‎‧₊˚✧[𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐫𝐞]✧˚₊‧

it really shows how little you know about his character.

"Z-Zayniiiee!" You whine.

You're a drooling, fucked out mess. Face down, ass up with Zayne's fingers stuffed deep inside your abused little cunt.

"Pleeaase!" Your voice is muffled by how much it's smushed into the pillow.

He doesn't talk. He hasn't done since he dragged you into the bedroom, face stern, and simply told you "On your knees, face down into the bed" while he methodically rolled the sleeves of his shirt up his arms.

Did it have anything to do with the filthy gifs and videos of porn you'd been sending him all day as you scrolled social media? Who's to say.

"I can't-I can't take it anymore!" You sob.

He hasn't let you come, of course he hasn't, he barely gave you any prep before pushing two fingers inside you and immediately seeking out your g-spot.

His silence frustrates you. The only noise other than your incessant whines and whimpers is the horrifically loud squelching of your pussy.

And the constant jangle of his metal watch as he relentlessly fucks you with his fingers.

Clink, clink. Clink, clink.

Just like his fingers, the sound doesn't stop. The watch bounces against his wrist with each thrust into your cunt. And what you hate the most is that you can't see, you can only hear. You are left trying to imagine the view of his arm; the veins that run down the length of it as they mix with his scars, leading to the gleam of his watch that rattles back and forth, back and forth.

Clink, clink. Clink, clink.

"I promise I won't do it again!" You lie. "I'll be - oh fuck - I'll be good, I swear!"

His fingers push down, pressing harder against your g-spot, and the quickening sound of rattling metal is the only response you get.

Clink, clink, clink, clink.

His free arm reaches across to secure your waist, holding your hip to his front. And, oh, now he's got leverage.

His fingers fuck into your cunt with vigour. The wet sounds are obscene.

"Gonna - ngh - gonna come." You groan into the pillow. "Oh fuck, oh fuck."

Clink, clin-

Zayne rips his fingers from your drenched hole, strings of your cum pulling with them to leave a sticky, dripping mess.

"No." He says plainly. "Be a good girl and wait."

“First I will do a visual examination to check that all seems well on the surface. Then,” His voice deepens. “Then I will conduct an internal examination to check the sensitivity and strength of your vaginal walls.” Your heart starts beating wildly in your chest.  “I will do this by making you orgasm on my fingers.”  He looks you dead in the eye through hooded lids. “Once by clitoral stimulation alone, and then a second time using the addition of the stimulation of your g-spot.” “Oh.” You squeak out. “Now,” He says, shuffling forward on the stool slightly. “Are you ready to begin?” You nod, finding yourself unable to speak. You peer down between your thighs as Zayne reaches out with his hand and you feel him gently stroke your pussy with the back of his forefinger, caressing it almost. You make a little noise when he runs over the bump of your clit. “Responsive.” He mutters to himself before doing it again. He runs his fingers through your folds, collecting the juices at your hole before inspecting the wetness on his gloves. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together before pulling them apart, watching how your cum forms a delightful web between the two digits. “Mm,” Zayne hums. “You already seem to be producing a healthy amount of lubrication.”

My daddy issues made me do it 🫡 I ‘m a sucker for older men.

Caleb: 🤬

You're reading off the next flash card of medical terms, waiting for him to define it. You don't understand much of what it all means, but you try to help anyways. When several seconds pass you look over at him from under the card.

He's crawling toward you, eyes half lidded with lust, licking his lips. "Let's take a break," he's suggesting as he gets to your legs, running hands up them, making you shiver.

"We just took one," you try to remain stalwart in the face of this onslaught.

"A quick one, then."

His hands are sliding up, up, up. His fingers twist into the very edge of your shorts.

"Zayne!" you're saying, almost like a warning, but he's already beginning to nuzzle into you. You're hearts beating in the way that only he can do. Your body is coming alive. You know he sees how paper thin your resolve is.

"Let's not stop studying, then. Every right answer and I get to explore," his hand trails up your shorts, fingers alighting at the grooves where your hips and legs meet.

Before long he's straddling your legs on his shoulders, barechested and cheeks flushed. Your hold on the flash cards in tenuous as you read out the next word:

"Ly-ahhh-lysogenic."

He stills, his cock throbbing inside you. You're agreement was he can only keep going if he gets the word right.