Gabs

Hotel rooms always feel temporary, like they're built for moments that don't plan on staying long, and you move through this one like you've already decided it's yours. You're in front of the mirror, dress on, one strap adjusted and then adjusted again, hair falling exactly the way people pretend happens by accident. I'm leaning against the dresser, pretending I'm not watching, which is stupid because you know I am.

“We’re gonna miss the car,” I say, not moving.

You glance at me through the mirror. “You’re still standing there.”

“Exactly.”

You roll your eyes, but there's a smile in it – small and private – like you've heard this version of me a hundred times and keep me anyway. I step closer, not enough to crowd you, just enough that you feel me behind you, my hand landing on your waist like I’m steadying you when really I'm just checking if you'll let me.

“You always take forever,” I add, not looking at you through the mirror anymore but more looking at your side profile. God, I’m so fucked.

“You always watch,” you say back, smoother, and that one lands.

I catch your eyes in the mirror then and hold them longer than I should. There's something unreal about seeing you like this – polished, calm, already halfway out the door – knowing that in an hour there’ll be photos of you looking untouched, effortless, like nobody's hands were ever on you. My thumb drifts along your side, slow enough to be intentional, and you don't stop me. You never really do.

“Theyre gonna eat you alive tonight,” I say.

You shrug. “They always do.”

It's not arrogance. That's the thing. It's just a fact, and it's why it gets under my skin.

You move to sit along the edge of the bed to put your heels on, and before you can reach for them, I'm already there, crouching, taking one from your hand like it's mine to deal with. I buckle the strap slowly, fingers lingering at your ankle, tracing bone and warmth and everything I shouldn't be thinking about when we're supposed to be leaving.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” you say.

“Doing what?”

You tilt your head, unimpressed. “Being annoying.”

“It's foreplay.” I grin and kiss just above the strap, quick, like a joke, and you suck in a breath before you can stop it. That's all I need. I stand, hands sliding up your calves before I pull away, and you look up at me like you're deciding whether to call me out or let it go.

“Youre impossible,” you land on.

“You like me like this.”

You don't deny it. You just stand and smooth out your dress, composed again, untouchable again, like I didn't knock you off balance for half a second.

I toss a pair of lace panties I bought for you while back on the bed as I pass you, heading towards the door. “Wear that.”

You glance down at it, then back at me. “Youre unbelievable.” But you slip the lace material on up your legs, and under your dress, like you were waiting for it anyway.

“You say that every time,” I reply, grabbing my jacket. “And you still listen.”

You catch yourself in the mirror once more – just a second too long – that look flickering across your face, the one nobody ever gets to photograph. I step in, lift your chin with one finger, and kiss you before you can disappear back into it, slow enough to remind you I'm here, firm enough to wipe the look clean off.

When I pull back, you laugh under your breath, quiet, real. “Behave,” you tell me.

I open the door for you anyway, watching you walk past like you don't know exactly what you do to a room just by existing, like you're not about to be everyone's idea of perfect for the night. I follow closely, always in your space, always a little too aware of the fact that people see an angel when they look at you – and I'm the only one who knows better.

And I'm all about it.

I follow you into the elevator and you give me a look, smiling, a small “What?” leaving your lips as your head tilts.

You probably already know what I'm thinking – and it is me wondering how I even got you in the first place – but you like to hear my bullshit answer anyway. My innocent face is half-assed so you see right through it.

“Nothing,” I say, but keep eyeing you up shamelessly.

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling, and I know it's because you are enjoying this as much as I am – the two of us alone in an elevator going down, you knowing exactly what you look like in this dress, me knowing exactly what I'm thinking about.

Once the elevator hits the floor and dings, you're already walking out into the lobby. I follow close behind you, hand on the small of your back like it's normal. To be fair, it is. When we reach the doors, I watch as you cross your arms to hold in some heat as we get to the driver who's taking us to the restaurant. I listen as you thank him quietly as he opens the door and you scoot in.

I'm right behind you, sliding into the seat next to you in the limo and reaching for the bottle of champagne and two flutes sitting next to it like it's another part of this routine. I pour your glass first, then mine, and the driver closes the door behind us.

You take a sip from your flute, and I don't miss the way your eyes shut for a second like you're trying to savor it. You like the nice stuff, but you'd never admit it. It's one of the things I hate that I love about you.

“You keep staring at me, Tucker.” You smile, your hand coming up to cup my face for a second as you take another drink from your glass.

I'm caught, but I'm not ashamed. It's not like I was trying to hide it anyway.

I lean forward, lips brushing the inside of your wrist, where your pulse is racing. “Your fault for wearing that dress.” I mean, you can't blame me. Black with a hint of lace? It's like every guy's wet dream.

I take you by the waist, pulling you half into my lap as my mouth trails up your arm, leaving lingering, hot kisses over your bicep, your shoulder, your neck.

“Youre gonna get me worked up before we even get to the restaurant.” I smile against your skin at your words because I know you secretly love it.

But instead, you say, “I hate you.” with the biggest grin on your face because you know I don't care anyway. “God, I really like you.” You whisper, kissing the side of my face, and the smell of champagne is strong on your tongue.

I laugh into your neck and slide my hands under the hem of your dress, fingers spreading across the tops of your thighs. “You always say that when you're drunk.” I move higher, grip getting tighter, and you let out the tiniest gasp, fingers digging into my shoulders. “I should buy you drinks more often, then.”

You're about to say something else when the car comes to a stop, and everything outside of these windows comes rushing back – where we are, what we're doing, the fact that we are not alone. You start to shift out of my lap, hands reaching to adjust yourself, but I hold you down.

“No.”

Your eyes find mine. “Tucker.”

I've always liked how my name sounds coming from you, no matter what we're actually doing.

“You look perfect, angel.”

You smile and roll your eyes even though you're not actually annoyed. I'd like to think I could tell the difference by now. You're having fun with me. More fun than you've had with anyone else, you told me once.

“Okay.” you lean in and press a quick kiss to my lips. “We gotta go inside.”

I watch your lips move as you talk, and for a half-second I'm tempted to pull you back in and ignore whatever dinner we're supposed to be going to. It's probably the alcohol in my veins.

Your eyes are bright and beautiful, and my hands grip your thighs one last time before they slide away, falling into my lap. “Come on, baby.”

I get out first, holding out my hand to help you out after me. You try to stand and the first step is off balance, probably due to the height of your heels. You stumble, just a little, and my arms right there, steadying you until you're upright again.

It feels like some kind of performance – your hand in the bend of my elbow as we make our way to the doors, my hand on your waist like I want the world to see me touching you, the flash of cameras as it happens.

“You look so good,” You whisper into my ear as we enter the quiet of the restaurant, and the mere sound of your voice sends chills down my spine.

I'm about to respond but then we reach the table and our friends are there, and your arm is instantly out of my grip as you're hugging Devon and kissing Jake on the cheek and my hand feels empty.

“Took you long enough.” Devon grins as she stands to hug you, and Jake gives me a nod while I pull one of the empty chairs out for you. I try not to watch the long expanse of your legs as you sit.

You talk and laugh with them effortlessly, and I sit back, half-listening as Jake brings up some girl he met the other night. It's something he's started doing more in the last few months – bragging about the hook-ups he's had – and you always pretend it doesn't annoy you. I'm too sober and too selfish right now to pretend.

I reach for the beer the waiter just set in front of me, taking a long swig to give my hands something else to do.

Jake turns to me. “How ‘bout you, man?”

“How ‘bout me what?”

I don't even try to sound interested, but he doesn't take the hint as usual.

“Did you hook up with anyone last night?”

I have a smart ass reply on the tip of my tongue when your eyes flick over to me, half a second too fast and then away again. I'm reminded of the hickeys on your neck, the ones covered by that expensive foundation you're wearing, and the empty spot in my bed left by you this morning.

You cut me off before I even start speaking. “He fucked me. Duh.” I hate how naturally you say it, it doesn't even turn awkward or weird, it's just… normal. Your bluntness is normal. “You think he'd go out and cheat on me? Holy shit.” You look over at me and I can see the idea of me doing that crosses your mind. “I’d like… end you.” And obviously you lighten the end up by pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.

Your kiss feels like a warning and a promise all in one. Neither is lost on me.

Jake laughs, but I don't miss the slight look he exchanges with Devon, who's pretending to scroll through something on her phone.

“Damn, you're already a mess and we haven't even ordered yet.”

You scoff and flip him off with the hand holding your tequila soda. “Please, like you've ever known me sober at dinner.”

We order food and another round of drinks, and everyone starts drinking fast. The champagne in the limo has you loose, the tequila with dinner has you a little louder, a little more uninhibited, which only makes me laugh more often.

Your knee is pressed against mine under the table, and my hand keeps finding its way back to your thigh, a little higher than usual every time.

You're in the middle of a story, and you're already a few drinks in. Your face is flushed. Your eyes are a little glassy. Your hands gesture as you talk, knocking into my side, but my arm circles your waist again, pulling you closer, pressing your side flush against my chest. I'm not sure if anyone notices. Either way, you don't move away.

Devon, tipsy herself, leans on the table. “You guys are so cute.”

“Ugh.” you say in a disgusted way but I recognize it as playful. “I need to have a smoke. I'll be back.” You press a quick kiss on my cheek before getting up. I can't help but stare as you smooth out your dress, reaching into the pockets of your trenchcoat for a pack of smokes and a lighter before walking towards the part of outside that's private.

I watch as you go – watch the way your dress hugs your figure as you walk away, the guys at nearby tables turning their heads to do the same. It always happens – you draw the attention, I keep it.

I give it a minute – one minute and twelve seconds, I counted – before I’m standing, reaching for my jacket.

Jake’s eyes flicker up to me. “You're going after her, man?”

“Something like that.”

His mouth quirks up at the corner, like he knows exactly what that something is, but I can't find it in me to care. I'm out the door as fast as I can be.

“Hi,” you say between a drag as you see me walk out. “Whatre you doing?” You smile up at me and it's like I'm blessed.

“Thought you'd be cold,” I say naturally, arm already wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer to my side in the dim lighting.

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling again, taking another drag. “You just left Jake and Devon in there themselves?”

I lean against the brick wall and watch you exhale the smoke, the way the cold air makes it drift from your lips in wisps. Under the light of this street lamp you look unreal in all the ways I know you hate.

“They'll be fine.” I finally responded.

I'm still watching you, and you must know, because your tongue slips to wet your bottom lips and the corner of your mouth pulls up. You're enjoying this.

“You're drunk,” I say.

Your laugh brushes my face. “So are you.”

You're not wrong. My body's still buzzing all over. The buzz doesn't help with keeping my hands to myself. The other guys’ eyes didn't help either.

My hands are on your waist again, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress.

“You ruined my quiet smoke break.” you say, not really meaning it as you take your last drag and stomp it out. “C’mon, let's head back in.” You take my hand and bring me back in with you until we're back at the table.

I follow you back in like it's the most natural thing in the world, my hand pressed to the small of your back, your waist against my hip.

We slid back into our chairs, and were not any less close than we were before we left. If anything, my arm around your chair feels more obvious now.

We’re back to drinking, we're halfway through another round, and you're tipsy, maybe even a little past that by now. Your words have gotten a little louder, your laugh a little freer, the flush on your skin a little brighter.

You keep shifting in your chair, trying to get more comfortable in those heels you hate but wear anyway, and the hem of your dress rides up a little more every time. I pretend it's not driving me crazy.

We spend another hour or two there before paying for the food and getting back on our ride. You're giggling softly, obviously completely wasted, as I help you in with a smile on our face and our fingers intertwined.

“I hate these fucking shoes.” you say to me as soon as you get seated in the car.

“You chose them,” I say as I get in after you, shutting the door, and you lean against me for support, one hand on my chest.

“I know I did.” You're almost pouting, staring down at your feet in what looks like defiance. “And I hate them.”

I settle in next to you, my hands resting on your thigh instinctively. The driver starts the car, and as we drive, the tequila catches up to you again, faster than anything I've ever seen before.

Your head lands on my shoulder, your fingers start sliding along my side. I try to ignore both at the same time.

“I'm drunk.” You mumble.

I laugh under my breath. “I know, princess.”

“I don't like the pet name ‘princess’. I like when you call me angel more.” You say in a stupid honest way that's only coming from the fact that you're drunk.

I should've known tequila would get the truth out of you.

“You never told me you liked that.” I reply, my thumb brushing over the top of your thigh, just above the hem of your dress.

You lift your head from my shoulder to look at me, eyes slightly clouded and a little more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen them. My hand moves from your thigh to rest at the curve of your neck.

“You never asked.” You mumble back, and you smell like tequila, and your fingers are playing with the buttons of my shirt, and you're so close I can feel the warmth of your breath every time you inhale and exhale.

I laugh quietly, but I’m feeling my own alcohol buzz, and that's the only reason I say what I say next.

“Youre so beautiful it's stupid.”

A smile appears so quick on your lips that I know you find it embarrassing. “Shut up.” you whisper, looking away like a million people haven't said that already.

My fingers tip your chin up, turning your face back to me. Your blush is darker now, if possible, and it takes everything not to lean down and kiss you.

“Im just saying the truth.” My eyes don't leave yours, taking in every feature that's more beautiful than anything else in this car, or the whole restaurant, or maybe the world. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, Y/N.”

Your hands slide from my chest up to my neck, fingers weaving into the hair at the back of my head. “You say things like that,” you barely whisper. “But I can't read you.”

I'm too aware that my head is still on your thigh, fingers digging into your skin. I'm too aware that your mouth is inches from mine. I'm too aware of how desperately I want to close that distance. “Is that my fault or yours?”

“Youre good.” You shake your head with a grin as the car pulls up to our hotel that we were staying at. The driver opens our door and I'm out of it first, offering you my hand to help you out because I just know those heels are killing your ankles and you still have tequila running through your blood.

We stumble inside, your arm in my elbow, your hand holding onto my bicep for support.

I press the button for the elevator and try not to stare at the way the material of your dress hugs your waist, how it'd be so easy to get my hands under it and push you back up against the wall. Just the thought has me cursing under my breath.

The elevator door dings, and you pull me inside with you.

We stand next to each other, your back against the wall, my chest now pressed up against yours, and the second the doors close I'm kissing you, hard and fast like I've been wanting to all night.

At least I’m a little bit of a gentleman. I mean, I'd like to hope, I waited until we were between closed doors to start ravishing you.

You kiss back instantly, like it's what you were waiting for too, and one of your legs slides up to wrap around the back of my thigh. My hands grip your waist and pull you tighter against me.

I can feel as you start to pull back, and it’s probably because the elevator dinged, signalling were at our floor. But I cant help it, I cant pull back.

So, when the door does open, you're already trying to fix our position like you knew this would happen, but I'm still trying to pull you closer.

And of course, the Anne Hathaway steps into the elevator. You push me with more force and I run a hand over my face, laughing at us, and the fact we just got caught like that. I feel like a teenage fucking boy.

“Oh my God, Anne!” you say, and it's so obvious you're embarrassed. “Im so sorry. Fuck, I–” But, you do manage to get us out the elevator, stumbling out onto our floor, straighten your clothes.

I try to cover my smirk as the door closes, but you're pulling me down the hallway and trying not to laugh at yourself.

“You know Anne Hathaway?” I ask as you're fumbling in your purse for the keys, my body solid behind yours.

You roll your eyes, trying to act like you're not flustered. “Its not that crazy.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Its a little crazy.”

Finally you get the key in the lock and swing the door open, and I don't waste any time pushing you through it and shutting it behind me, and the second the doors closed I'm on you again.

My mouth is on yours, your arms snake around my neck, my hands slide under the hem of your dress, pushing it up your thighs.

I don't care about anything else but you right now, anything else but how your hands are grabbing onto my clothes, your nails scratching my skin.

You throw the keys into some random bowl by the door with too much force, causing the bowl to fall to the carpet, also making you laugh drunkenly against my lips.

“Fuck,” you curse against them, gripping onto my hair harder as we push each other back and forth, like were both fighting for control. We also both know it'll be handed to me anyway.

You're stumbling onto the bed, hands desperately pulling me with you, and I have to rip my mouth away to keep myself from laughing.

“Youre so drunk.” I say as I watch you squirm against the sheets.

You're trying to catch your breath, trying to pull me back to your lips, but I keep my hands on your thighs, holding them apart. “You didn't have to have so many shots.”

You're about to say something smart when my hands spread your legs apart and slide down to the waistband of your underwear, and your words turn into a gasp. “Are you still talking?”

I press my mouth to the inside of your thigh, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin as my fingers slide under the hem of your underwear, my other hand coming up to press against your stomach to keep you still.

You're already moving your hips against my hand, trying to get closer to the fingers that are now grazing through your underwear, touching right where your clit is.

“Fuck, Tucker.” you moan, seeing my face hidden between your thighs and underneath your dress. But you have to know exactly where I'm heading. It's always the first place I go.

I keep my eyes on you, watching your reaction, as my mouth moves up your thigh, leaving small hickeys as I go.

Your moan has me harder than I already was, and you're already pushing my hand down with your hips. You're whining now, and the sound goes straight to my cock.

“You want me to eat you, angel?” Your face goes slightly red, embarrassed at the way I was so blunt about it.

“God, Tucker!” You cover your face with your hands at my choice of words, smiling either way. “Dont say it like that!” you laugh.

I laugh and bite your inner thigh, hard enough that it'll be another bruise tomorrow, and my free hands yanks your hand away from your face. “No hiding,” I say, and you're about to respond when I finally slide your underwear aside and sink a single finger into you, no warning.

You gasp, your hips jolt forward, and your back arches off the bed, trying to push me closer. “You want me to eat you, baby?” I repeat.

“Please.” you finally whisper. It's quiet, I'll give you that, but still loud enough for me to hear and you're gripping onto my hair even harder.

I grin against the soft skin of your upper thigh. “That’s more like it.”

I remove my finger just to hear you whine and then replace it with my tongue, flattening my tongue against your clit and dragging it up.

You’re still gripping my hair, hard, as I start eating you out like I'm starving. My hands find your hips and pin them to the bed as I tongue-fuck you, the sounds coming from you and the way you’re trying to grab me everywhere are driving me insane.

You’re already pulling my hair hard enough to hurt and moaning without shame, and you taste so good that my lips and tongue can’t leave your clit.

You’re riding my mouth, your legs wrapped around my head to keep me in place, and it’s taking all your strength not to tighten your thighs around me.

“Christ,” you gasp as I pull away and slide my finger back into you. “You’re gonna make me come before you’ve even had – ah – a chance to have fun.”

I smile against your clit and push another finger into you, your moans only getting louder as I curl them against your walls.

“I am having fun.” I mumble against you, and you’re already clenching around my fingers.

I have to put my other hand on your thigh to keep you still enough just so I can properly eat you, and a string of curses falls from your lips as I pump my fingers in and out.

“Look at you,” I pull away long enough to say. “You're gonna come on my tongue, right?”

I’m back to breathing heavily into your pussy, and you just can't help but babble. You're saying a string of ‘yes’ and a bunch of ‘uh-huh’ as you reach your peak, your orgasm washing over you as quickly as it came.

You’re still riding my fingers as the waves start to slow down, your breaths still heavy and your legs still shaking.

I kiss your inner thigh again, pulling my fingers out of you, and pull yourself off the bed to collapse next to you.

“You look so pretty when you come.” I say as I move up the bed, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, still riding the high of making you come with just my tongue and fingers. It never gets old.

Your face is red and still flushed, but you’re smiling and reaching up to run your fingers through my hair.

“Shush,” you mumble. “You make me feel like I’m eighteen again.”

I can’t help but laugh and kiss away your embarrassed smile.

Your hands then move to my shirt as you make the kiss a little more serious in a way. Your tongue’s already invading my mouth and you're on the last button of my shirt.

You're moving like you can't waste anymore time. Not with me atleast, that is what I take away after every encounter. I mean, you've said I turn you into some sort of animal. The first time you told me, you were so embarrassed, I still remember the look on your face, but fuck, I am so into it. So into you, really.

I lift my arms so you can pull my shirt off, and the second it disappears I’m pressing you back against the bed and kissing you again with tongue and teeth, my hands finding the zipper on the back of your dress and pulling it down.

I’m moving fast now, getting your dress off and dropping it somewhere behind me until you’re completely naked under me, every inch of your skin laid out.

You switch the position, quick, pushing me onto my back, starting to kiss down my torso already. You leave a few hickeys here and there as I undo the button and zipper of my dress pants, kicking them off easily. I moan softly as you focus on my nipples for a second before your mouth reaches the waistband of my boxers.

You pull them down as I instinctively push your head down. I can feel your teeth smiling against my skin as you get them down my legs and off, your one hand already working me. That look in your eyes drives me insane. It's like you're waiting for me to tell you what to do.

Your hand working my cock has my stomach tightening and my eyes shutting, and I have to grip the sheets to not flip us back over again.

You’re already wrapping your lips around the head of my cock, and I have no chance of not being a moaning mess for you.

“Fuck.” My hands bury back into your hair. “Gonna make me come too fast if you keep that up.” My hips move up to push my cock further into your mouth, gagging you on my cock.

Your eyes are locked on mine as you suck me off, your tongue swirling around the head and your hands pressing my hips down so I can’t move too much.

It takes all my self-control not to hold you down and just face-fuck you, get myself off on your mouth.

I know that’s what you’d want anyway, but I’m not giving it to you that easily.

“Just like that.” I grunt. Your mouth is perfect around me, taking as much of my length as you can.

Your cheeks are hollowing out as you work me over, moving down to take as much of me as you can. Your mouth is making my toes curl, my teeth dig into my bottom lip, my hands grip your hair tighter and tighter.

All of this just from your mouth.

“Gonna come.” I rasp out. “You want me to come in your mouth, angel? Hm? You gonna take it all?” I’m holding your head still now as I fuck myself into your mouth.

I’m practically using your mouth now, pulling your head down on me by your hair, and you’re just letting me.

My hips are snapping up, not caring about how rough I’m being because you can take it and because your mouth feels so fucking good.

“Sucking me off so good, baby. Such a good girl.” I’m trying to keep my eyes on you, trying not to come too quickly, though it’s hard. I’m right fucking there.

Your free hand is pressed against my thigh to support yourself and somehow it just feels too good, almost a tease. It’s like you’re asking me to come with your fingers, with your throat.

You’re sucking me off like it’s your favorite thing in the world, and you’re letting me use your mouth like you know I’m so close.

You’re gagging on my cock for me.

“You’re gonna make me— ah, fu—“ My hips are still moving as I release down your throat, a groan leaving my lips.

You’re still sucking me off like you want to make me hard again right now. Like you want to keep me right here with your mouth on my cock.

Slowly, I pull out, and your mouth is still open when I do, my release on your bottom lip, a perfect view.

Before my eyes can shut I can already feel your thighs wrapping around my waist, your clit already sliding up my length, your chest against mine again.

You’re right there, holding my shoulder as your neck twists and your breath picks up.

You’re grinding against me like I’m all yours right now, your hands holding my shoulders and your hips moving against my waist.

We’re both too drunk to have any control, too messy and desperate for one another. Your moans are too loud, but you’re not trying to be quiet. You’re too into it for that.

Your forehead is pressed to my shoulder, your face buried in my neck, and you’re already panting in my ear. You start moaning even louder when I ”accidentally” slip in. We've played this game too many times before.

I’m still hard and already throbbing inside you, your hips grinding down on my cock and your clit.

Your moans are right in my ear and I’m too overwhelmed by you right now to do anything but hold you and let you take over.

You whine and moan, “Oh, god,” as you ride me faster, the feeling of me grinding up against your clit too good.

“Feels so good.” You manage to get out.

I take control of your hips because I love the feeling of you completely letting go in the moment, letting me have all the control.

And with that, I change our position. Suddenly, Im bending you over and Im behind you, already fucking into you in a way that turns you into a mess. Into someone who no one knows about. Only I get to see you like this, and it definitely drives me.

I grab a fistful of your hair as I push into you, the sound of your ass hitting my hips echoing off the walls.

You’re already moaning too loud, your hands reaching back and resting on my thighs.

“Such a pretty, pretty thing.” I get out in between my own grunts. “So tight. Can’t you just stay like this forever?”

You’re pushing back against me as you press your face into the sheets and your fingers tighten around the blanket. It feels too good, and your moans are too loud, but you can’t stop either.

Your legs are shaking against mine, and I know you’re close already.

Just a “yeah” comes out of you. But it’s enough for me to know you’re feeling too good too.

I can hear you moaning into the sheets, the sound slightly muffled but still so needy for me.

“Your pussy is perfect, baby.” I rasp. “You’re perfect.” My hands grip your hips almost too hard, fingers sure to leave marks in your skin.

You’re moving back against me, meeting every one of my thrusts and just taking it. My hand comes up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place against the mattress as the headboard hits the wall.

My hands are digging into your hips so hard it’s leaving marks I know will last.

You’re getting closer now, your moans getting louder and your legs starting to give out below you.

You’re pushing back against me and taking me as deep as you can, that’s how close you must be.

“You’re my baby, huh?” I rasp. “My angel. Such a pretty little cock sleeve for me, aren’t you?” I keep going. “Such a good girl for me.” I groan.

You moan something against the sheets and it’s too difficult for me to make out your words.

“Gonna come.” You finally manage to get out, and it’s the only warning I get before you’re tightening up around me as you clench up. I curse and hold you a little tighter as you feel me coming inside you, filling you up.

“Fucking hell, baby.” I groan as I come down from my high. You’re slumped against the bed, your legs looking like they’re shaking a little.

I don’t pull out of you right away, my hands sliding off your waist as I try and catch my breath.

You’re still slumped over, breathing hard, and you don’t even bother to move. I lean over you and press a messy kiss to the back of your neck, to your shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful,” I mumble and press another kiss against the back of your neck, and you laugh under me.

You laugh again, reaching back to push my hair back off my forehead that’s resting on your neck.

“You’re just being nice.” You brush me off. I roll my eyes at that, but you can’t see it.

“No, I mean it.” I press another kiss to the shell of your ear and move to roll you over, but you don’t make the motion easy. You’re still refusing to move.

“You’re so hard to compliment.” I grumble as I maneuver you onto your back.

My hand runs down the plane of your stomach, a million thoughts rushing back to my head.

My eyes meet yours again and that want has not dissipated yet. I’m fucked. I groan and lean back in, kissing your neck and positioning myself back between your legs.

I can feel you getting wet again when I grind down against your clit with my still-hard cock. You gasp and squeeze my ass when I do and I grin.

“Always such a greedy girl, aren’t you?” I murmur and press another kiss to your neck, biting and leaving a bruise.

Your only reply is a moan, and you’re pressing up against me as much as you can. I’m getting too worked up again.

“I gotta get back inside you,” I tell you, my voice showing how fucking lost I am right now. Lost in you.

My cock is hard again when I sink back into you, and my hips pick up a pace against yours.

Your legs squeeze around my waist, trying to pull me even deeper, to take even more of me.

You’re already moaning and clenching around me again, and I let you pull me down, your hands on my back and my mouth against your neck again. I’ll let you do anything to me right now. You just make me dizzy.

”Your pussy is perfect, baby.” I rasp against your skin, nipping it.

This time you whine something that can almost be called my full name, though it only comes out as “Tuck–“ before you’re cut off by another moan. You’re trying to hold on, to keep it together.

I don’t know why you bother.

My tongue is on your neck, your collarbone, your chest. My hands move down to grip your waist to hold you still as I’m thrusting into you.

”Your perfect little pussy feels so good on my cock, sweetheart.”

Your hands are pulling my hair, trying to bring my mouth back to yours, and I give in. I don’t fight your arms around my neck, your hands on my head.

My tongue slides into your mouth, and you moan into the kiss. It’s messy. So messy.

I’m pushing too hard against you, too desperate. I’m just as lost in sensation as you are. The sound of skin slapping fills the room, filling my ears with that sound, my fingers pressing into your skin so tightly they’ll leave marks. Your mouth, your hands, your body.

It’s all mine, and I’m letting you take what’s yours.

”You’re too much, sweetheart.” I pant out in between gasps and moans, and you nod your head in agreement.

Your face is flushed again, your hands clawing at my back, and your mouth is open against mine. Your moans are getting loud enough that I have to put my hand over your mouth to quiet you, and I can’t help but love the way you go boneless.

”Be quiet, baby. Let me show you how good I can make you feel.” I murmur against your ear.

”You don’t have to do much of anything.” You mumble back, and I full-on grin.

My hand slides down from your mouth and to your neck, gripping harder as I grip your neck. Just enough to make it a little hard to talk and breathe. I know you like it. You like it when I’m rough. You love it, and I’m gonna give it to you.

My hand comes down to press against your stomach, and I can feel my cock in you, your walls clenching around me. You’re trying not to be too loud.

”You’re gonna feel this for days.” I tell you.

“I’m gonna come, Tucker.” You moan loudly, the sound slipping right through the gaps of my fingers.

“Yeah, baby? Yeah?” Even I’m close to whimpering now, digging deeper into you.

My hips are moving faster now, moving with need, with a need I can’t stand anymore. I’m too far gone to keep any composure, just like you.

My mouth is on your tits, the feel of my teeth almost too much as I suck and bite. Your hands come down to grip my hair again, trying to keep me there as I grind down against your clit.

My own moans are escaping my lips now, and I’m pressing you down into the mattress like I’m trying to get you to sink into it.

”Gonna come for me again, angel?”

You can hardly make a sound right now, and your chest is rising and falling too quickly. You’re a mess, your face all red and flushed, and you’re nodding frantically.

Your grip is too tight, but it feels so good.

”Yes, yes, yes—“ You manage to get out, and I can feel you getting closer.

”Come for me, Y/N. On my cock. Show me, just once more.” I rasp. All of my focus is on you, on making you feel good. I couldn’t think about anything else if I tried.

You’re almost there, just so close. You’re whining high and needy now, almost like a child. Your back is arching off the mattress, your legs are trembling around me, and you’re practically pleading.

”Please, please, I’m so—“ It’s all you can get out before you’re coming around me again, and I curse at how good it feels. Your hands are still clutching me tightly, like you can’t let me pull away.

”Your pussy’s too perfect for me. You’re gonna make me come like this. God.”

I can’t hold myself back anymore, and I’m groaning out your name, your fingers digging into my skin as you pull me tighter against you, my mouth pressed to your neck again. My hips are snapping against yours, and I’m buried as deep as I possibly can be, filling you up again for the second time.

My head is spinning, and all I can think is your name.

”Fuck, Y/N. You’re gonna be the death of me.” I pant against your neck when I catch my breath.

​​“Good?” I lift my head away from your neck just to look at you, and you’re smiling up at me.

You roll your eyes at me. ”Stop being smug. You know it was good.” You mumble.

I smirk and press a kiss to your forehead. ”Yeah, babe. It was good. For both of us.”

You slap my arm and huff. ”I don’t need your ego getting any bigger.”

I laugh and bury my head back into your neck. ”You love my ego, sweetheart.”

You run your hand through my hair again, and I can feel you running your fingers through all the tangles you caused when you pulled my hair from all the different angles.

”I don’t think I can move.” You groan, and I smile against your neck.

”Yeah, you’re stuck here for a while, baby.”