christophersangel

You’re kneeling between Chris’s thighs in the soft glow of his bedroom lamp, his oversized hoodie rucked up just enough to show the sharp cut of his hips. His sweats are shoved down to mid-thigh and his cock—fuck, it’s bigger than you expected—stands thick and heavy against his stomach, flushed dark at the tip, already glistening. He’s breathing like he’s run a mile, chest heaving under the fabric, one hand white-knuckling the sheets while the other hovers uselessly near your hair like he’s scared to touch you.

“Baby—wait, you really don’t have to—” His voice cracks hard, higher than usual, and his glasses are already sliding down the bridge of his nose. He tries to push them up with trembling fingers; they slip right back. “I mean—shit, I’ve never—nobody’s ever—” You don’t let him finish the sentence. You wrap your fingers around the base, barely able to close them fully and give one slow, firm stroke. His whole body jerks like you’ve electrocuted him. A broken, embarrassing whimper spills out immediately, loud and raw.

“Oh fuck—oh my god—” He slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes squeezing shut behind the crooked lenses, but it’s too late; the sound’s already out, needy and wrecked.

You lean in and lick a long, wet stripe from base to tip and his hips buck hard before he can stop them, his cock smearing precum across your tongue. Another high, desperate whine rips from his throat—almost a sob—and his glasses finally tumble off completely, clattering onto the mattress. He doesn’t even try to grab them this time; he’s too busy trying not to come apart.

You take the head into your mouth, sucking slowly and filthily, tongue swirling over the slit. Chris’s head thumps back against the headboard with a dull thud. “Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—your mouth—” His words dissolve into a string of messy, humiliated little noises: sharp gasps, shaky hums, and pathetic keens every time you sink deeper. Drool starts leaking from the corner of your lips; you don’t care. You hollow your cheeks and slide down further, throat relaxing as you force more of his thick length inside.

He’s losing it. Completely. His thighs tremble violently on either side of your head, hips stuttering up in tiny, helpless thrusts he can’t control. “I’m—shit, I’m sorry—I can’t—ngh—it’s too much One hand flies to your hair, not guiding, just gripping like he needs an anchor. His other fist slams against the mattress once, twice, knuckles white. “You’re so—fuck—so warm—so wet—oh god—”

You hum deliberately around him, the vibration punching a choked, pornographic moan out of him. His cock throbs hard against your tongue, swelling even thicker. Saliva drips down your chin, messy and obscene; his precum mixes with it, slick and salty. He’s babbling now – half apologies, half pleas – voice cracking on every syllable. “Gonna—baby please—I’m gonna cum—can’t hold it—fuck—your throat—” His abs clench so hard you feel them jump under your palm. You take him deeper, nose brushing the coarse hair at his base and that’s it.

He cums with a strangled, embarrassingly loud cry—back arching off the bed, hips jerking uncontrollably as he spills down your throat in hot, thick pulses. You swallow around him, milking every shuddering spurt until he’s whimpering from overstimulation, legs shaking, entire body flushed red from his neck to his ears.

When you finally pull off slow and deliberate, letting your tongue drag along the sensitive underside, he collapses back against the pillows, chest heaving, glasses forgotten somewhere in the sheets. His cock twitches once more against his stomach, still half-hard and shiny with your spit.

He covers his face with both hands, mortified. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles into his palms, voice wrecked and hoarse. “I—I came so fast. And I—fuck, I made so much noise. I’m sorry, I—” You crawl up his body, straddling his hips, and gently pry his hands away. His face is scarlet, eyes glassy, and lips swollen from biting them. You kiss him slow and dirty, letting him taste himself on your tongue.

He groans into your mouth, embarrassed all over again—but his arms wrap around you tight anyway, pulling you down until you’re pressed chest-to-chest. “Next time,” he whispers against your lips, still trembling, “I swear I’ll last longer” You smile.. “We’ll see.”

your whimpers grew louder with each snap of chris’ hips against yours, drilling into you so roughly he’s turned you into a drooling mess. it was sickenly hot, your body was sticky and sore but that didn’t stop you from meeting his thrusts halfway, your ass jiggling off his skin, earning a hungry low growl from him — it was perfectly round and meaty, just the way he likes 'em.

“fuuuck, there we go,” the bed creeks while the headboard thuds off the wall with chris’ forced, hateful thrusts that have you gasping for air. a spank that left your skin burning, echoes through the small space. how did you manage to step foot inside his apartment? that'll remain an unsolved mystery . “this tight little cunt is gonna make me break the fuckin’ bed.”

“nghh — i hate you,” sharp fingernails dig into the fabric so deeply they look like a cat had teared it up with its claws. ongoing months of petty and angry bickering led you to this moment — taking it out in his room, in his bed, damping the sheets of his comforter with sweet wetness that came from you and dripped down his balls along with his arousal. he bitterly laughs, almost mocking you, but it doesn't refrain the heat that pools in your belly. "hate you so— mphm— bad."

"i know you do but this sweet pussy doesn't."

he's buried deep into your puffy folds, cheeks burning with embarrassment as the filthy squelch of your soppy hole that suctions his fat cock, rings in your ear. your moans come out breathless, broken while he fills you to the brim. it shouldn't feel this incredible. remarkable. a thrill that'll change each others past feelings

he fucks you in a deeper angle once his sweaty chest lays on your back, his veiny arm snaking around your neck, lifting your head and keeping you sandwiched between his sculptured bicep. "don't you worry, though," a hiss flees past his lips, feeling the sting of your nails now stabbing his doughy skin. how sick and twisted of him that he enjoys the pain. "i hate you so — thrust — fucking — thrust — bad."

"you piss me off, y'know?" each plow hammers the wooden frame into the wall, a memory you'll leave behind — marks. your hole clamps tight. way too tight. you milk his cock as you gush. another orgasm leaving you both breathless. "might jus' have to keep you though."

"my cock loves her."

chris retracts, sensitized tip rests along your entrance, eyes locked onto his cum oozing out of your abused cunt. he's marked what he's hated, what he's secretly wanted — you.

© 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗌𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗍