hiatus

brahms takes your arm, pulling it over him as he lays his head on your chest. carefully, you wrap your arm around him, fingers carding through his hair as the other sits on his waist. his weight is being held enough on his for it not to crush you, but to still give you the pleasant warm push of body heat.

“g’night, brahms,” you murmur, kissing the top of his head, and you feel him push his face deeper into the fabric of your shirt by your stomach and mumble a reply.

when his breathing evens out, your shoulders relax with the assumption that he’s fallen asleep. you’re content with this, staring at the paintings on the wall, the engravings on the ceiling, not quite tired enough to fall asleep — but not energized enough to get up.

after a few minutes, you feel him shift. his left hand grasps your waist tighter, and his head moves upwards. you feel him nuzzle himself in the middle of your chest, snuggling his face in-between your breasts.

you gasp. at first, the movement surprises you, before you realize he’s probably just moving in his sleep, not quite aware of what he’s doing.

brahms’ fingers play with the knitting on your top, and you watch as his scarred face comes up to look at yours, eyes wide open.

“can i…” he takes a deep, cool breath in, his hand coming up to sit by your left breast. “can i put my mouth on them? please?” the please only coming out as a whimper.

your mouth open and closes before you opt to just nod. you watch him when he lifts your shirt up, pulling it over your breasts, along with the cups of your bra. you squirm a little at the cool air, before his warm mouth takes hold of your hardened nipple.

brahms sucks and kisses your breasts, breath heavy, but its clear to you its for his own comfort, not directed towards your pleasure. at least, not in this moment.

your fingers keep carding through his soft, brown hair (that you forced him to wash) as he keeps his pace slow. you almost feel like he’s nursing. this goes on.

a sharp gasp leaves you when his teeth graze your nipple for the first time. hearing your noise, his hips automatically jerk, a light grind against your leg. your grip on his hair tightens. “brahms?”

he doesn’t respond. instead, his hips keep moving, humping himself against your leg, mouth still working on your tits. his whimpers and light grunts vibrate against your skin.

you’re gasping, pushing his face closer to you, needing more friction. his thrusts get faster, more desperate, and you can make out desperate pleas coming from him, muffled by your breast.

brahms’ leg slides between yours for a better angle. it makes his grind harder, moving you with him. you can feel his hard cock against your leg, and you swear you can almost make out the throbbing underneath his pants.

“keep going,” you encourage, figuring he must need this. “you’re doing so well.”

with your words, he lets out a loud, almost pornagraphic moan as he cums in his pants. he grabs your hips hard, pulls you in tight, and buries his face directly in between your tits.

finally, his breathing evens out and his pants subside. you pet his hair, and press a light kiss atop his head.

the bed lightly creaks as you settle on top of the man below you, legs on either side of him, knees planted on the mattress below you.

you reach your hands down, intertwining his hands with yours. his large fingers incase your small ones, immediately warming your skin, sending shivers down your naked body. you swallow harshly as you stare down at him.

“you can take it,” he whispers, barely audible. he can see you trying not to stare at his cock, throbbing and leaking precum — and he swears it’s almost as thick as your thigh. you let out a light whimper, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, as he grasps onto his own length and rubs it against the entrance of your cunt. “you always do.”

his tip slides within your folds, pressing into your tight hole, and you almost collapse onto him. your body trembles as he enters you, cock stretching you out almost to your limit. every time, every time you do this, you’re surprised you can even take him.

“such a small pussy,” he whispers, hot breath against your ear, mask discarded long ago. “‘n tight.”

his arms wrap around your small form as he plants his feet on the bed below him. grunting, his hips snap, cock sliding in and out of your pussy. you let out a high-pitched moan, it’s almost too much.

“take it, take it,” he grunts, hips snapping up against yours at a rapid pace. “just take it.”

you’re a blabbering mess above him, and you can’t tell if you’re pleading for him to slow down or go harder — but you know either or doesn’t matter to him. he won’t stop, can’t stop, and you’re overpowered by his mass. his moans are heavy in your ear as he slides his veiny hands down your back, gripping your ass in both of his large palms, helping you bounce faster on his dick. as his hands leave yours you grip his shoulders to keep yourself from flailing.

the way he’s positioned and the pure size of him makes him hit that spongy part inside of you over and over. your blood runs hot, sweat gathering between both of your bodies, your high coming on hard and fast.

“i’m cumming, please,” you gasp, once again not even knowing what you’re pleading for.

with brahms’ hips relentlessly snapping up into yours, you orgasm takes over you almost immediately. he watches as your body shakes and spasms over his cock, but he doesn’t stop moving.

“brahms, please—“ you cry, “too much. it’s too much.”

he grabs you, flipping you both over so he’s on top of you. he almost crushes you with his weight, keeping his ruthless pace. skin slapping against skill fills the room and your ears, along with your high whines and his grunts.

“you can take it,” brahms moans. “just a little more, ki… kitty.”

he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. his size makes it easier for him to get you to where he wants you whenever he wants you. the thought is both arousing and horrifying.

“close. close.”

your lip is bleeding from your teeth. his hips are pounding into yours at an almost inhuman pace, desperation taking hold of him as it always does. you want to reach out, stroke his hair, but his hands have a firm grip on your wrists.

he practically howls as he starts cumming hard, so much cum you don’t know how it’ll even stay in you. with that thought, you can immediately feel access cum seeping out of you and down your leg — soaking the sheets.

his weight crushes you underneath him, pressing you down hard into the bed as his orgasm fades. panting against your ear.

“brahms,” you squeak. “too heavy.”

with slight hesitation, he rolls off of you, but makes sure he’s still inside of you. you’re both on your sides, facing each other, his arms encasing you in a cage of heat. you never feel smaller than when he holds you like this — swaddling you, trapping you. and you know he likes it like that.

“i have to clean up,” you say.

“no, love,” he whispers the nickname, “stay. don’t go. please.”

it was supposed to be a peaceful midday walk.

the sun was still bright, beautiful and warm, the weather hot enough for little clothing but chilly enough that you weren’t sweating.

brahms’ footsteps crunch with the leaves, heavy boots following behind you with a large, hairy hand intertwined with yours. he never strays far from you. you can feel heavy eyes staring me into the back of your head, almost piercing your skull, but you figure it’s just his usual gaze.

recently, brahms has taking a liking to picking out clothing for you. specifically, you had shown him online shopping, and he enjoyed picking and choosing clothing for you to wear. but with his childlike wonder, combined with his adult perversion, you didn’t always buy what he chose — but this time, you had.

a light, fluttering dress, cutting off mid-thigh and hugging your curves just right. he had liked the colors of it, simple and white, something that almost resembled a casual wedding dress, exempt from the light, pastel flowers laced in. you had chosen to wear it on your walk today, perfect for the weather. but when brahms picked it, he didn’t realize just how good it would make you look. something in him was stirring, a primal instinct, the overwhelming feeling of just wanting to devour that purity.

as you ramble on about the sights, various birds and woodland animals, brahms is far from listening. as much as he loves your stories, loves the sound of your voice; it’s the farthest thing from his mind right now.

the only warning you get is his hand tightening in yours, almost turning your palms white, before he’s pushing you against a tree with force. your eyes grow wide like a deer, your hair slightly getting caught in the bark behind you, as he corners you up against the sycamore. his head dives, burying itself in your shoulder, pressing his body tightly against yours to keep you caged against the tree. you grab onto his shoulders for support as his weight slightly lifts you up from the ground.

his head won’t stop moving on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck as much as he can. you let out an involuntary gasp as his hair leaves goosebumps in it’s wake.

“brahms—“ you breathe out, reaching to stroke his curls between your fingers. “what’s all this for?” you’re stuttering, taken aback, but still trying to stabilize yourself as much as you can.

he growls against your skin, mask scraping against your collarbone. “you look so pretty,” he says. “so so pretty.”

oh. you get it.

once he snaps his hips against your center, you almost yelp, gripping his cardigan a little tighter. reaching down, you help him unbuckle his pants, watching his hurried movements. he grabs you, pulling you up the tree. you wrap your legs around his waist as he holds you up, already feeling him against you as you push your panties aside.

“please, please,” he begs, “let me have you- please,”

“you can have me, brahms.”

before you can get another word out, let alone register any change, he’s already pressing the tip of his cock into you, before roughly pushing the rest of himself in. you moan at the intrusion, mixed with both pleasure and pain, biting so hard into your lip you think it might bleed.

you can’t even find the time to adjust before he’s rutting against you, practically humping you like a dog against the tree. he’s groaning and gasping into your ear, whimpering your name over and over, as your hand grabs and pulls at his curls with each thrust. there’s no calculation or rhythm to his movements. just unbridled lust and want.

your ankles lock around him, pushing him deeper into you. he lets out a loud whimper at that, ramming his cock into you even harder. he’s throbbing, so overwhelmed with want he can barely say anything, whimpering so much you almost think he’s crying. the fabric of your clothing is the only thing stopping the sound of slapping skin.

“please, please,” he’s crying, begging, not even knowing himself what he’s asking you for. more? to cum? to stay buried inside you forever? all are correct answers, you bet.

“fill me up, brahms,” you gasp, your breath filling his ear with warm air, his voice wavering at your words. you know how addicted he is to just hearing you say that — the idea of you begging him to mark you as his driving him crazier than you could even know.

“i will, i will,” he moans, hands gripping your hips tight. you can tell he’s close by the way his hips stutter.

you reach down as much as you can muster, rubbing your clit in circles, in time with his thrusts. brahms moans at the sight, hips stilling against yours as he gasps and sputters against you, releasing his load deep inside you.

with the feeling and sound of him cumming, you reach your own peak, legs tightening around his waist and cunt clenching around his cock. he moans again at the tight, wet spasms around him.

once you both come down, you’re left panting against each other, brahms still holding you up against the tree. with a pat on his shoulder, he pulls out of you and sets you down on the ground. you readjust your panties before helping him put himself back inside his pants.

“we should go home now, brahms.” you say, tsking when he shakes his head no. “we have to clean ourselves up.”

a whimper, a light one, escapes his lips, face pushed down into the cushions, drool painting the dark colored pillow. his light pants and grunts push hot breath against his own face, eyes rolling back.

the light slap of skin echoes in the bedroom, your hands gripping tightly on his skin as you fuck into him, body tilted slightly over his. he's whining at the feeling of you stretching him, a tight squeeze — but not an unfamiliar one. your grunts echo in his ears delightfully.

"please," he's gasping, barely able to catch his breath, hair sticking to his forehead as he whines; begs, begs for you. begs for anything and everything you can give him.

"touch yourself." you gruff out, nails digging into his skin. he moans at the demand, lifting his body up as best he can, hand squeezing between his body, reaching for his throbbing cock to stroke at himself desperately.

"good boy, good boy, brahms."

he lets out a loud moan at that, almost pornographic. his hand is tight, moving in time with your quickening thrusts, eyelashes fluttering as he feels the familiar tingle of his impending orgasm.

"you close, honey?"

he whispers out something, barely audible.

your hand reaches to pull his hair, not too hard, head leaning down towards his ear. "speak up."

"yes."

"hold it for me."

brahms lets out a broken sob.

"you can do it. just a lil' more, brahms. you're being so good."

you know he'll wait. you know he'll wait until you tell him he's allowed. the mere thought gets you closer to your own end, grunting in his ear, knowing he has lent full control to you.

with a few more thrusts, your pants grow faster, shorter. "now. now."

he lets out broken thank you's and other words of gratitude, his hand speeding up until a broken, whiney, final yell leaves him, cum spilling all over his hand and onto the sheets below him. your grip tightens as you finish inside him, hips stilling against his ass, hand still tangled inside his brown locks.

after a moment of panting, you slip out of him, laying down next to him on the bed. he's collapsed, body fully worn out and sated.

you reach out, stroking the spot of his head where you pulled his hair. he nestles into your touch like a cat, and you swear you can hear him purr.