The Witch of hopelessness

dunk has you on your back—cushioned by all of his clothes and blankets along with yours—with your knees hooked over the bend of his elbows on either side of you. his body completely blanks yours, not an inch of sweat-slicked skin left untouched by him, and his hips rolling and grinding into yours. the dark hairs that frame the cock that's hardly even leaving your slick, oversensitive cunt are creating an addictive friction against your swollen, twitching clit. his hips don't even lift up, they just flex back and forth, dragging against your puffy centre and his thick cock keeping you nice and full as he rocks into you.

he's made you cum twice already like this. with his face pressed into your hair, breathing the scent of you in with every gasp and pant, and his hands under your shoulders to press you against him tighter. you have your arms wrapped around his neck. sometimes you thread your fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp the way you know drives him crazy, but you mostly lazily hold onto him, trying with all your might to press him closer as well. he's so close, pressed so tightly to you that you don't even have to lift your head to rest the bridge of your nose against his collarbone. his big, hairy thighs shift under the swell of your hips with every rolling thrust, cradling your hips that lie elevated for him by the blankets he placed you on.

the sounds you both make are as soft as the rain around you. tender sighs that whisper across his skin, and sweet hums that roll down each dip and divot of his back. he noses his way further into your hair, presses long kisses to the sensitive skin above your ear and whines your name as if he can't find you.

the slow, steady grind of his hips kindly stokes the fire within you. there's no building tension that demands to be seen to, only the feeling of your sweat-slicked bodies moving against one another in the humid rain under a great tree keeping you safe.

you can hardly keep your eyes open at the feeling of his thick cock—consistently, steadily, with a breathtaking precision—hitting the entrance of your womb, still managing to stretch you out no matter how many times he takes you. there's no burn, only a fullness that has your head spinning from how little he's pulling out before shoving himself back in again. despite the slow and steady pace, he manages to knock the breath out of you in a way that's had your eyes rolled back since he made that first delicious thrust into you.

the fire he's been feeding and been paying close attention to has slowly started to build. the warmth growing as if you had started to simmer, getting close to a boil, and he can feel it in the way your hips start to rock into his from where he has you pressed into the pile of blankets that have become damp from how long he's had you like this, and how many times he's made you cum. you let out a long and satisfied hum when you feel the boil, feel the sweat on your forehead and brow run down into your hairline, and you mouth at the flushed and freckled skin of his neck with your teeth. dunk whines, m'darlin', and keeps his pace the same even though you've started to clench around him like a vice.

he presses you closer, his lips at your ear making you shiver when you feel him pant and gasp. you're both usually so loud when he's making you feel good, debauched sounds filling the forest or the shitty room of an inn while chasing your highs, but right now, you're addicted to the delirious, quiet sounds that escape you both without permission. it's not often he gets to have you like this, soft and relaxed with hours of you, you, you. your soft skin pressed to his as he lies on top of you, the taste of you on his tongue as he swipes at the skin behind your ear, the honey-sweet sounds you make when you start to tremble—he wants all of you, all the time.

you clutch him tighter and angle your head up to him blindly with a low, near-feverish moan in the vague shape of his name, and he turns to meet you. kiss-bitten lips slot against one another with moans, hums, and sighs spilling from the cracks the longer the boil goes on for. the kiss is sloppy and wet, just like everything else about you both right now. his tongue in your mouth, pressing in and making a mess, making your combined spit dribble out of the corner of your mouth, much like his cock was doing the same with your cunt and mixed releases.

you can feel the sweat from him mix with yours on your face, and you bring a hand up to his face. you cup his cheek, then run your fingers through the wet hair on his forehead to pull it out of the way, then you trace his face down to his jaw. you press your fingers into one cheek and cup his jaw with your thumb on the other side, holding him firmly against your mouth as that boil starts to grow hotter.

those quiet, content noises have grown into low moans muffled by your smacking lips and tangled tongues. dunk knows to keep the pace steady, knows how wrecked you'll be afterwards, and doesn't change a thing despite how you're now rocking back and forth with him.

just like the build-up, your release is drawn out. you want it so bad, you were clenching so hard. yet when it hits, your whole body—even your poor cunt—goes completely lax for a whole second before you're tensing and clenching so hard that it punches a half-sob, half-moan out of you. you're shaking so hard that a low, drawn-out groan starts, shaking along with you.

you've got dunk by the throat now, fingers squeezing and releasing the sides of his neck in a way that makes him lightheaded from the rush of blood that keeps coming in waves. you don't even realise you're doing it, and he lets out a broken, high-pitched moan right after you cum. a whine is pressed into the side of your face as your cunt milks him for all that he has, and his thighs shake at the feeling of you twitching as you come down.

you move your hand from his throat eventually, threading your fingers through his hair as you calm down from shaking to a slight tremble. you've got your face turned slightly to press against his that's turned to you on the bundle of clothing he made as a pillow for you, both of you slowly and sweetly nuzzling into one another like cats.

the summer sun still shines through the clouds, it's still humid, it hasn't stopped raining, and you both can't stop smiling.

couldn't stop thinking about this fic by @captainfern 😵‍💫