and certain.

"You're just saying that 'cause we're cuddling."

"Oh, is this cuddling? I thought I was just warming you up." He snickered. "I don't mind a little cuddling. Hell, being close to you at all is quite a treat." He said, his head craned lower to have his voice right next to your ear, now dropped to a whisper.

"Leon.." you whined, face turned away quickly as he made you blush deeper. The arm over your shoulder lifted higher, his arm curling at the elbow so he could keep your face from turning away any more.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, genuinely.

You hesitated. The immediate answer was no, God no, but you couldn't just say that. So you shook your head. He clicked his tongue.

"I'm afraid I'll need words, sweets. You know what this is leading to. And I need to know that you want it." He said, shifting to pull you into his lap, your back still facing him.

You nodded. "I.. I do. I do want this. I don't want you to stop." You leaned back, expressing your consent physically in how your body melted and fit perfectly against his.

"Good. Now that we're on the same page.." he trailed off, leaning down to kiss at your neck. He felt the goosebumps rise and prickle your skin. "You wanna tell me how long you've had a thing for me? Or should I talk first?" He mused, lips grazing your earlobe. You poked at his arm, and he chuckled. He knew it meant the second option he gave. He wanted so badly to hear you, but he wouldn't push yet. "That first time you brought over your muffins as a thank you gift to me for helping you move your bed and dresser into the house. You've been the cutest, most tempting thing ever since." He spoke, breath grazing your skin.

There was a pause as he kissed your neck, pulling your hair aside before both hands dropped, splayed over your hips as his thumbs hooked under your waistband. Your breath hitched, hips twitching with self restraint.

"And I love seeing you in your garden when it's warm. You look so fucking gorgeous in those pretty yellow shorts and your tight shirts, almost always without a bra. You think I don't notice?" He groaned at the memories of seeing you across the fence line in the backyard of your house. It started accidental, Leon stumbling across the sight on the first month of warm weather you had when you were still new to the neighborhood. He didn't mean to look, but when he saw you kneeling to tend to your herbs, checking for any damage or growth, he was stuck on you like glue. Almost memorized your gardening days.

"Leon.." you whined once more, head lifting to look up at him. "Aren't you embarrassed?"

"No, not really. Ashamed? Maybe. It feels so wrong, but I think you're too damn pretty not to at least make a move. And if I'm reading this right, you're not exactly denying the attention, are you?" He mused, hands slipping lower into your sweats before you automatically lifted your hips, allowing him to push your sweats down to your mid-thigh, leaving your pink cotton panties on display for him. "Why don't you start talkin', sweets? Don't you think it's only fair?" He teased, hands spreading your thighs wider.

You shivered, goosebumps prickling your skin once more, body trembling faintly from the cold and nerves. "I-its embarrassing." You whined again, head turning away as you wrapped an arm around his bicep, pulling it closer so you could hide your face.

"What, you need me to help with your nerves?" He feigned disappointment. "Poor girl, so embarrassed just because she's a little needy. You want me to help with that?" He finally brought his right hand down, palming your core through your panties, two fingers pressing at the warmth of your entrance through the thick gusset. You yelped, hips jolting as your legs closed around his hand.

"S-sorry, I just... don't usually t-touch myself. Let alone having someone else do it.." you admitted, clinging tighter to his arm.

"Mmh, she's sensitive, huh? Don't worry, that just makes it better." He kissed at your neck again, this time beginning to suckle light hickeys into the expanse of skin.

You let out a soft moan, lips parting as your hips bucked when his thumb pressed to your clit, causing a tiny gush of arousal to begin pooling in your panties. "Fuck," you whined, watching him spread your thighs wider.

"Kick your pants off, would you? They keep sliding back up." He said, his free hand pushing the band back down. You obeyed, shuffling your way out of the loose sweatpants. "There we go. So good, aren't you? You're being so good for me, I think you've already earned yourself a reward."

Leon hooked two fingers under the gusset, pushing it aside to get a view of your fat, slickening pussy. Your legs tried to close again, but he swatted your newly exposed core, making you squeak. "Wha—why did you do that?" You pouted, looking up at him with a frown. He soothed the faint, barely there sting with a slow rub of his palm over it.

"Keep your legs open. I wanna see you all the way." He demanded, though it didn't feel threatening or mean.

You shifted around, trying to get yourself comfortable to where you'd be able to listen to his demands. He just laughed, kissing at your cheek. You looked up at him, and he took the chance to capture your lips with his, deep and slow.

He used your distraction to slip two fingers between your folds, spreading them wide as he teased your entrance with a third finger in the middle. You whimpered, and he deepened the kiss, finally adding tongue as he inserted a finger. You choked on a moan, and he let you pull away to breathe, panting and huffing as you grabbed at his wrist and looked down, watching him slowly fuck his finger back and forth. The sight of your slick coating his finger was humiliating. You turned away, but your body kept bucking for more, and he gave.

He pressed in another finger, feeling your back arch and your body fight the need to melt into the pleasure. "Just breathe, baby. You can take it." He purred, curling his fingers and letting his thumb come down to circle your clit. You yelped, thighs closing around his hand again. "Open. Don't be shy, sweets."

"'S s-so good," you gasped, thighs trembling around his hand. Just when you were getting into it, melting and humping against his hand, he stopped. "Wh—why?!" You looked up at him, pouty and already so overwhelmed.

"Open your legs. I already told you." He said firmly. You craned your head to bury into his neck, pushing yourself to listen to his repeated demand. Once your legs were open, he started slow again. "Hold them open."

"But—"

"Just hold them open. You can close them around my head all you want once I've got you undone like this first." He said, watching your cheeks flush as you listened, pulling your legs upward, holding them to your chest with your arms linked under your knees, spread wide for his viewing pleasure.

Leon sped up, finding that same eager, damn near mind-numbing pace that he had before he stopped. Your body turned to mush in his lap, and he had to hold you up to keep you from slipping too close to the edge of the couch. His free hand tugged you back to him, your head tucker just beneath his chin, and in order to keep you still and upright with nowhere to hide, his arm hooked under your chin in a mock head lock. You never would've thought you'd be so turned on by a wrestling move. Your body jolted, pleasure doubling just because of the threat that if he wanted to, he could put pressure and constrict your airway, leaving you helpless and mushy at his mercy. You cried out, eyes rolling back.

"Mmh, what's wrong, sweets? You like it? Poor thing, so overwhelmed, and yet you can't get enough." He cooed, a deep chuckle leaving his throat.

"Fuck—" You heaved, gasping as your nails dug into your own thighs, fighting desperately not to close. "Leon, please, j-just—ah!—oh, my god!" Your head fell back, back arching almost violently off of his chest as he applied a sharp, mean pressure to your clit, simultaneous with the stimulation of your g-spot, ensuring you were at the height of what he could offer in this position.

"It's okay, just let it happen. You wanna cum, don't you? Take it, take it, and be as greedy as your pretty pussy wants." He groaned, feeling your core squeeze tighter around his fingers. At the last minute, he slipped a third finger into you, and the burn of the stretch only added to your arousal.

"Leon! Fuck—fuckfuckfuck!" You sobbed. Your orgasm crashed into you quickly, vision bleary and skin hot to the touch. Leon fucked you through it, feeling your pussy gush and pulse around his fingers. You cried, thighs trembling as they finally closed again, your hands flying to grab onto his arms, head tilting down to bite at his bicep. Small, broken moans and cries left you as you came down, fully undone and spent in his arms.

Once your teeth stopped biting down, he pulled his arms away, fingers leaving you empty and cold. You shook. Part of you expected to be left now that he'd gotten a taste, but you were beyond pleased when he turned you around in his lap, cleaning his fingers with his tongue before he met you in a slow, softer kiss, lips fitting together nicely despite the quiver in yours.

"You did so good, baby. You took it so well. Now," he kissed down your jaw, stopping at your ear. "I wanna get a proper feel of you. Think I can do that, sweets?" He asked sweetly, so effortlessly convincing with his gravely voice that he made sound so sugary sweet when he'd call you cute little pet names, and just like that, your pussy was already fucking throbbing again, awaiting his touch. You nodded.

"Please," you breathed. "I need it. Need you, Leon." You shifted, thighs still shaky as you straddled his lap properly, pressing your already satisfied and reawakened cunt against his hard-on. It was like a switch had been turned back on in a matter of seconds.

"Yeah? You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" He purred, his hips pressing upward into yours with a low groan. "Fuck, such a pretty thing." He leaned his head forward to dip lower at your collarbone that he revealed with a tug against your t-shirt. His hands slipped under your shirt, sliding all the way up to gently cup your breasts, eliciting a low sound of satisfaction. He felt the lace of the fabric, his hands squeezing gently around your breasts.

"You're wearing lace?" He huffed, kissing back up to your neck as he nipped lightly. "Fuck, I gotta see, can I see it, sweets?" He asked, pecking at your lips eagerly.

"Ah.. yeah, 'course.." You huffed lightly, leaning back with a giggle as he followed, trying to follow your lips and keep you from pulling away. The only thing that stopped him was you lifting your shirt over your head, fully revealing your pink lacey bra that had a tiny bow at the bottom of the valley between your breasts. It matched your panties that had a similar bow at the center of the waistband. Leon was stuck like a deer in headlights. He couldn't figure out where to look, where to touch.

"Oh, God is good." He breathed, half jokingly, as he grabbed you by the waist and laid you on the couch, climbing on top as he went straight to find your breasts with his mouth, his hands tugging gently on the fabric to fully expose the body beneath. He didn't hesitate to take a nipple into his mouth, listening to you squeak and feeling you squirm. He pressed between your thighs, his hands dropping to undo his belt and push his jeans down, letting you get a better feel of his cock through the thin layer of fabric.

"Oh," you breathed, the sound melting into a low moan. "Leon, please." Your hips bucked up, pressing into him, making sure he felt the warmth against him.

"Relax. Just gimme.. gimme a second." He laughed quietly against your chest, kissing his way to your other breast as he pushed your legs wider and ground against you, eliciting a soft whimper as his tip notched against your puffy clit.

"Leon!" You whined, growing more insistent as you reached out to grab lightly at his shoulders, pulling him in closer.

"God, you're so needy." He looked up at you, finally pulling away. He lifted his hips and pushed his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, landing to lay against your folds. "You want it bad, don't you? You wanna tell me how bad?" He encouraged, a nearly perverted grin on his face as he grabbed his cock, sliding the tip back and forth along your wetness before he found himself smacking his tip against your clit, watching you jolt with each one.

"F-fuck!" You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as your head lifted to look down, thighs trying to close around him. He held one thigh open, the other stopped by his body in the way. "Please, I want it s-so bad. I've waited so long, fuckin' dreamt of it." You admitted, the dirty words slipping out much easier under the promise of him finally giving in.

"Mmh, now I feel a lot less perverse. You had dreams about this? Me fucking you into your couch til you're begging?" He smacked the tip of his cock against your entrance, and he felt you clench around nothing. You nodded rapidly, thighs trembling.

"Yes, fuck, yes. I really.. really need you." You looked up at him, eyes still bleary as you panted lightly from your breath holding periodically.

"God, you're so cute. So fucking gorgeous when you beg and whine." He breathed, finally surrendering as his cock slipped in with no warning, sliding in much easier thanks to his added arousal and prep. You whimpered, lips quivering as you practically shrank, hands dropping and clutching onto the couch cushion beneath you.

Leon groaned, eyes squeezing shut as his nose scrunched with restraint. He tried desperately not to go crazy immediately, trying to remember that he had no clue whether you were experienced like this or not. He knew you weren't a virgin, but the specifics were unknown to him. Slowly, he pulled his hips back, eyelids fluttering with an eye roll as his head lulled back. You melted, walls fluttering around him. He exhaled heavily, a moan lingering in his throat as he pushed back in, finally beginning to actually thrust.

"Fuck—please, f-faster," you whined, thighs trying to wrap around his waist. He grabbed your thighs, pushing them open and up to where your knees pressed up toward your chest, practically folded like a pretzel. You choked on a moan as he pushed deeper, finding spots you weren't even aware of inside of you.

"This better? You like—mmngh—you like getting fucked by your neighbor in the middle of the night? Bet you've fucked yourself with me in mind with the way you're reacting."

Shameless, mind clouded with pleasure, you nodded desperately, lips parted with heavy pants and loud moans leaving you as his thrusts sped up and got meaner, his short nails digging into the skin of your thighs, leaving blunt cresent shaped marks.

Leon found it harder to taunt and talk dirty, his own grunts and moans making it complicated to form proper sentences without interruptions. He resorted to occasional praise, filling in the silence with sweet words between grunts, telling you how perfect you are, how good you feel, how badly he wants to fuck you til neither of you can move or speak. Of course, that would have to wait, and he was more than satisfied for the time being.

You cried, eyes rolling back as your hands lifted to pull him down, begging incoherently for him to hold onto you and not stop because if he stopped, you would most definitely start crying for real purely out of frustration. His body stayed low to yours, hips moving at a pace as fast as he could, tip kissing your cervix with every deep, mean thrust. You whined, hips rolling desperately for a little more. His head dipped, taking your nipple into his mouth as he muttered something you couldn't make out.

Since his hands were busy, you took it upon yourself to reach between your bodies, trembling hand finding your clit, a cry pulled from your throat as you rubbed your clit in quick, firm back and forth motions. Leon groaned, suckling harshly around the hardened nub, biting lightly before you yelped, and he switched sides. He felt himself approaching his own climax, but he refused to finish first. He doubled his efforts, hissing with restraint.

"Fuck, come on, sweets, give it to me. 'M not gonna last much longer in your pretty pussy," his eyes rolled back as he panted against your breasts, his hips faltering momentarily before he snapped back into it.

Without much more warning, only a squeal and a mewl, your walls gushed around him, and he was beyond satisfied to see a ring of white had formed around the base of his cock, a lewd sight that was only made more lewd as he bottomed out roughly, a groan melting into a gasp and a moan that he tried desperately not to let sound like a whimper or a whine. His cum spilled into you, and you gave a small squeak at the sensation, eyes squeezing shut as he ground his hips lazily, tip pressing firm to your cervix.

Once you both came down, Leon pushed himself upward, still above you as he pulled out carefully, a shudder falling from both of you. He sat back on his haunches, sighing as he helped your thighs ease back down, massaging your hips as you whined from the discomfort of the position he'd had you in now leaving you with a small ache that you already felt would be worse by morning. Leon watched, shameless, as his load spilled out of you, your hole twitching at the sensation. You finally moved to close your legs, embarrassed by his heated gaze.

He didn't stop you this time, just pulled you into his grasp, kissing the crook of your neck and all the way up to your lips. "You're an absolute dream." He murmured softly, and you gave a small, bashful giggle as you melted into him, sniffling faintly as you shook in his hold.

"Mmh, 's cold." You complained. He chuckled, rising to stand up as he held you close, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"Why don't we go get you wiped down and we can just lay down? I can bring the candles to your room so it's not too dark." He suggested, already moving toward the bathroom, following the dim candlelight before you were gently placed on the counter. He reached for a clean rag, getting it wet to carefully wipe down the mess between your thighs before he did himself. Once cleaned up, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted, bringing you to the bedroom. "Stay here, just for a second." He muttered, kissing your forehead before he left the room.

Only a minute or two later, he returned with one candle, just for the bedside table, and the comforter. He placed the candle down and crawled into bed with you, tucking the comforter around you as snug as possible.

"Leon?" You muttered quietly, turning to face him. "You'll stay for breakfast, right?"

"Why wouldn't I? I didn't come here with this in mind, but even if it hadn't happened, I was still planning on at least ordering breakfast if the power was still out." He leaned in to kiss your lips, letting you melt into him to ease your doubts.

"Thank you." You whispered quietly, deepening the kiss and pressing your bare chest to his.

"Hey, hey, don't start another round you can't finish, sweets." He chuckled, gently pulling away with a smirk.

"Who said I couldn't finish it?" You grinned, curling closer to him.

Spoiler alert—there was multiple rounds, and the power wasn't back in the morning.