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Shane doesn't notice anything at first.

Well, that's a lie. He notices that the house looks dark from the outside. Which is... strange, because you asked him to come over to your house after his studio session, since you knew how tired he'd be and on his birthday of all days.

Meanwhile, while he's slowly walking from the driveway to the front of the house, you and all of your friends, his friends, mutual friends, everyone, are all hiding in different corners of the living room waiting to surprise him as he walks in.

Slowly, he opens the door to the dark house, the sound of his shoes so loud in the oddly quiet room.

"....Hello? Y/N?"

The second the door clicks shut behind him, you turn on the lights with a click of a button.

"SURPRISE!" everyone yells in unison.

Shane nearly drops the guitar hanging off of one of his shoulders. His heart actually almost stops for a second, partly from being startled from the yelling, partly from the amount of people, and mostly from- oh my god she did all of this for me.

He looks around at the banner, the string lights, his favorite song playing through the speakers, and those ridiculously adorable guitar shaped cookies on the table.

You remembered. Well, of course you remembered, but you really remembered. Remembered his birthday, sure, but remembered his favorite colors, favorite songs, favorite cookie flavors, favorite everything and you did this. You did this all for him, and he is sure he is going to combust.

Everyone starts crowding around him at once, laughing, hugging him, talking over each other, and Shane just mumbles half-brained thank yous as he stands there taking it all in because there's so much happening all at once, and he looks around the room and- you.

Wonderful amazing you, standing near the arched doorway of the kitchen, watching him with the warmest, most heartfelt smile, looking at him like this was worth every secret and every hour you spent putting it together.

Once everyone is out of the way you rush over like you'd been holding back for so long and practically pounce on him as you hug him tighter than ever and wrap your arms around his neck. His face gets buried in between your hair and the crook of your neck and- yes. There it is. That sweet, soft, familiar smell of you that just makes everything feel like he's in wonderland. And then your soft voice saying, "Happy birthday, sweet boy" in his ear and he could cry.

"Thank you," he squeaks in the cutest happiest voice and now you feel like you could combust too because how is he just so cute. You pull back and look at his sparkly eyes and parted lips and smile up at him as you gently cup his face.

"Thank you so- so much, I- you-", he takes a second to breathe. "You didn't have to do all this for me, I can't believe you did all this."

Your expression softens a bit. "Of course I did this, baby, I love you. I love you so much and I want to show it to you. Besides, 21 is a big one," you say with a giggle.

For the next hour Shane's just floating. People are singing along with him to his favorite songs, telling stories about the first time they saw him playing at a small venue in Brooklyn, or some funny story about pranks he pulled as a child, passing him drinks.

You move through the room socializing, checking up on Shane often to refill his drink or bring him more food. His heart warms every time he sees you because you're just treating him so good.

When the music begins to slow, and people start settling down a little bit, you move to the hallway and signal a little 'come here' with your finger. He curiously, but happily, walks over to you. Settling his hands on your hips and slowly pulling you close, he speaks quietly.

"I can't thank you enough for this. I was beginning to think everyone had forgotten it was my birthday, cause no one was texting me anything. But- but everyone was here and it's all because of you and I- I just- thank you."

Your heart swells at his words and the pure happiness in his voice. You lean up and place a gentle yet passionate kiss on his lips.

"You don't have to thank me, baby. Really. I love you, and I want to make you happy, and treat you how you deserve to be treated."

His eyes get all sparkly and pretty the way they always do when you say these sweet, precious things to him. He leans down for a kiss, his lips capturing yours with so much love. After the two of you pull back, he begins to grab your hand to walk back to the living room where all the guests are waiting for him to come back.

"Wait- before you go, I have a little something," you say, with a little knowing smirk on your face.

Shane's brows furrow, looking at you a little nervously because of your smirk. Slowly, you reach your hand down to your pocket and pull out a tiny envelope. Now he's even more confused because huh? You hand it to him slowly, and leaning up to his ear, you whisper. "I hope you like it."

You slowly begin walking out of the hallway, leaving him there alone with that envelope. He stands there, confused, and heart racing a little bit at the tone of your whisper. Making eye contact across the room, you nod at him, signaling to him that its okay for him to open it now.

He opens it, and slides out a printed photo and oh.

Shane's brain whites out. Completely.

Its a polaroid of you. Its you. Wearing a black lacy set that makes his brain go fuzzy. You're looking at the camera with that look in your eyes, one hand gently laying at the top of your right breast. He looks up at you, cheeks warming, making eye contact across the room. His lips are parted and you can't help but giggle to yourself because every single time you imply anything sexual with him, he gets so flustered and its the cutest and simultaneously hottest thing ever.

He looks back down at the picture and holds it in one hand before pulling out another picture- oh lord.

You only have the panties on now, of the black lacy set from before, and you're sitting on your knees on the floor of- wait is that his room? When did you- how did you- when did you have time to secretly take these in his room. You're covering your tits with one arm; you tease, he thinks.

His cock twitches to life in his pants, this is evil. There's still probably at least another hour left of this party. He looks up at you again, and there you are, with too many clothes on, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen looking at him with a knowing smirk. You know how crazy you're driving him right now, how flustered you're making him, and he knows that that is your favorite part.

You smirk and nod your head towards the envelope, telling him silently that there is more. He takes a deep breath before taking out the last picture, and he is sure he is going to die.

It's you, naked, completely naked, on his bed- his bed. Legs spread, exposing every inch of you, every inch that he loves and adores so much, and you're biting your lip in that sexy way that you do and holy fuck. His hands are shaking so bad he almost drops the photos. He shoves them back into the envelope, throat working, trying to swallow, and he can feel his pulse everywhere; in his neck, his wrists, down there, and he is hard, embarrassingly, achingly hard.

And you just smile. That wicked, teasing smile.

For the rest of the night Shane's a complete wreck. A disaster. Every conversation derails because he keeps thinking about the photos- you. Youyouyouyouyouyou, on his bed, for him, and he's so hard it hurts and he can't focus on anything. He keeps glancing over at you, jaw tight, fingers anxiously drumming against thigh. Twice, he has to adjust himself in his jeans when he thinks no one is looking, trying to get comfortable, but of course you're looking at him, and both times you notice. The smile on your face when you do definitely does not help his case.

He feels like a mess. His jeans are way, way, too tight, and every time he looks at you he remembers how you looked in those pictures, especially the last one, completely bare for him, for him, and his brain shorts out again.

You find yourself in the kitchen at some point, while all the guests are now in the living room, refilling some snack trays. Shane nervously walks in and leans on the kitchen counter.

"Hi...," he says, blush creeping back on his face because he just cannot look at you normally right now.

"Hey, birthday boy. You havin' fun?"

"Yeah. So much fun, I really can't thank you enough."

You put down the snack tray in your hands and step closer to him. His eyes follow you as you inch close to him and lean on the counter right in front of him.

"You don't have to thank me."

He looks down at you, breath a little uneven.

"What's wrong, baby? You seem so tense," you ask, and his heart stutters at that sultry, teasing voice that you put on when you're turned on for him.

"I'm, um... just- just distracted."

"Distracted? By what?" you tease further, stepping so close that your chests are touching, and trace lines on his collarbones.

He takes a deep breath. "You know what, Y/N."

"You liked my pictures, huh?"

He gulps and he tries, he tries so hard to speak, but the way you're so close, and touching him so gently, and talking to him like that, is all just driving him absolutely crazy.

He just nods quickly in response.

"Mmm. I know you did. They work you up the way I wanted?"

The way you wanted. Well, of course you wanted to work him up with those pictures, why else would you have taken them? But hearing that confirmation that you took those and gave them to him solely to turn him on? It's definitely not helping him feel more.. comfortable.

Again, he nods, his cheeks heating up even more.

"Good. I'll see you later. Go have fun at your party, baby," you tease, before turning around and walking out of the kitchen, making sure to sway your hips just a little extra to show off your figure to him in your little miniskirt, that you know he loves.

His breath stutters further as he watches you walk out. He barely composes himself enough to get through the last hour or so of the party, and walks out behind you.

----

People start leaving around one in the morning. Shane forces out some hugs and goodbyes, trying desperately to focus, but he's distracted.

He's too busy watching you say goodbye to everyone, the way you smile, the way your hair sways around, the way you moves, the way that tank top clings to your waist and your breasts so tightly, the way that miniskirt is just long enough to tease, the way he wants to- click.

The door clicks shut on the last guest and the silence that follows feels heavy.

You turn, and Shane is still standing by the wall where he's been trying to look casual for the last 20 minutes.

"Come here," you say softly, and your voice does that thing- that low, sexy thing, and Shane's breath hitches because he knows that tone. He's thought about that tone. In the shower. At 2 AM. In his bed with his hand around himself.

He slowly walks over to you and stops just short of contact. You pull him close. Your hands slide up his chest and he makes a small sound because he's already hard from the photos, and your proximity and the fact that you're actually touching him like this is not helping.

"Let me take care of you tonight."

"You... want to?"

"Of course I want to. I always want to. Plus, it's your birthday, after all."

He just looks at you, taking in the intensity of the sight of you in front of him, teasing him like this.

You take his hand, threading your fingers through his with a gentle squeeze, and lead him down the hallway. The house is quiet now—just the two of you, the distant hum of the refrigerator, and the thud of Shane's heart that you can practically hear from how hard it's pounding.

"Come with me, birthday boy," you murmur, glancing back at him with that wicked smile that makes his knees feel unsteady.

He follows, obedient and flushed, his fingers tight around yours. When you reach your bedroom; the room he'd recognize anywhere but somehow feels different now, charged with something electric You turn to face him. The door clicks shut behind you, sealing you both in this private little world.

"Hi," you whisper, stepping close enough that your bodies are flush against each other. You can feel how fast he's breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

"Hi," he breathes back, eyes wide and dark, pupils blown wide with want.

You reach up slowly, deliberately, and find the first button of his shirt. Your fingers work it open with agonizing patience, revealing a sliver of his chest. Shane swallows hard, throat bobbing.

"You're so handsome," you say softly, your voice like honey, thick and sweet. "Did you know that? Did you know how good you look tonight? All dressed up for your party, looking so pretty."

"I- " he stutters, cheeks flushing pink. "I don't- I'm not- "

"Shh," you soothe, moving to the next button. "You are. You're so pretty, Shane. My pretty boy." You pop another button open, your knuckles brushing against his warm skin. "Did you like my pictures, baby? Did they make you think about me?"

His breath hitches sharply, and he nods, quick and jerky. "Y-yeah. God, yes. I couldn't- I couldn't stop thinking about them. About you."

"Good," you purr, working on the third button. His shirt is hanging open now, exposing his lean torso. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone, then another to the hollow of his throat. "That's exactly what I wanted. I wanted you thinking about me all night. Wanted you hard for me."

"Y/N," he whimpers, and the sound goes straight between your legs.

"Mm?" You look up at him through your lashes, fingers toying with the last button. "What is it, sweet boy?"

"You're- " he swallows, trying to find words, his hands hovering like he wants to touch you but doesn't know where to put them. "You're evil. You're so evil. Teasing me like that all night."

You giggle, a low, teasing sound, and finally undo the last button. You push his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. "Am I? Was it mean of me to give you those pictures? To make you hard when you couldn't do anything about it?"

"Yes," he breathes, but he's nodding, eyes drinking you in. "Yes, it was it was so mean. I was- I kept having to hide it. I kept thinking about you, about your body, and I couldn't focus on anything."

"Poor baby," you coo, your hands sliding down his bare arms, feeling the goosebumps rising on his skin. "You must have been so frustrated. All night, thinking about me naked on your bed. Thinking about what you wanted to do to me."

Shane makes a small, desperate noise in the back of his throat. "I wanted- I wanted to touch you. Wanted to- to feel you. God, you looked so beautiful in those pictures. You always look beautiful but seeing you like that, on my bed, for me.."

"For you," you confirm, stepping back just enough to reach behind yourself. You find the zipper of your skirt and pull it down slowly, watching his eyes track the movement with rapt attention. "All for you, Shane. Only ever for you."

The skirt slips off your hips and pools at your feet, and you waste no time peeling off your tank top either, leaving you standing before him in nothing but your bra and panties- black lace, matching the set from the photos, the ones you know he hasn't stopped thinking about. Shane's breath actually leaves him in a rush, his mouth falling open slightly.

"Oh," he whispers, reverent and wrecked. "Oh, you're- you're so-"

"So what?" you tease, stepping close again and reaching for his belt. Your fingers work the buckle, then the button of his jeans. "Tell me, baby."

"Beautiful," he manages, his voice cracking slightly. "You're so beautiful. I can't- I don't deserve- you did all this for me, the party and the pictures and now you're- you're standing here and you look like-"

"Like what?" You tug his jeans down, kneeling slightly to help him step out of them. When you stand back up, he's towering over you in just his boxers, and you can see the outline of his erection straining against the fabric, hard and heavy.

"Like an angel," he breathes, and his hands finally find the courage to touch you, settling tentatively on your waist. 

Your heart melts a little, but you keep your teasing smile in place. "An angel? Is that what you think I am?" You step impossibly closer, pressing your palms flat against his chest, feeling his heart hammering wildly beneath your touch. "Do angels do this?"

You rise up on your toes and press your mouth to his jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the sharp line of it, then down the column of his throat. Shane's head falls back slightly, exposing more of his neck to you, and he makes this soft, breathless sound that you want to bottle up and keep forever.

"Do they touch you like this?" you murmur against his skin, your hands sliding down, down, over his stomach, feeling the muscles jump and twitch beneath your fingers. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, but you don't pull them down yet. Just tease, just trace the edge where fabric meets skin.

"Y/N," he whines, and it's high and needy and so beautifully desperate. "Please."

"Please what, baby?" You kiss his shoulder, his collarbone, the hollow at the base of his throat. You can feel him trembling, vibrating with tension, and you haven't even really touched him yet. "Use your words. Tell me what you want."

"I want...." he starts, then stops, biting his lip. His hands grip your waist tighter, fingers digging in just slightly. "I want you to...to touch me. Please. I've been- I've been thinking about it all night and I'm so...horny, I'm so hard it hurts and I just.. I need you."

"Need me?" You pull back just enough to look at him, your hand finally, finally drifting lower to cup him through his boxers. He's heavy and hot and so rigid against your palm, and when you give him a gentle squeeze, Shane's knees actually buckle. He stumbles forward, catching himself against you, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"Oh my god," he gasps, his hips jerking involuntarily into your touch. "Oh my god..."

"Is this what you need?" you whisper, stroking him slowly through the fabric, feeling him twitch and throb against your palm. "Is this what you were thinking about all night? My hand on you? My mouth?"

"Yes," he whimpers, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. "Yes, all of it, everything. I thought about your hands and your mouth and, um... and- b-being inside you and I just- I couldn't stop. You're so- you're so mean and so pretty and I couldn't do anything about it."

You smile against his hair, your other hand coming up to stroke down his back, soothing and teasing all at once. "Poor baby," you coo, your hand still working him slowly, feeling the damp spot forming where he's leaking. "All worked up with nowhere to go. But you're here now, aren't you? And I'm going to take such good care of you."

"Please," he begs, and the sound is so sweet, so broken. "Please, I need-"

"What do you need, Shane?" You press a kiss to his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. "Tell me exactly."

"I need..." he swallows hard, his hips rocking into your touch now, seeking friction. "I need you to... keep touching me. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Never," you promise, and then you gently, slowly, guide him backward toward the bed. He stumbles, compliant and dazed, until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. With one hand still stroking him through his boxers, you push lightly on his chest. "Sit down, baby."

He collapses onto the bed, looking up at you with those wide, dark eyes, his chest heaving. You crawl onto the bed after him, prowling up his body until you're hovering over him, your knees on either side of his hips. You can feel his erection pressing against your thigh, insistent and demanding.

"Hi," you whisper, leaning down to kiss him properly this time. Your lips meet his, soft and slow, and he melts into it immediately, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You deepen the kiss, your tongue sliding against his, tasting the faint sweetness of the birthday cake he'd eaten earlier. When you pull back, you're both breathless.

"You're wearing too many clothes," Shane says suddenly, his voice quiet and shy, his eyes darting away from yours. "I mean, you don't have to- but I was just thinking- um-"

"Thinking what?" You tease, sitting back on your heels so you're straddling his thighs. You reach behind yourself and unhook your bra, letting the straps slide down your shoulders slowly, holding the cups in place with one arm. "Were you thinking about my tits, Shane? Is that what you want to see?"

His face goes absolutely scarlet, his eyes snapping back to you despite his obvious embarrassment. "Y-yes..."

You lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead. "It's okay to want things, baby. It's okay to tell me." You pull back slightly, holding his gaze as you slowly, deliberately, let the bra fall away. "You can look. I want you to look."

Shane's breath actually catches in his throat, his eyes going wide and dark as they drop to your chest. "Oh," he whispers, reverent and wrecked. "Oh, you're- they're- you're perfect."

"You like them?" You arch your back slightly, presenting yourself to him, feeling powerful and beautiful under his gaze.

"I love them," he breathes, and his hands come up, hovering uncertainly in the air like he's not sure if he's allowed to touch. "Can I..?"

"Yes," you encourage, taking his wrists and guiding his hands to your breasts. "Touch me, Shane. Touch me however you want."

His hands are warm and slightly calloused from playing guitar, and when they close around you, he makes this soft, awed sound in the back of his throat. He's gentle at first, almost too gentle, just cupping and kneading softly, his thumbs brushing experimentally over your nipples.

"That feels good," you murmur, rocking your hips slightly against his thighs. "Your hands feel so good on me."

"They're so soft," he marvels, his voice hushed and amazed. "And your- they're so pretty. You're so pretty. I can't believe you're letting me- that you're here with me like this."

"Of course I'm here," you lean down to kiss him again, your breasts pressing against his chest, skin to skin. "Where else would I be? You're my favorite person, Shane. My perfect boy."

He whimpers into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your waist again, holding you close. You kiss him deeply, your tongues tangling, and then you pull back with a wicked smile.

"But you know what?" You slide down his body, your hands trailing down his stomach, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers. "You're still wearing too many clothes too. And I think..." you tug the fabric down slowly, revealing him inch by inch, "...it's time we fix that."

Shane lifts his hips to help you, and you pull his boxers all the way down his legs, tossing them aside. And then he's naked, completely naked, laid out before you like a feast. He's beautiful; slim and lean, with defined hip bones and a trail of dark hair leading down to where he's hard and flushed and curving up toward his stomach.

You crawl back up, settling between his legs, and you can see the moment insecurity flickers across his face. He tries to close his legs slightly, his hands moving to cover himself, his cheeks burning.

"Hey," you say softly, catching his wrists and gently pinning them to the bed at his sides. "None of that. You're beautiful, Shane. Every part of you. Don't hide from me."

"I just-" he stutters, not meeting your eyes. "I just get shy. I know it's silly but I just- I want to be good for you and look good for you and I worry that-”

"You are good for me. You always are, and you always look good," you insist, releasing his wrists to cup his face, forcing him to look at you. "You're perfect. Look at you." Your other hand drifts down, wrapping around him, and he gasps, his hips jerking. "Look at how hard you are for me. Look at your big, pretty cock. Can see how much you want me. None of it’s silly, baby. It’s hot. You're so hot."

"Really?" He asks, his voice small and hopeful.

"Really," you confirm, and then you lean down and press a kiss to the tip of him, just a soft, gentle press of lips, and Shane's whole body jerks like he's been shocked.

"Oh god," he chokes out, his hands flying to your hair, not pulling, just resting there, trembling. "Oh god, your mouth-"

"You like that?" You kiss him again, then drag your tongue along the underside, from base to tip, tasting the salt of his arousal.

"Yes," he gasps, his head falling back against the pillows, his chest heaving. "Yes, I- I love it. I love everything you do to me."

You hum against him, the vibration making him moan, and then you take him into your mouth properly, sinking down slowly, your tongue pressing against the vein on the underside. He's thick and heavy on your tongue, and you can feel him throbbing, feel the way his whole body is tense and strung tight.

"Y/N," he whines, high and desperate, his hips stuttering like he wants to thrust but is holding himself back. "Oh my god, oh my god, your mouth feels so- so warm and wet and I can feel your tongue and it's too much, it's so good."

You pull back slightly, swirling your tongue around the head, your hand coming up to stroke what you can't fit in your mouth. You look up at him through your lashes, watching his face, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open, his cheeks flushed pink. He's gorgeous like this, completely undone.

"Does it feel good, baby?" You ask, your voice rough, and then you take him deep again, hollowing your cheeks.

"So good," he sobs, his hands tightening in your hair, his thighs trembling on either side of you. "So good, I'm gonna- I'm getting close, I can't…I can't hold it, I'm sorry, I’m-”

You hum your encouragement, your hand working him faster, your head bobbing in a steady rhythm. You can feel him swelling, getting harder, can taste more of his precome on your tongue, and you know he's right there, teetering on the edge.

"Y/N," he gasps, warning and plea all at once. "Y/N, I'm gonna- I'm gonna cum, fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm- oh god, oh god-"

You keep going, your pace steady and sure, and then he's coming apart beneath you with a choked, whimpering cry, spilling into your mouth in hot, thick pulses. You swallow around him, taking everything he gives you, your hand stroking him through it, prolonging his pleasure until he's wrung out and trembling.

When you finally pull back, licking your lips, Shane is a mess. He's breathing hard, his chest heaving, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his eyes glazed and unfocused. He looks at you with something like awe, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek.

"That was…" he starts, his voice wrecked and hoarse. "You…you didn't have to- I mean… thank you. That was… that was incredible."

You crawl up his body, settling over him again, and you can feel him still sensitive, still twitching slightly beneath you. "Did you like it?" You ask, even though you know the answer.

"I loved it," he breathes, his hands coming up to stroke down your back. "I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you too," you smile, leaning down to kiss him softly. He can taste himself on your lips, and he doesn't pull away, just kisses you deeper, his tongue sliding against yours.

When you pull back, you're both breathless, and you can feel the heat between your own legs, the ache that's been building all night. You rock your hips against him, feeling the wetness of your panties, and Shane groans, his hands gripping your waist.

“You wanna know something, Shane?”

“W-what..?”

"Did you know," you whisper, your voice low and sultry, "that sucking your cock made me so, so wet?"

His eyes go wide, his mouth falling open. "R-really?"

"Mm," you hum, sitting back and sliding your hand down your own body, over your stomach, to the waistband of your panties. "Want to see?"

Shane nods frantically, his eyes locked on your hand. "Yes- yes, please, I want to see. I want to see how wet I made you."

You hook your thumbs into the sides of your panties and slowly, torturously slowly, peel them down your legs. You kick them off, and then you're naked too, straddling him, and you can see his eyes drop to where you're exposed, where you're glistening and swollen and ready for him.

"Look at that," you murmur, dragging one finger through your folds, collecting your arousal, holding it up for him to see. "All for you, baby. You did this to me. Just thinking about you, about your pretty cock in my mouth, about how good you taste."

"Oh my god," he whispers, his eyes fixed on your hand, on the evidence of your desire. "You're…. so wet. That’s… that's for me?"

"All for you," you confirm, and then you reach down and wrap your hand around him again, and- oh.

He's hard again.

Already.

You stroke him slowly, watching his face, watching the mixture of pleasure and embarrassment flicker across his features. He tries to close his legs again, tries to hide, his cheeks flaming red.

"I-” he stutters, his voice high and flustered. "I… I don't know why I’m already… I just…”

"Shh," you soothe, your hand still working him, feeling him harden fully in your grip. "It's okay. It's good. You want me again, that's all. You want me so much you can't help it."

"I do," he admits, his voice small and shy. "I want you so much. I always want you. I'm sorry, I know I just- I just came but I can't- I can't stop wanting you."

"Don't apologize," you lean down to kiss him, soft and sweet. "I love that you want me. I want you too, Shane. I want you inside me. Can I- can I ride you?"

"Yes," he breathes immediately, his hands gripping your hips. "Yes, please, I want it. I want to feel you. Please."

You reach between you, positioning him at your entrance, and then you slowly, slowly sink down onto him. The stretch is perfect, burning so good, and you both moan in unison as you take him to the hilt.

"Oh god," Shane whimpers, his head falling back, his hands tight on your waist. "Oh god, you're so- you're so tight and warm and wet and I can feel… I can feel you around me and-"

"So good," you finish for him, your hands bracing on his chest. "You fill me up so perfectly, baby. You feel incredible."

You start to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding down against him. Shane's mouth falls open, his eyes squeezed shut, his whole body tense with pleasure.

"Look at me," you whisper, and he obeys, his eyes fluttering open, hazy and dark. "Keep your eyes on me, Shane. Watch me fuck you."

"Y/N," he gasps, his hips bucking up to meet your movements. "I can see- I can see you taking me, can see where we're connected and it's- it's the hottest thing I've ever seen. You're so beautiful. You're so, so good to me."

"Only the best for my birthday boy," you pant, your pace quickening, your hips snapping down harder. "You deserve to be treated good, Shane. Deserve to feel good. Tell me how it feels."

"It feels…" he cuts off with a moan as you angle your hips just right, grinding against him. "It feels like…like I'm gonna break apart. Like I'm too full of feeling and I can't…I can't hold it all. I’m so deep inside you, I can feel you everywhere."

"Good," you purr, leaning down to kiss him, messy and desperate. "Let go, baby. Let go for me. I'm gonna make you feel so good."

You ride him harder now, your breasts bouncing with the movement, your hands gripping his shoulders for leverage. Shane's hands slide from your waist to your hips, his fingers digging in, guiding your movements, helping you slam down onto him.

"Come for me," you demand, your own pleasure building, coiling tight in your belly. "Come inside me, Shane. I want to feel it. Want to feel you fill me up."

"Oh god," he sobs, his whole body arching off the bed, his muscles taut and trembling. "I'm gonna- I'm- Y/N, I'm gonna-”

"Let go," you whisper, and then you reach between you, your fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles, and that sends you both over the edge.

Shane comes with a wailing cry, his hips jerking up hard, his hands pulling you down onto him as he spills inside you, hot and deep. The feeling of him pulsing, of him filling you, triggers your own orgasm, and you clench around him, your vision going white at the edges, your whole body shaking with the force of it.

"Shane," you gasp, your voice breaking, your movements slowing but not stopping, drawing out every last drop of pleasure for both of you. "Oh god, Shane..”

"Y/N," he whimpers, his voice wrecked, his arms coming up to wrap around you, pulling you down against his chest. "Oh my god, oh my god, that was.. that was-”

"Shh," you breathe, your face buried in his neck, your body still trembling with aftershocks. "I've got you. I've got you, baby."

You stay like that for a long moment, connected and breathless, his arms tight around you, your heart hammering against his. When you finally summon the strength to move, you lift yourself off him carefully, both of you wincing slightly at the loss, and collapse onto the bed beside him.

Shane immediately rolls toward you, his arm draping over your waist, his face nuzzling into your hair. "That was," he whispers, his voice still hoarse, "the best birthday present ever."

You giggle, turning your head to kiss his forehead. "Yeah? Better than the party?"

"The party was amazing," he insists, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your hip. "But this…you- I mean, you're always the best part. I love you so much. Thank you for.. for everything. For the party and the photos…and this. For loving me."

"I'll always love you," you promise, snuggling closer into his warmth. "And there's plenty more where that came from. Happy birthday, sweet boy."

He smiles against your hair, his arm tightening around you. "Best birthday ever," he mumbles, already half-asleep, sated and happy and yours.