Welcome

-11:45 PM

Katsuki's arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. Fresh from the shower, he smelled like clean body wash and warmth. You immediately scooted back closer.

"Tch," he muttered against your hair. "There it is."

"What?"

"That look."

Your brows pinched together.

"The one you get when you're high."

A laugh escaped you, quiet and lazy.

"I have a look?"

"Yeah."

His answer came immediately like he'd been studying it. Your smile widened.

"And what does it look like?"

Katsuki shrugged.

"Dunno."

"You just said I have one."

"You do."

You rolled onto your back with a dramatic sigh, earning an unimpressed look from him.

"Very helpful, Katsuki."

"I'm serious."

His hand found your thigh beneath the blanket, giving it a firm squeeze before settling there.

"Your eyes get all heavy."

You hummed.

"You get quieter."

"Hm."

"You smile at everythin'."

That one made you laugh.

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

His lips twitched.

"You smiled at a lamp earlier."

"It was a nice lamp."

"It was a lamp."

Your laughter filled the room, softer than usual, and Katsuki found himself staring again. Usually your mind moved a mile a minute. Even when you were relaxed, there was always something happening behind your eyes.

Tonight there wasn't.

You looked comfortable.

Peaceful.

For someone who'd spent months watching you struggle to fall asleep, it was almost unsettling.

"You’re starin' again?"

His gaze snapped back to yours. The grin on your face told him you'd caught him.

"Tch."

"There he is."

"There who is?"

"The guy who's been lookin' at me weird for the last two weeks."

"I'm not lookin' at you weird."

"You are."

You pointed at him.

"Curious?"

His eyes narrowed.

You gasped.

"Oh my god."

"What?"

"You wanna know what it's like."

The accusation landed perfectly. Because you were right. Katsuki groaned as soon as your grin turned mischievous.

"Don't start."

"You do?"

"I'm just asking"

"I'm not curious."

"You are!"

"I'm not."

"Then don't try it."

The challenge left your mouth before you could stop it.

Silence.

His stare immediately flattened.

You smiled.

Slowly.

Dangerously.

"...you did that on purpose."

"Did what?"

His hand pinched your side.

You yelped, laughing as you tried to twist away.

"Okay! Okay!"

"Brat."

"But are you gonna try it?"

Katsuki looked away first then back at you.

Which was answer enough.

A few minutes later, the balcony door slid open behind you, letting warm summer air spill into the apartment. The city stretched endlessly beyond the railing, lights blinking against the dark skyline.

You held up the preroll triumphantly.

His brow lifted.

"That the stuff?"

"Mhm."

You started toward one of the chairs but a hand closed around your wrist. Before you could question it, Katsuki dropped into the patio couch behind you and tugged.

"Katsuki!"

A second later you landed squarely in his lap. His arm immediately settled around your waist.

"Sit."

"I'm literally already sitting."

"Good."

You laughed.

The deep rumble of his chuckle vibrated against your back as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

Comfortable.

Like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Eight months together meant you were long past the stage of pretending not to want each other's attention.

You leaned back into him automatically.

His arms tightened.

Satisfied.

You lit your preroll for him.

"First pull down to your chest, hold it, let it out and repeat two more times. You're gonna cough a lot so just go slow."

His first wasn't too bad.

The second almost killed him.

"What—the fuck—"

A coughing fit cut him off.

You laughed so hard you nearly dropped the lighter.

"I did say you were gonna cough."

Another cough.

You handed him a water bottle -definitely helped. He took his last pull, teary eyed with a hoarse throat as he exhaled.

For several minutes neither of you spoke.

You just sat there watching the city and eventually you felt him shift behind you then go completely still.

A smile threatened the corner of your mouth.

You didn't say anything.

Neither did he.

You could practically hear him hoping you hadn't noticed.

Unfortunately for him you absolutely had.

The silence stretched.

Long enough to become suspicious.

Long enough to become funny.

Long enough that your shoulders began to shake.

Behind you he groaned.

"You noticed?"

You finally laughed. "Maybe."

“S-sorry” he mumbles into your back

“Don’t ever apologize for that” you wiggle until he was pressed flushed between your silk covered booty cheeks.

“being horny a side effect?” he whispered.

“yeah” you smirk softly to yourself.

You slowly roll your hips forward on him. Your silk nightgown making the motion smoother —just the perfect amount of friction that causes him to moan softly. One of his hands waste no time moving up your thigh while the other moves from your side up to your breast.

He breaths into your neck while clenching his teeth.

His fingers curl into the soft skin of breast, squeezing as he tries to bite back an immediate reaction to your moan. His other hand draws random shapes up your thigh and to your pussy.

Your head settles back against his shoulder as you open your legs for him without a word. His eyes drift downward, taking in the slow, gentle rhythm of your hips rocking against him, completely mesmerized by the sight.

His eyes drift shut, his chin resting against your shoulder as he quietly savors your words. The slow grind of your body against him has his breathing growing heavier, each small movement pulling him further under.

"Mmm..."

He gives your hip a gentle tap.

You shift forward just enough for him to tug his shorts and boxers down. Once they're out of the way, you settle back onto his lap, straddling him with your back still pressed to his chest, your legs draped over his.

His hands find the silky fabric of your nightgown, fingers curling into the material before slowly gathering it in his fists. As the hem slips higher, his gaze follows.

Then he stills.

His eyes linger, drinking in the sight before him.

A slow, disbelieving smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he exhales through his nose, completely captivated.

You're not wearing any panties. Your intention was going to sleep remember?

"God..."

The word leaves him in little more than a whisper, equal parts awe and admiration, as though he isn't entirely sure what he did to deserve the view in front of him.

His chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, each one matching the slow rhythm of your hand palming his cock. He presses a lingering kiss to the back of your shoulder, his lips barely leaving your skin before finding another spot to linger on.

"Fuck, baby... m'so horny," he rasps. His voice is rough, strained.

He slides his hands beneath your thighs and lifts you with effortless ease. You know exactly what he wants before he says another word, instinctively moving with him.

The moment he begins guiding you down on his cock, your breath hitches at how much its stretching your eager little cunt. His forehead drops against your shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as he tries to steady himself.

He buries another kiss against your neck, lingering there as if the warmth of your skin might distract him from way your pussy grips him and everything else he's feeling.

It doesn't.

A shaky breath leaves him instead.

His arms instinctively tighten around you, holding you close, keeping you tucked securely against his chest. For a long moment, neither of you says anything. You're both too consumed by the overwhelming closeness, discovering together how every sensation seems heightened.

Neither of you had expected it.

The high made everything feel slower.

Warmer.

More intense.

Every sound you made reached him before it had the chance to disappear into the night.

Each shaky breath.

Every quiet gasp.

Every little moan that slipped past your lips seemed to vibrate straight through his chest with how closely he held you.

You should've felt exposed.

Embarrassed, even.

Instead, you found yourself melting further into him, completely undone by the way he watched you.

As wrecked as you looked...

...he looked no better.

His lips stayed slightly parted, each breath leaving him in quiet pants against your neck. His eyes wandered endlessly over your face, never settling in one place for long.

Your eyes.

Your lips.

The way you kept catching your bottom lip between your teeth. The way your expression unraveled every time another wave washed over you.

He watched it all with quiet disbelief, like he couldn't decide whether to memorize you or lose himself in the moment.

The instant another breathless moan escaped your mouth, he couldn't take it anymore. He captured your lips again.

The kiss was clumsy.

Desperate.

Slow in all the right ways.

The sudden warmth of his mouth against yours pulled an even louder sound from your throat.

Your body answered before your mind could.

You tightened around him.

A sharp hiss escaped between his teeth as his forehead bumped lightly against yours, his eyes squeezing shut for a heartbeat before opening to find yours again.

One of his hands leaves your hip to cradle your face. His fingers gently squeeze your cheeks, coaxing you to look back at him over your shoulder.

The sight nearly undoes him.

His eyes are heavy beneath half-lowered lids, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches every expression that flickers across your face. Every little reaction. Every shaky breath. Completely mesmerized by the way you're melting in his arms.

"Fuck, baby, I— god damn this pussy's s'good."

The words fall from him in a breathless rush before he crashes his lips into yours. The kiss is messy, desperate, all tongues and broken moans, like he can't get close enough no matter how tightly he's holding you.

Neither of you had expected it to feel like this.

Everything is amplified.

Every touch lingers.

Every movement seems to echo through both of you, slow enough to savor yet somehow overwhelming all at once.

You gasp into the kiss, your fingers searching for something to hold onto before reaching back and tangling in his hair.

"Ahh— Sukiii..."

Your tug earns a deep grunt against your lips, his forehead dropping briefly against the side of your head as he exhales through clenched teeth.

"BABY... this cock, oh my God!"

A crooked smile flashes across his face despite the strain written all over it.

"Yeah? What about it, princess?" his voice is rough, teasing despite how wrecked he sounds, his hands steady on your hips as he keeps you tucked securely against him.

"so big... s'good."

Your words dissolve into another breathless sound as your head tips back against his shoulder.

"That's it," he grunts, unable to hide the grin creeping into his voice. "You love it."

"Fuck! I love it!"

Your slick coats him completely, gathering at the base before slipping between his thighs. His hand drifts lower, his fingertips finding your clit. The first touch steals the breath from your lungs, your body tightening around him on instinct. Every slow circle draws another involuntary clench, your thighs trembling as you melt further into his embrace.

"Oh, fuck… you're like a vice."

The sound of your breathing fills the quiet night, broken only by his strained groans against your ear. Every motion seems to pull another reaction from you, your body answering his without thought.

You come apart in his arms with a broken cry, clenching around him so tightly it tears a deep groan from his chest. His hand instinctively cradles your neck while the other never leaves you, determined to carry you through every wave. He buries his face against your shoulder as he follows moments later.

"fuck... Fuck... FUCK!"

The words leave him in ragged gasps, each one more breath than voice. His chest rises sharply against your back as he clings to you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as though letting go isn't even an option yet.

For several long seconds, neither of you moves.

You're both too busy catching your breath, hearts pounding in perfect sync beneath the glow of the city skyline.

Only when his breathing finally begins to steady does he press one last kiss against your shoulder.

"Stand —up," he pants.

You glance back at him.

His eyes meet yours, still dazed, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Hands on the railing."

<< back

He got stood up.

A small crease pulled between your brows. That almost never happened to men who looked like him.

Leaning forward, your elbow pressed against the table while your cheek rested lazily against your palm, eyes lingering and then—

He looked over.

Red eyes met yours instantly. Tired at first. Distant. Before the realization settled that someone had been staring.

And not just someone.

His attention caught briefly on your half-lidded gaze before lowering —burgundy under gloss stained lips. The delicate jewelry resting against your throat. The way your posture somehow stayed elegant even folded over the table like that.

Pretty wasn't enough of a word.

What threw him more was the familiarity crawling at the back of his mind. Like he'd seen you somewhere before.

Not enough for him to place.

Just enough to itch at the back of his mind.

Then you smiled.

Small. Knowing. The corner of your burgundy lips curling around the rim of your wine glass like you caught him slipping.

He cleared his throat immediately, dragging his gaze back toward the windows before he embarrassed himself.

Cute.

You finished the rest of your glass in one slow sip before setting it down gently against the tablecloth.

And before your brain could talk you out of it —your body moved first, delicate fingers folding around the handle of your matching purse.

The short walk between your tables suddenly felt louder than the entire restaurant. Boots clicking softly against the floor until you stopped beside him.

Up close, he looked even worse for your sanity.

Broad shoulders folded into the back of the chair. Blond hair slightly messy from his hands dragging through it all night. Those red eyes sharper this close —deep ruby under the dim lighting, intense enough to make most people nervous.

You liked that right away.

“Waiting on someone?” you asked softly.

Not teasing and not innocent either.

He looked up at you, visibly caught off guard by the fact you were speaking to him at all.

“Not anymore,” he answered after a second, rubbing the back of his neck.

A quiet laugh slipped from you. “Bummer.”

And before he could even process what was happening, you sat on the chair next to him. One leg crossed smoothly over the other, body turned completely toward him like he suddenly had your full attention and no-one else in the room mattered.

That nearly did him in right there.

Because beautiful women existed —obviously.

But women like you didn't just walk across restaurants and place themselves into a stranger’s night like this.

Not willingly.

Not looking at them like that.

His gaze flickered over you before he could stop it. The fitted black fabric hugging your body. The pleated skirt riding dangerously high once you crossed your legs. The faint shine of sheer stockings.

Every detail about you felt expensive.

Intentional.

“And you…” his voice roughened slightly before he cleared it. “What about you?” -then your perfume hit him fully. Warm. Addicting. Feminine in a way that settled low in his stomach almost instantly.

Jesus Christ.

He forced himself to focus.

You tilted your head thoughtfully at the question, fingers tracing slowly around the rim of an untouched water glass.

“Just looking for a distraction.”

The eye contact never broke once.

And that answer combined with the way you said it nearly made him forget how to think.

“That so?” he asked carefully, though the slight challenge in his tone betrayed him.

Because part of him still didn’t believe this was real. Didn’t believe someone who looked like you would willingly sit here flirting with him while his ex technically still occupied the back of his mind like unfinished paperwork.

You hummed softly before letting your gaze drag over him again.

“Hard to believe someone who looks as good as you got stood up.”

A grin tugged at your lips.

“She’s gotta be a bitch.”

For the first time all night —he laughed.

Low and genuine.

And somehow that sound felt more rewarding than it should’ve. It finally broke the tension between you. He leaned back slightly, a low laugh slipping out of him as he rubbed at his jaw.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “M’not so good at picking nice ones it seems.”

You smiled into your glass at that.

Cute.

“Gonna ask you a couple questions.”

His brow lifted.

“Just keep your answers simple, k?”

Something about the way you said it made his stomach tighten.

He nodded once, shifting in his chair slightly. “Alright.”

Your eyes flicked toward the envelope propped up next to candle.

“What’s in there?”

“A check.”

Short answer.

Just like you asked.

“Drove here?” you asked.

“Yeah.”

“You a good driver?”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth this time. “Better than most.”

"Occupation?"

"Aerospace engineer"

You hummed approvingly.

“Name?”

“Katsuki.”

The way you repeated it almost sounded obscene. “Mmm… Katssuukiii.” The syllables melted right off your tongue smooth and slow, he physically felt the effect of it somewhere deep in his chest.

Or maybe lower.

His tongue dragged briefly across his bottom lip before he caught himself.

“And yours?”

You gave him a fake name easily.

Your finger tapped once against the stem of a wine glass before your gaze dragged slowly back to him.

“Think you could lift me?”

He actually scoffed at that.

Not cocky.

Certain.

“Easily,” he said. “One hand too.”

That made your smile widen properly for the first time tonight.

God.

He almost stopped breathing over something as small as that.

You leaned back on the chair after that, crossing your arms loosely beneath your chest while still facing him.

The movement alone nearly distracted him.

Then came the dangerous part.

Your lashes lowered slightly as you looked up at him.

“Wanna leave here?”

He held your gaze.

“with me?” you added softly.

His throat worked around a swallow as his eyes flicked down to your lips for the first time all night without immediately looking away after.

He was trying so hard to keep it together.

Trying to stay smooth. Calm. Unaffected.

Meanwhile you were sitting beside him looking like temptation dressed in black fabric and glossy lips.

“Yeah,” he answered finally, voice lower now.

— — -- -- -

The restraint he carried all night cracked open the moment you stepped into his domain. Palms firm beneath your thighs hauling you up against him like he’d been thinking about it the entire drive home.

A startled laugh barely left your mouth.

God.

Your pulse fluttered instantly as you wrapped your legs around him. You pressed open-mouthed kisses against his neck just to feel the way his breathing broke.

His mouth found yours too, rough kisses pressing against sensitive skin hard enough to make your head tip back.

“katsuki”

He grunted softly at the sound of his name falling from your lips like that. He held you with embarrassing ease while he walked you deeper into the apartment.

You loved that.

Loved the confidence in it.

The way he handled you like he already knew you liked being moved around. Like he knew pretty girls like you got dizzy over strength.

By the time the edge of his desk hit the backs of your legs, your breathing had already gone uneven, barely giving you a second to recover before his hands were undoing the zipper to your boots.

He turned you around so quickly it made your head spin.

One second you were facing him — the next your front was pressed against the desk, trapped between the solid edge of it and the heat of his body crowding close behind you.

A breath caught in your throat.

His hands moved slowly this time.

Deliberately.

Sliding over your shoulders and down your arms like he was taking his time learning every inch of you beneath his palms before settling firmly at your hips.

Then he bent you over.

The position alone nearly made your knees weaken.

He paused there for a second just to look at you.

And fuck.

You looked unreal like this.

Spread out beneath the low office lighting, skirt pushed up your thighs, breathing uneven already from how easily he handled you.

A rough sound left him before he dropped to his knees behind you, fingers hooking impatiently into your stockings.

The fabric tore under his hands without much effort.

His gaze darkened slowly the higher the ripped material disappeared down your legs, revealing flashes of warm skin until finally—

Bright red lace.

Already damp.

The sight made him still for half a second.

Of course your panties were red.

His favorite color.

The sight pulls something dangerous from him.

A low sound.

Satisfied.

His mouth dragged along the inner parts of your thigh —greedy with it, like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to kiss it or ruin you first.

“Open,” he demanded.

And your body obeyed before your brain even caught up.

Another satisfied sound rumbled low in his throat at how quickly you listened.

God, he liked that.

Liked the way your thighs opened without hesitation the second his hands touched you. The heat of his fingers spread across the backs of your thighs before gripping tighter, pulling your pussy lips apart for him with an ease that made your pulse flutter embarrassingly fast.

The first touch of his mouth made your breath catch.

Then sharp inhale tore from your chest as he kissed you deeply, taking his time like he wanted to taste every reaction he pulled from you. The pleased hum he let out afterward sounded almost distracted. Like he couldn’t believe how much he liked this already.

“Katsuki…” you breathed shakily, fingers scrambling against the desk as he pressed another heated kiss against your clit.

The sound of his name nearly made him lose his mind.

His fingers pulls you apart even more allwhile keeping you exactly where he wanted while his mouth worked lower again. Impatient now, like he’d spent too long imagining this during the drive home and couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

He glanced up once —just once —your head tipped back as another breathless sound slipped from you, fingers tightening against the desk while the warmth of his mouth and the rough drag of his hands sent heat spiraling through your stomach.

“m'Fuck” he muttered, half under his breath.

Not even trying to sound smooth anymore.

The shaky inhale.

Your thighs twitching

The way your hips kept trying to chase more from him.

Another low, satisfied sound vibrated from his chest as his hands slid higher up your ass, keeping you spread like he's sure he's found that spot. He sucks at your clit and dips his tongue inside over and over. Flicking it faster and faster until you unravel in front him in real time.

The breathless little sounds slipping out every few seconds like you couldn’t stop them.

“katsss…” you hissed weakly.

That finally pulled him back up.

Yeah.

He really fucking liked hearing that.

You turned your head just enough to look over your shoulder and nearly lost your mind at the sight of him.

His lips were swollen. Chin damp.

And somehow the sight of a man like him looking aroused because of you made heat curl low in your stomach all over again.

Pretty girls usually acted nervous under attention like this.

You didn’t.

You just looked wrecked already.

The size of him alone made anticipation twist tightly in your stomach. Your thighs pressed together unconsciously at the sight of him palming his cock.

He noticed immediately.

A rough smirk tugged briefly at his mouth before fading again, attention dropping lower like he was admiring the exact effect he had on you.

God, you were eager.

“Open f’me,” he said low.

The roughness in his voice sent heat straight through you.

Your body obeyed instantly.

He liked that far too much.

He dragged his cock slowly over the mess he’d already made of you. Focused. Concentrated. Like he was trying to burn the sight into his memory.

The other hand held firmly on your ass before gripping it and pulling you apart again. You glanced back just in time to catch the way his jaw tightened, the subtle twitch in his expression betraying just how badly he was trying to stay composed.

The first push of him forward knocked the breath clean from your lungs. Fingers gripping the desk harder as the sheer intensity of him overwhelmed your thoughts all at once.

Too much in the best possible way.

Behind you, he let out a strained sound through clenched teeth, head dropping briefly forward like he felt it just as hard.

“Fuck!” he breathed.

Low. Blissed out.

The warmth. The tightness. The way your body reacted to him instantly—

When he finally moved again, the reaction ripped matching sounds from both of you almost instantly.

Your head tipped back. His grip now on your hips tightened hard enough to keep you still when your body tried chasing more on instinct and that was apparently all the encouragement he needed.

His pace turned rougher immediately —not sloppy, not rushed — precise. Like he was learning your body and already figuring out exactly which movements pulled those sounds from you.

A strained groan slipped from him as one hand tightened hard against your hip while the other slid upward, fingers threading into your hair before gripping firmly.

The pull arched your back beautifully.

“God damnit…” he hissed under his breath.

You’re warm. Tight. Responsive. Completely gone for him already.

You felt so good it was genuinely starting to mess with his head. The way your body kept tightening around him. The breathless sounds breaking apart every few seconds. How pretty you looked bent over his desk taking exactly what he gave you.

It was driving him insane.

“You like that?” he asked low, almost teasing but his voice barely sounded controlled anymore.

Before you could answer, his hand tightened in your hair again, guiding your head back while his rhythm stayed devastatingly exact —deep enough to keep pulling shaky gasps from your chest over and over.

Then something shifted.

A strange looseness against his hand.

At first neither of you noticed.

You were too lost in the feeling of him. Too consumed by the overwhelming heat twisting through your body.

But the next pull felt different.

Lighter.

His movements slowed slightly, brows furrowing as something soft slipped loose through his fingers.

Your wig came off completely.

Time stopped.

The room fell dead silent outside of both your uneven breathing.

His pace slowed.

Stopped.

Blonde strands mixed with auburn tumbled down as your real hair spilled over your shoulders, highlights catching beneath the dim office lighting.

He stared at it first.

Then at you.

And suddenly every blurred thought in his head started crashing together all at once.

Your voice.

Your face.

The familiarity that’d been clawing at him since the restaurant.

The hair.

Auburn and blonde streaks from your most recent photoshoot.

His entire body went still.

Then he says it... The sound of your real name leaving his mouth made anxiety slam into your chest instantly.

He’d already pulled back completely now, letting the wig slip from his hand onto the floor while he stared at you like his brain physically could not catch up.

Fuck fuck fuck.

This had literally never happened before but then again, you've never done this before either. You weren’t supposed to be recognizable tonight.

But your real hair framed your face now —unmistakable beneath the office lighting —and judging by the look on his face?

He knew exactly who you were.

Not just recognized.

Knew.

His realization hit harder when he pulled back completely, he stared at you like his brain physically could not process what was happening.

And honestly?

Neither could yours.

Your stomach twisted hard enough to make your body tense involuntarily.

“Shit,” he muttered immediately, stepping back.

He looked even more overwhelmed now than he did before. His chest rose sharply with each breath while one hand dragged through his messy blonde hair, ruby eyes fixed entirely on your face like looking away would somehow make this less real.

“I knew you looked familiar,” he said finally.

Quiet.

Dazed.

an: fuck I loved this… 100 likes and ill drop part 2 tomorrow

<< back PRT 2 >>

The way it hums through your body in a way that has something start to build in your lower stomach. You shift slightly.

Subtle.

It doesn’t help.

Your fingers curl against him, tightening without you meaning to, and you press your lips together under the helmet like that might steady you.

The road curves sharply before you’re ready for it. Your grip locks instantly, arms tightening around him as he leans into the turn like it’s nothing. Your heart jumps and instead of fear —something else rushes in to take its place.

You like it.

The speed, the drop, the way everything tilts for a second before leveling out again —it pulls a soft, breathy sound out of you before you can stop it. Not quite a gasp nor quite a laugh.

It surprises you and he feels it.

There’s a shift —not in you, in him. Subtle, controlled. The kind of adjustment that doesn’t ask, just reacts.

The bike answers it.

The engine deepens, louder now, the pull forward stronger as he rolls the throttle like he’s testing something —like he already knows the answer. Your grip tightens again, but this time it’s not reflex. You’re holding on because you want to.

And that seems to be all the confirmation he needs. He pushes it just a little more.

Not reckless. Not careless.

Confident.

Measured.

Like he knows exactly what you can handle —and how far to take it.

And this time—you laugh.

For real.

It slips out easy, unfiltered, carried off by the wind as your arms tighten fully around him, chest pressed against his back without hesitation.

Whatever space you were trying to keep before —gone.

You don’t think about it.

Don’t question it.

Don’t pull back.

You just hold on, letting the movement, the speed, the heat of him under your hands take over completely.

And for the first time since getting on you stop trying to control any of it.

— — -

The bike slows before coming to a full stop. The engine cuts, and the silence that follows feels louder than the ride itself.

For a second, you don’t move.

Then you pull the helmet off, dragging in a deep breath as the air hits your face.

“wow…” slips out of you, soft but full, your chest rising with it. You let out a long exhale, almost a quiet laugh under it, like your body hasn’t caught up yet. You’re still buzzing. Still a little unsteady in a way that has nothing to do with balance.

He takes the helmet from you, resting it over the handle before swinging off the bike with easy familiarity. When you glance at him, he’s smiling —really smiling this time, not the subtle almost-smirk from before.

And it does something to you.

The fact that he knows you liked it. That he can see it.

That’s when you notice it. Not just your heartbeat, not just the lingering rush still sitting under your skin —but something else.

Lower. Warmer.

The same feeling from earlier, but stronger now. Settled deeper between your legs. Your thighs press together slightly before you even realize you’re doing it.

Your stomach tightens.

Because now you’re aware of your own arousal in a way you can’t ignore. You go still on the seat, suddenly very aware of how wet you’ve become.

He notices changes.

Not all at once, but in pieces. The way you don’t move. The way your legs shift and then press together like you’re trying to control something —keep something at bay. The way you won’t look at him anymore.

“…You good?” he asks.

Your head nods a little too fast. “Yeah.”

But your eyes stay anywhere but his.

That’s enough for him.

He steps closer, one hand lifting slightly —not touching you, just there, waiting. Then he gestures for your hand.

A silent c’mon.

You glance at it, hesitate, then look away completely.

Your head shakes, small and quick. “I’m —I’m good,” you murmur, but your body doesn’t match it. Your knee bounces once, then again, and your thighs press tighter together like you’re trying to hold something in place.

That’s when it lands for him.

Understanding.

His gaze lingers for a second, dipping lower before coming back up to your face. “…mm,” he hums quietly.

And instead of calling you out he turns and swings back onto the bike —but this time, he’s facing you. The movement pulls your attention back to him immediately, your head lifting before you can stop it.

Now he’s closer than ever.

Your knees brush his, the space between you gone in a different way one of his hands settles lightly near your leg —not grabbing, not pulling —just there.

“hey” he says, quieter this time.

You swallow.

“you’re not the only one,” he adds.

Your breath stutters.

He doesn’t rush it. Doesn’t crowd you. Doesn’t make you feel cornered. He just lets that sit there between you.

“Been feelin’ it all mornin' too” he says, low and simple. Your fingers shift against the seat beneath you, your shoulders dropping just slightly, because that

—that helps.

You finally look at him properly again, and he’s already there, watching and waiting. His hand shifts just barely, his thumb grazing once against the side of your leg like he’s testing if you’ll pull away.

You don’t.

Something in his expression settles, like that was the only confirmation he needed. He leans in slowly, giving you time to see it coming, to decide what you want to do with it.

Close enough now that you feel it before anything actually happens. He stops just before the distance disappears. The same way he did at the table. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, that subtle pull of him, but he doesn’t close the gap. He just waits for you.

Your eyes lift to his, the color of them, the way they’re locked on you, steady and unreadable but not distant —it holds you there longer than it should. His scent wraps around you again, stronger now and everything about him feels closer, heavier, it pulls you in.

You don’t overthink it this time. You lean forward letting your lips meet his. At first, it’s soft. Just a press, testing, like you’re both feeling it out in real time.

Then his lips move.

Slow at first, deliberate, like he’s taking his time now that he has you here. There’s nothing rushed about it, nothing unsure. He kisses you like he meant to from the start, like he’s just been waiting for you to get here.

The way his lips moves against yours makes something loosen in your chest, and a quiet sound slips out before you can stop it. It’s soft, barely there, but it goes straight into him and that’s what changes it.

His head tilts, deepening the kiss, shifting the angle just enough that it’s no longer tentative. It’s fuller, warmer, pulling you in instead of meeting you halfway.

His hand slides down to your thigh, settling there with purpose. His fingers spread slightly, steady, and grounding.

Then it moves.

Slowly, dragging upward, not rushing, not asking, just there, firm and certain.

Your breath shifts as his palm travels higher, his thumb brushing along your side as his grip settles at your hip. It tightens just enough to guide you, to test how close you’ll let him pull you.

You don’t pull away —you lean into it.

His other hand follows, both of them working together now, easing you forward, closer, until there’s no space left between you.

The moment you settle on his lap, it hits all at once. Your hands find him without thinking, sliding up his shoulders, fingers curling into the back of his shirt as the kiss begins to shifts again.

Now you’re kissing him back.

Matching him, the way he moves his tongue and that pulls a low sound from him. Something rougher than before, his hands tightening where they hold you as he pulls you in just a little more, like he forgot for a second to pace himself.

Your hips move before you fully think about it, a small roll forward, instinctive, barely controlled. His grip tightens for a split second, sharp, like it surprised him.

Then he pulls back.

“—fuck…” slips out under his breath.

His forehead hovers close to yours, not quite touching, his hands still on you like he hasn’t decided if he’s about to pull you closer again or let you go.

And for the first time since you met him, he doesn’t look completely in control. His voice dips, a quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle under it. “I was doin’ real good—” he shakes his head slightly, breath still uneven, “—till you did that.”

He drags his thumb slowly across his bottom lip, like he’s still feeling it, like he hasn’t fully come back down yet.

You let out a small breath, still close enough that it brushes against his lips. Your hands tighten slightly on him again, like you need something to steady yourself —but you don’t move away.

“You say that like you’re gonna stop,” you murmur, your voice low, a little uneven.

There’s a pause.

“…are you?”

That does it.

A grin pulls at his mouth, slow and a little sharper than anything he’s shown you yet. “Careful,” he murmurs, his voice lower now.

“…you’re askin’ for it (y/n)"

His hands tighten once at your hips, not pulling you back in —but not letting you go either.

“My place?”

You nod with your lip catching between your teeth.

— — -

The ride back feels different.

Shorter.

Not because of the distance —but because your mind won’t stay still.

Every second is filled with snip-its of what just happened a few minutes ago. The engine cuts, he gets off first, steady like he always is, then reaches back for you without saying anything.

You take his hand.

The moment the door closes behind you the outside world disappears. He doesn’t even fully turn around before you’re already there. Your hand finds his first, fingers wrapping around his like you’re pulling him back into something unfinished.

He exhales once, low, like he understands exactly what you’re doing without you having to explain it.

You tug lightly at his hand.

Not impatient.

Just certain.

And that’s what breaks him.

His keys hit the counter behind him with a soft, careless sound, like whatever he was holding onto before this doesn’t matter anymore.

And then he turns fully into you. His arms come around you in one motion.

Firm.

It feels like everything from earlier just picks back up where it left off —no reset, no distance, no hesitation in between.

Just continuation.

His mouth finds yours again without warning, The kiss deepens almost immediately. Turning from slow recognition into something urgent, something that doesn’t feel like testing anymore —it feels like wanting.

His hand finds your waist, then shifts like he’s deciding there’s no point in pretending to be slow about any of this anymore.

You barely manage to pull back just long enough to tug your purse off your shoulder.

It slips into his hands before you even fully register giving it to him. You move with him as he turns, guiding you both closer to the counter without breaking the kiss. His hand plants your bag down, but only for a second —because his attention is already back on you.

Already on your mouth.

Already on everything else.

One hand finds the zipper of your sweater as he starts to pull it down slow and deliberate, while still kissing you like he refuses to give up either.

His mouth shifts from yours, trailing along your jaw, then lower, a long your neck in a way that makes your breath catch harder than you want it to. A soft, unsteady sound slips out of you before you can stop it.

It’s small but he hears it.

Feels it.

And it changes something in him.

His hand shifts, sliding from your waist to your lower back, fingers spreading then tightening on your ass. The sudden squeeze pulls a sharper sound from you, louder this time, less controlled.

—

That does it.

—

His grip firms, your breath stutters, and your hands move, sliding up under his shirt, needing to feel more of him, needing something solid to hold onto.

You move higher, like you can’t quite believe he feels like this in real life. Then he pulls back just enough to take his shirt off and look at you.

And that’s when you really see him.

No jacket.

No distance.

Just him.

It hits you immediately how much presence he actually takes up. How defined he is, how built he is in a way that isn’t exaggerated —it’s real. Earned. Lived in.

Your fingers pause against him.

And then your lip catches between your teeth without you meaning it to.

He sees it.

A small, knowing smirk pulls at his mouth.

Like he’s… satisfied.

Like he expected that reaction.

His hand catches yours gently, pulling it away from where it hesitated, and places it flat against the center of his chest.

“Feel that?” he murmurs against your mouth, voice low.

Your breath shifts as your palm settles there.

You nod slightly, but he doesn’t let your hand stay still. His hand slides over yours, guiding it lower with slow control, like he’s showing you instead of rushing you.

At the same time, his other hand comes up to your jaw, holding you there just long enough to keep your attention exactly where he wants it.

Then he kisses you again.

Deeper.

Like he’s trying to keep himself from losing the edge completely.

*His POV

He didn’t expect this to feel like this.

Not how fast it turned. Not how you feel against him like you already fit too well into something neither of you said out loud.

And definitely not the way you’re looking at him now —like you’re trying to understand him while still wanting more of him at the same time.

His hands slide down your sides, deliberate —thumbs hooking into the elastic part of your leggings, pulling down until you step out of it.

Then his gaze is back on you. Lips on your hips, then following your panty line until he gets right to the center. He kisses the front of it looking up at you.

Your head tips back against the wall as the sensation builds. He shifts it with his thumb but the scene in front of him is almost too much. Translucent threads of your warm slick already dampen your panties and his thumb. You’re glistening —he licks his lips and swallows.

Mesmerized by the sight in front of him. His lips are on you within seconds. Tongue kissing your pussy as if it was your mouth. He flattens his tongue next and licks from your warm tight little hole slurping up your wetness and twirling around your clit. The way he moves —measured, controlled —like he knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly what it’s doing to you.

Your hands don’t stay still. They find him —his hair, his shoulders —anything to ground yourself as your body starts to give in to it.

“Mmm—” the sound is louder than you expect. Seeing him from this angle, such an attractive man kneeling before you, servicing like this makes your stomach coil.

“sh— mm’fuck” you can’t even form coherent sentences when he slips his tongue inside and wiggles it. He’s got your fingers curling into his hair —pulling every time his tongue makes your pussy clench.

“mm God!” your hips roll forward to meet his tongue. Back arching completely off the wall as you tug on his hair. Then *smack* an encouraging slap to your ass and a moan follows after 

“damnit! I could come like that” he wills himself away from your sweetness and as soon as he’s standing straight —you make quick work of his belt, button, then zipper. You help him out of his shorts. 

There’s a pause when you look up at him from this new angle. You see his cock straining against his gray boxers and when your eyes meets his, he’s already looking down at you.

“We’ll have time for that” he says reaching down to pick you up. Your legs instinctively wraps around his torso. You pull his face to yours for another kiss. It’s even better than the last because tasting yourself on him is addicting 

“god.. i wana ride you s’fuckin bad” you mutter againt his mouth. That’s all he needs to hear.

He doesn’t stop moving until the couch catches him, dropping down with you still pulled tight against him, like letting go even for a second isn’t an option. His mouth stays on yours, deeper now, like he’s trying to take more of you with every second that passes.

His hands are squeezing your ass, spreading you apart and guiding your slick folds along his hard length. 

“Use me” he mutters against your ear, rough and impatient, like the words slip out before he can slow them down.

And just like that, your pussy clenches at the thought. You reach down angling his cock up. You shift to your feet in a low squat and slide down —taking every inch greedily until you bottom out. He fills you so so well, the stretch is exactly what you need.

When you start dragging that wet pussy up his cock and drop down —your pussy just cannot stop clenching around it. "Shit —you're tight!" his hips stutter just a bit to chase your pussy as it glides off. You moan at that, how eager he his to stay deep in you. Your hands find his shoulders for support and balance.

Then you move up again, bouncing on him as your pussy makes squelching noises making him moan. You're loving the way his jaw clenches, his heavy pants, the way his grip is firm on you, not guiding just there as if he's holding on for dare life.

"fuck I—" he gets cut off when you switch to reverse cowgirl. Hisses when he sees how perfect you look from behind on his cock like this. You go back to work on him, hips rising and falling as you lean over just enough so he can see where you're both connected. It brings an almost feral sound out of him causing another smack to your ass

"fuck you're —really somethin' else" he watches as your sopping cunt swallows him faster and faster. Losing it, as his head now tilts to the side watching all that gushing, squeezing and clenching. The sounds your ass makes as it claps against his lap.

“Yeah” he mutters, low, voice roughened out by everything building between you. “That’s enough.”

But it doesn’t sound like he wants it to stop.

His hands adjust you with purpose, lifting slightly, holding you closer in a way that changes the angle of everything—like he’s found exactly where he wants you to be.

Where you fit him best.

Your breath catches at the sudden change, but he doesn’t slow.

“Stay right there” he says heavier. Not a question. Something more like possession made verbal.

His eyes are locked on you like he’s committing this moment to memory —that lewd look on your face looking back at him like that.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he mutters, jaw tight, “and I’m not stoppin’ this once I start.”

There’s no threat in it.

Just certainty.

And something almost pleased underneath it.

You don’t answer fast enough.

Or maybe you can’t.

Because he’s spreading you again, thumbs on either side of your pussy lips. Thrusting with precision, intent on molding your pussy into the shape of his cock.

“suki fuck —fuck fuck”

“Yeah…” he exhales, like he’s steadying himself through you instead of away from you. “There it is.” His grip firms again —not changing you for control’s sake, but for precision. For him. Like he’s realized exactly what drives both of you now.

And when he speaks again, his voice drops lower, rough at the edges but undeniably intent:

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl” eyes locked on where he’s disappearing inside you —he’s barely holding himself together. The way he’s fucking you has your body tilting further with each lonnnggg deep thrust causing the air to be knocked out of you

“God I’m cummminngg” you cry “don’t stop! please fuck me” you’ve been reduced to a desperate pleading fucked out mess. He pulls you back on him, cock fully sheathed inside as your legs are between his.

One of his hands has now moved to pressing right under your tummy while the other hand snakes its way between your thighs, fingers rubbing your clit at just the right speed that has you squirting as he grinds his cock inside of you.

“Fuck yes —all over me baby” he doesn’t stop, not when you feel this good, not when he feels you leaking this much. Instead —he licks just below your ear, a long stripe to the shell of it causing you to gasp out loud, making your legs to shake, your pussy to flutter on his cock as he cums inside of you. Filling you with his hot cum, breathing hard as he taps on your clit.

A rough chuckle brushes against your ear.

He mutters quietly “how long do you need? —cause I’m not even close to being done with you”

taglist: @mspainter08 @prettydivinegirl @armeenix