🕯Hello Lovie🕯

he shoves his phone back into his pocket and watches the screen of his laptop as his pretty, soft neighbor cries herself to sleep, the shaking of her body and muffled sounds of her sobs growing fainter and fainter until she goes still, her white noise machine having apparently lulled her to sleep. poor thing, she must've run into that big ugly brute while she was out and about, he must've frightened her terribly, and kyle can't help but kick himself for being away- too busy giddily hiding the cameras and microphones nikolai's contact had sold him while daydreaming about moving his few personal belongings into her flat.

"i'm sorry, babes." he whispers to the image on his screen, fingers tracing over the exaggerated curves of her ass and thighs. "i'll fix this. i've got you."

it'll take some work to get her walls to come down a bit more, but he's confident in his ability to wear her down little by little. she's clearly been put through the wringer by her shitty kortac boyfriend, but in his mind, that makes her even more perfect- she's already used to the distance and the secrets, after all. kyle knows he can make it better than konig ever could simply by virtue of not being a charmless git- he'll order flowers for her when he's got cell service, have her favorite food delivered to her flat, and make sure that every moment he's on leave is spent by her side (or on top of her, or under her, or pressed up behind her). he'll be everything that big lout isn't; handsome, attentive, caring, and loving.

he thinks back to that meeting in the coffee shop as he shuts his laptop closed, shaking his head in disgust. no 'hello darling', no 'i've missed you', nothing. just a stern 'i have been looking for you' that sent red flags flying in kyle's mind. clearly something is amiss, and he's desperate to make things better for her by any means necessary. god knows how long this poor girl has been trapped in this relationship, but it won't be for much longer. a plan is in motion to set her free, and nothing short of a bullet to the brain will derail kyle's plot.

he pauses as he steps outside of his door, eyes trained on her door number. she's tucked away, sleeping deeply behind a flimsy and a very pickable lock. anyone could get at her if they truly wanted to, and the idea makes him sick to his stomach. good thing he's taking matters into his own hands. god knows what would happen if he left her to fend for herself.

he can just imagine it now- big dirty boots kicking down her door, stomping loudly as that big austrian git chases her around her tiny little flat. screams of panic that would go intentionally ignored by the neighbors who don't want to know, don't want a fuss, are too concerned about protecting themselves against whatever it is that would make her shriek so wildly. the more kyle thinks about it, the clearer the solution is-

the austrian has to go.

he makes his way onto the street and strides down the sidewalk with a pace quick enough to create a bit of a breeze against his face. his pristine chelsea boots stomp against the concrete with intention, unwavering on their journey, all the while kyle's mind churns, spitting out scenarios, what-ifs, potential consequences and repercussions. it muddles his mind, but doesn't deviate him from his plan- if anything, it convinces him that this isn't a solo operation, that it's something he'll need assistance with.

the prepaid cell phone in his pocket feels heavier, as if it's begging to be used, calling to him like a siren's song that he has no intention of resisting. fingers fly across the screen in a practiced motion, tapping out a number long since memorized, and the line only buzzes once before it connects.

"ah, sergeant. so nice to hear from you." nikolai practically purrs, affection ringing clear through his words.

"nik. i need a hand."

"is that right?" nikolai sounds amused, and it nearly makes kyle laugh. he's clearly enjoying being needed, even if on an informal basis.

"found a kortac operative sniffing around my... neighborhood. the big austrian one." kyle explains, mentally kicking himself for nearly saying 'my girl'. god knows nikolai would never let him hear the end of it if he knew this was over a woman. the teasing would be merciless and unending.

"ah yes, the one so ugly valeria requires him to cover his face." nikolai chuckles, and kyle aspirates a small laugh. "still sore about the last kastovia op, eh sergeant?"

the big brute had caught him completely unaware in kastovia, dropping through an open hole in the ceiling and nearly catching kyle in the throat with his k-bar. it was only luck that the floorboards was so weak, dropping the big austrian lunk through another floor- and nearly taking kyle with him. it was close- too close- and ghost had reamed him out thoroughly about being caught off-guard. seems word had reached price, which obviously meant it reached nikolai, too.

no bigger gossip-mongers than soldiers and mercs.

"just being cautious. i'm hoping to take care of things before he becomes an issue. again." kyle can practically hear the gears turning in the pilot's head, hoping his vague response won't earn him a denial.

"and what exactly is it you need from me?" nikolai asks, and kyle can hear the telltale sounds of ice being dropped into a rocks glass, followed by the pour of what kyle can only assume is a paint-thinner vodka being poured over it. nikolai always did enjoy his rot gut liquor, insisting it builds character and separates the men from the boys. probably a mentality he picked up from price.

"i've set up a meeting, but i'll need cameras off for this one." the less evidence, the better.

"getting into freelance wet work on your time off, sergeant?" nikolai teases, and kyle knows immediately it's price that's tipped him off about being on leave.

"just settling a score before it comes to settle me." kyle deflects easily, and it earns him a deep, booming laugh.

"understood. send me the time and place, and i will make things happen. i will need at least one hour to prepare, and the window will have to be small in order to avoid detection. should be easy for a professional like yourself, yes?" kyle can practically hear that cheshire grin over the phone.

"copy. thanks nik."

"any time, my brother." the line goes dead, and kyle can't help but exhale in relief. trying to do this solo would have surely ended in disaster, he's convinced of that the more he dwells on it. getting the giant git out of the way was never in question- but getting away with it was uncertain. but now with nikolai backing him up and taking out the cameras, success seems inevitable

kyle ducks into a nearby pub, forwarding the information he'd sent to konig over to nikolai as he waits for the bartender to serve him. the pieces are settling into place, all he needs now is for his quarry to bite. it's an inevitability, but at this point all he can do is wait for confirmation.

this is the right thing to do, he tells himself as he gives a dazzling smile to the heart-eyed bartender. there was a time not that long ago that he might've pursued her, followed her home and slid into her bed- but those days are behind him now. he's locked in and focused, with a clear goal in mind; the woman in number 541.

the slight curve of her hard-won smile from earlier fills his thoughts as he kills time sipping his beer and halfheartedly watching the footie game on the shitty little telly in the corner. men in red and blue kits battle it out on a pristine green field as his mind wanders to the pretty face and big soft body he covets so deeply.

wonder what it would take to make her laugh. bet it's pretty, and that it makes all of her jiggle, he muses to himself, imagining the bounce of her tits. it'll be so much easier once we take care of our little problem- after all, she'll be much more relaxed once that giant git is out of the way. those walls she's built up will crumble when the imminent threat is gone, and she'll let us in. wonder what she'll give us first- her mouth or her pussy? maybe her hand, if she's shy- but i can work with that. we know all the shit girls like to hear, we can talk her into more. we can always talk them into more.

she's not like the others, though, another corner of his mind counters. that's what makes her special. you'll have to truly earn it this time- after all, any other bird would've given in at the coffee shop much more easily. she made you work for that smile, and you nearly didn't get her to agree to see you again. that bavarian git's got her disillusioned- you're going to have to restore her faith in others again.

the pocket of his jacket vibrates, and he can't help the satisfied smirk sliding across his face. he'd taken a calculated risk, calling in the favor o'conor had owed him- but declan came through, it would seem, having provided him the phone number to his brother-in-arms at kortac.

>>i will be there.

the smirk blooms into a full smile as the cell phone slips back into his pocket. in a quarter of an hour he'll meet the big brute, handle his business, and move on to phase two- comforting his poor, grieving neighbor over the loss of her boyfriend. or helping her celebrate his disappearance. either way, he'll be there, ready to pull her into his arms, and with any luck, her bed. his tongue traces over the edges of his teeth as he imagines biting into the fat of her ass, and he has to force himself to think of anything else to keep himself from getting hard while perched on a bar stool and sipping an incredible mediocre porter; wrinkled old nuns wagging disapproving fingers in his face, grenade victim's blown open ribs left still smoking, price's hairy arse in the showers catching and holding bubbles from the lather of his soap.

his libido settled and beer finished, kyle stretches his legs as he saunters towards the meeting spot- the tube. people around him filter in and out of the bisected staircase leading underground, their faces temporarily aglow from the red circle that stretches other the entrance, welcoming them to the underground. in a way, they remind him of ants, filing neatly behind one another, keeping to the left, their movements almost instinctual, never bumping into each other or lingering in the middle of a thoroughfare. he lingers for a moment, fingers idly playing with the edges of his oyster card as he watches the throngs of people moving around him.

with a forced casualness, he saunters down the steps, entering the underground. it's like a different world down here, where every single sound seems to echo off the tiled walls and the smell of burning metal, sweat, and piss commingled into an unmistakable signature scent. there's no transport police in sight- not that he'd really expected them, but it would be his luck to plan this little rendezvous on the same night as a protest or big concert that would bring the bobbies out in droves.

the burner phone buzzes in his hand as he checks the time- one new message from an unsaved but deeply memorized number.

>>they're off. you have two minutes.

kyle rushes to his platform, scanning for the big ugly kraut. it's not hard to spot him- tall, broad, and poorly dressed, loitering by some fenced structure with high walls, put up for some construction project or another. kyle's eyes sweep the platform as he strides forward- there's very few people around, and those that are have their noses solidly pointed towards their phone screens. it's late, likely they're texting loved ones, checking schedules, or killing time scrolling through social media. they're not looking around, aren't aware of their surroundings-

just like konig isn't. there's no time to waste, so kyle bee lines for konig, tapping his shoulder and leading him behind the fencing, away from prying eyes.

"you." the austrian says, accusation dripping off the single syllable as he steps behind the fencing.

"yeah, me, arsehole. we need to chat." kyle snaps. he's allowed to be short to a man who's shot at him, he justifies to his wincing sense of propriety.

"about?"

"the woman i was with earlier- what do you want from her?" kyle demands, crossing his arms over his chest.

"it isn't your business." konig replies, monotone. "what is she to you, anyways?"

"it isn't your business." kyle echoes, enjoying the flash of annoyance on the other man's face. "but what is my business is that you've upset her. i can't be having that."

"she's a silly woman. there is no reason to be upset, and no reason to bring you into this. i just need her to do as i say-" konig turns his head to watch the incoming train, like the fucking tourist he is, and kyle takes his opportunity. with one sharp shove with both hands between his shoulder blades, he sends konig tumbling onto the tracks mere moments before he's run down. there's barely enough time for him to scream like a frightened child before it's cut off and then drowned out by the squeal of the braking train. a woman screams, a man yells and points, and several people have their phones pressed to their ears as they call for help- but none of them seem to notice the young man with the blue baseball cap joining the throng of panicked people striding towards the exit, with his head down, moving at a quick and purposeful pace.

you had to. for her. now she'll be able to sleep without crying, be able to go get coffee without being harassed by him. it's for the best. you saved her. a voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like price consoles him. and besides, it's for the greater good. you've seen the things that man would do for the pittance kortac pays him. whatever he was in england for, it certainly couldn't have been any good.

the thoughts console him all the way back to his flat, where he immediately pops open his laptop to watch the his neighbor sleep. she's rolled onto her side, curled up in a round little ball that inspires his imagination to run wild with what it would be like to wrap himself around her, having that big fat arse cradled up against his hips, hand draped over her to better play with her tits. she looks so peaceful like this, it'd be fun to see if he could fuck her in her sleep, something slow and gentle, maybe, so she would wake up until she came on his cock.

as he settles back on his couch, kyle fires back a quick thanks to nikolai, and barely has his phone back in his pocket when it starts to ring.

"is there a problem?" kyle says in lieu of hello.

"yeah. a big one." ghost's voice says, and the surprise of it makes him check his phone to look at the contact number. he'd expected nikolai, or maybe price- but this is a shocking development. he can tell already that his plans for his pretty, soft neighbor have been blown to fucking hell in less than ten seconds.

"makarov is on the move. get your arse back on base asap- your leave's suspended until further notice." ghost continues, and kyle curses under his breath.

"copy." kyle replies through grit teeth, jabbing at the call end symbol harder than strictly necessary.

she's right, she's right, you know she's right. hiding behind your work laptop on the back deck, your eyes track him from hedge to electrical outlets to toolbelt to tree to whatever the hell else he's doing.

it's not your house and it's not your place to ogle their gardener. but this man is so fucking hot, and the only time he's glanced up toward you and given you a brief nod, you felt like your insides could act as their own blackstone cooktop. you don't remember the last time looking at a man sent hot visceral bolts through you like this. you feel keenly aware of his every mundane move through the large yard, hauling bags and tools.

a simple black t-shirt. plain green work pants. heavy duty work boots. and you're ready to sink into the owner's pool to cool off. you shift in your patio chair, nudging the laptop heating your bare knees, and consider your friend's words.

you could be nice and offer him a drink. you could do that. doesn't have to mean anything.

you set your laptop under the patio table's umbrella and head into the kitchen. open the massive industrial refrigerator and stare at approximately thirteen different beverage options to choose from. you grab two ice-cold bottles of water and a large energy drink.

your fingers trail across the packages of nuts and trail mix in the pantry, but decide that feels a little too much like offering a little kid snack.

keeping your eyes down like you're just being mindful of your step across the deck and backyard, you make your way toward him. he's in the far corner of their huge immaculate lawn, working on a row of tall hydrangea bushes, when you approach quietly.

"hello?" you could disappear, you think. embarrassing just to offer someone water, for fuck's sakes.

the man turns, carefully, head swivelling on a thick neck. his eyes catch yourself for the second time and you feel the flush start again.

"you want…?" and you just idiotically lift up the three beverages for him to see. "figured…s' hot…"

what the fuck.

a crease at the corner of his amber eyes deepens. "hey, cheers." he gestures behind you, and you look back as if the owner's going to have magically appeared out of the thick humid air. but no, just some patio furniture tucked under umbrellas by the pool.

"oh. yeah. sure." you stumble over ahead of him and take a seat, eyes darting around as you watch him do the same, a groan releasing automatically from him as his body bends and folds into a deep padded armchair.

he tosses one of the water bottles back at you. he cracks open a water bottle and energy drink, holding one in each hand. takes long pulls off both. "s'nice. cheers f' that."

"no problem," you smile politely.

"you a relative then?"

"me? no. i'm sheena's assistant. she asked me to housesit for the week, you know, keep an eye on things." you trail off. why the hell do you need to explain the purpose of housesitting? it's suddenly as if you've never spoken to a man in your whole grown ass life.

"ah, right. forgot they're out of town loads this summer." he says it mildly, using a big pinky finger to scrape something out of his eye. his hands are scarred and tanned and large. terrifyingly, he looks straight at you. "what got you comin' down to give me bevvies then?"

you fiddle with the pleated hem of your dress, squaring it off across your knees. "it's hot. and i have no idea if they're the type to let you…come in and get a drink yourself." you shrug.

"sweet of you," he says coarsely, eyes sweeping you, and it runs shudders through you from crown to toe.

"not really," you beg off. but isn't this what you wanted? his eyes on you? to hear his voice? to look at those scarred-up and summer-tan arms up close? see where the sweat's darkened his collar and is seeping through in patches? to see the sweat on his forehead and upper lip and under his shadowy eyes?

"yeah. it is."

you drink your water.

"s'nice dress."

"oh. thanks."

fuck.

a long, elaborate drink from his water bottle, his adam's apple prominent. sweat streaking down the line of his throat.

"you got a boyfriend?"

fuck!

"no," and you know that your friend is laughing somewhere.

his mouth forms a shape, some kind of right, understood, and you know he's made a decision. a decision you'll have to wait and see to find out what it entails. it makes your stomach tighten.

he stands then, unexpectedly, crinkling the emptied water bottle into a little cube under his fist. he opens your palm and you let him and he places it inside and folds your fingers around it. "thanks, love."

your breath stutters in your chest with a huff of a laugh. then he swoops down suddenly, hands braced on the arms of the chair, and just stares at you. lets his eyes roam around your face. he looks like a pitbull animorphed into a human.

"they got cameras inside?"

you can't breathe with his face so close.

"uh…uhh, no. i don't…" you shake your head just slightly.

a nasty smirk on his wide lips. "good. see ya."

then he's up and off, long legs striding so casually as if he didn't just dismantle you in an armchair that cost more than your rent, leaving you in a hot melted puddle.

you're too afraid to move inside, to signal your weakness. you started this. you retrieve your laptop and go back to work on the deck, but you might as well be a toddler tapping at a toy phone for how useful you are for the next hour.

when the sun skirts down the tall dark roof and shade spills across the yard finally, relief comes. you think you might swim later. when he's gone. you see him leave the backyard for awhile, can kinda hear the sounds of stuff being scraped into a truck bed, the back of the truck closing up. you panic at the last minute, need some kind of something as a distraction or delay for what he's got planned (you know exactly what he's got planned), so your fumbling hands grab some canned cocktails from the fridge. you leave the chilled ac of the kitchen and pad back out on the deck.

he's coming around the corner of the house, rubbing from his head to his stubble, hat in his hand. when he sees you standing at the top of the patio steps, his stern face turns smirky again and your nerves twist.

"look at you with the bevvies again." he takes it from your outstretched hand, looks at it and it looks so small in his grip, and cracks it open, the fizz crackling pleasantly. "cheers."

"wanna sit?" you're desperately trying to divert him from his question about the interior cameras. only one reason he'd ask you that.

"you got your cozzie on," he says after a swig, pointing at your swimsuit under your dress. "why don't you hop in?"

you dart your eyes at him, but there's no joke on his face. he means it, means for you to strip your dress up over your head, and swim.

you can be the person who does this sort of thing. but first, you take a painfully long drink off your own cocktail until your throat's burning and you're coughing. now there's a laugh on his face.

"you make me nervous," you admit, the words slipping out after your chug.

he skirts his tongue around his teeth slowly, then huffs a little. "that right?" you've never seen a pair of hazel eyes look so hot and austere at the same time.

the pool laps at your toes when you step into the shallow end, and you wait until the last possible second to lift your dress up, turning away so you can't watch him watch you. you know he is. the heat is imprinted on you like a damp palm on the back of your neck, gripping you tight in its grasp. you fold the dress neatly at the edge of the pool and hear him snort. you dip into the pool, head under, trying to recalibrate.

you end up swimming to the deep end, the furthest away from him.

when you emerge, it's right as the solar patio lights flicker on, casting a soft glow across the water and over his body, sat in the armchair that he's scraped to the edge of the pool. your personal lifeguard. his legs are stretched out wide and he just sips his drink, eyes on you as you bob in the deep end, only your eyes and nose peeking out.

you feel like a small animal trapped in a crocodile's lair. wandered in carefree and landed just short of his sharpened teeth.

"do you have a girlfriend?" you ask.

a curve of his lips and a shake of his head.

he keeps his palms flat on his thighs. you wish you had an ounce of his confidence and presence. you're just floating, lapping up his instead. his fingers ripple softly over his pants, an unconscious movement. "why you hidin' all the way over there, love?"

you press your legs together in a heartbeat and grab onto the pool edge. "i'm not."

he seems amused and it embarrasses you that you're so fucking, painfully transparent, like a toy he can bat around.

"so come closer then."

you hesitate, and then make your way closer, pulling yourself along with your wet hand.

"you want me to make it easier on you, lovie?"

"what do you mean?" and you know instantly you shouldn't have asked the words. the crocodile's jaw laying open, inviting, waited for the fatted prey to hop on in.

he leans forward, elbows on thighs, gazing down at you now. "think maybe a nervous bird like you needs someone to make the decisions. makes it a little easier if you don't need to ask, yeah?"

he sees it in your eyes. teeth closing in increments.

"right. out you get."

you climb out on trembling legs. when you reach to grab your dress, he says firmly, "leave it." there are no poolside towels and he doesn't seem like he's looking for one.

"inside."

you shiver uncontrollably as you tiptoe, dripping pool water on the sun-heated deck toward the patio door. "i can't…i'll get water everywhere."

standing behind you, he's huge and imposing in a way you could not even have appreciated from afar, ogling like you did. you can handle like, a second of direct eye contact before realizing he doesn't give a fuck if you ruin your boss's flooring with wet feet.

he sighs when you lean over and squeeze the excess water out of the rope of your hair, splattering on his boots. the second his palm claps down on your hip, you're pulling the door open and scooting inside, wiping your feet on the mat desperately.

you turn to tell him to unlace his boots when his hands are coming down around the column of your neck, lifting your face so he can tip your nose up higher, meeting your mouths together. you gasp into the kiss, thrown off, not expecting the suddenness. he tastes like gin and cigarettes, and you guess he smoked before returning. then he obliterates all your little usual ponderings by sweeping his tongue into your mouth, and kissing you deeper than any man has before, least of all one you just met. his fingers tighten into the back of your head, curling the wet hair into the fold of his calloused fingertips. the cool confidence doesn't break away from him, but it's replaced by an urgency that you feel deep in your pussy.

he bullies you around the corner until you're pushed against the closed bathroom door. "i'm gonna fuck you in 'ere," he instructs and you nod and he rewards you with a hot lick up your damp neck to your ear, and both of you let out noises then. "yeah? tell me what i'm gonna do to you."

the door is pushing open, his hand behind your back at the handle, and you nearly fall inward but for his locked arm coming around your waist to stop you.

"tell me," he pants, mouth coming back down to your neck as you're scooped up and on top of the giant marble slab of countertop, the squelch of your wet swimsuit squeaking against it as he ruts against you.

"you're gonna…" you breathe out shakily, legs automatically trying to wrap around the heft of his hips and thighs. "you're gonna fuck me."

"fuckin' 'ell. your cunt's gonna take me s' fuckin' well, love."

you squeeze your eyes shut and feel his tongue lave across you like a dog's, slobberish almost, and then his fingers come down to cup your pussy through the damp fabric. you let out a loud gasp and he nearly laughs into your neck. "gonna see how tight y'are first."

you hate that. hate it and find your pussy pulsing, wet and empty, when his fingertips push the crotch of the suit aside, snapping it impatiently until it's trapped on the side of your pussy lips. he stares down at you, your neck forgotten, and groans. "look at that."

you don't want to.

"not the pool water makin' you so fuckin' wet, love. that's all you. fuckin' 'ell, you're gonna feel so bloody good."

he grabs at the neckline of your one-piece and yanks it down under your breasts, nipples puckered from the water and the chill of the air conditioning. straining for his stubbled jaw and mouth, desperate and perked up for attention. and for the first time, he seems frustrated; not enough hands and mouths to do everything he wants. and it's so fucking hot, you just writhe, waiting for him to lavish it upon you. ready to listen and do whatever he tells you to. accept it.

"y'want my cock, lovie?"

you nod, and you know it's not good enough; the flare of heat in his eyes, so close now to you, tells you so. "tell me."

your voice is strangled and alien to you. "i want your cock."

he grapples with his belt, and you hear the shink and then it's a matter of seconds before you don't see any fabric from the waist down. just his t-shirt, pressed with water from you. you glance down and wish you hadn't; it's huge, matches him perfectly, and you want to cry a little.

"no," you whisper.

he laughs when he sees your face. "thassa a fuckin' lovely compliment. open wide f' me."

your hips listen, spreading out further, the body preparing itself for the fucking invasion to come with an angling and repositioning of your spine and pelvis. all you can do.

he spits fat on his hand, rubs it on your pussy, and you nearly bolt off the countertop for the sudden direct contact. "'m gonna fuck you nice and full first, yeah? then 'm gonna treat that little cunt so good. yeah?"

"yeah."

"good girl." he spits again, spreads it out over the fat head of his cock, and then plays at your lips until you're shaking and thrusting up to catch him, guide him in yourself. and judging by the hot smirk on his face, he was waiting for that. "good fuckin' girl." low and steeped in rust.

you don't think you can take it, when his cock slides in, genuinely. it feels too full and uncomfortable and his spit is not helping, but he just keeps thrusting, keeps sliding further, in and in and in, and all you can do is take. you just needed someone to decide this for you. your face crumples in a moan-cry that sounds like nearly a sob, and you think it might do him in right then and there.

"what a pretty face that is," he croons down at you, cupping the back of your neck firmly. "takin' my cock and lookin' like that at me. could come now just lookin' at ya. yeah?"

the glide gets easier when he hits right, hits your g-spot, drags against you. and dumbly, you think, this is how some women come. it seems absurd to you. as he fucks you, you observe; watch him watching you, taking in how it looks when his cock strikes up into you, how it looks when your pussy lips get messy as you get wetter around him. how your tits look as they bounce hard against your chest with every thrust, how your mouth can never close when he's fucking you like this.

"you're not gonna ask for it, are ya?" his thumb reaches down between your hips. "yeah? were ya gonna pretend?" his expression scares you. like he's mad at you for staying silent.

"no! i—fuck— it feels good. i just…need more."

"'ll give ya what you need, lovie." and then his thumb is gliding where you need, over the fat of your clit, rubbing lightly until you need more, need more than just his thumb, but the pads of all his fingers over your mound, pressing down hard and rubbing just right. "come for me then, come on my cock just like that. i know you can."

it hits like a charley horse, spasming through your tensed neck and abdomen and glutes and calves, your gasp rattling out of you as you vice-grip him in waves that hit so fucking hard you might pass out, and all you can hear as you squeeze your eyes shut is him gasping gutturally as his cock is pinched tight tight tight inside you.

"fuckin—" and then you feel it, feel his hips slam sloppy, feel the hot cum coursing out, feel his shuddering and broken breaths hit your face and neck as he leans as much as he can into you, his body taking what it needs from you.

your pussy keeps clenching, keeps drawing him in, and he lets out an almost high-pitched gasp with the force of it every time a rogue wave hits.

"jesusfuckingchrist," you breathe out over the top of his head. his mouth is now in between your cleavage, resting heavy and hot, as much weight as he thinks you can probably take at this angle.

when he rights himself, he looks positively wrecked. there's no smirk. no self-assured confidence. just a man, disintegrated down to the mere biology of himself: a body that is holding itself up in time and space.

it's the hottest he's looked this entire time.

-

“uhm. ‘m proper leakin’ right now. ma head won’t stop–not my head head, but the one on m-my cock. keeps crying for ya.” another punched-out groan cuts off simon’s ramble. he curses a couple times under his breath before remembering the rest of his words. “i spit on it, too. helps like y’said. haven’t even come yet, ’n i’m already makin’ a mess.”

a hissing sound ends that one. next...

“my, uh, my top is off. already was ‘cause’a the heat, but left my briefs on. the-the white ones. cock was so–shit– hard, i nearly popped outta them. when you… mmm–when you come over later, can you do th-he sniffs-that thing where ya. like. lick over the fabric? ’n nose at me, that kinda stuff? look so pretty when you do that…”

on the next note, the strokes are faster. louder. accompanied by a touch of impatience.

“fuck me, love. wish y’could see me right now. c… god, cock’s feelin’ bigger than usual. thicker, too. can feel it fuckin’ pulsing. ’n my balls, jesus. they miss ya’real bad. i think they’re–maybe aching a bit? but it’s the kind that feels good, too. like, uh. like they’re jus’ full. sensitive. and it feels nice when i do this…” there’s break in the strokes and a shuffling noise, then a deep groan. “y-you can’t see but ‘m wrapping my fingers around them. like that ring we got, ’n the pressure feels nice. gonna make me cum ‘f i do it f’too long.”

by the time the next one starts, simon’s hand is wrapped right back around himself. his breathing is louder now, accented by badly-hidden whines, and you can hear the way he’s started to squirm against the sheets of the bed.

“i-i can’t wait t’fuck ya tonight. been getting better at holdin’ it. practicin’ my form–fuuuck. oh, fuck. s’close, baby, i can feel it… auh, i wish-i wish, uh, fuck. i can’t think. my fuckin’ legs, they won’t stop shaking.” god, you can hear it in his voice. the poor thing, with his voice croaking out an increasingly wobbly tone, cock sounding wetter and wetter with each tug of his hand. he’s probably sweating, too. he always is when he gets like this–horny and flushed and damp with sweat over how good he’s feeling… how much he feels for you. “ooouh, i wanna come… i wanna come… fuck, can i blow f’you, please?”

the next audio message is the longest one and nothing but simon falling apart. the volume fluctuates, his grip on the phone less reliable with his head in other places and his throat going raw with all the noise he’s making. groans and wails of everything from your name to swears that aren’t comprehensible (thanks to the unconscious thickening of his accent) tumble out of him in between arches that puff his chest in the air and the tight gropes of his twisty, pumping hand. it feels like it’s lasting forever, simon’s release. he goes on and on, having to sniff a few times when tears try to well in his eyes.

the last note takes him a good minute to send. he starts it with a thick sigh.

“uhm… uh, t-there’s so much cum, love. hand’s covered in it… everywhere else, too,” simon makes himself laugh with that one. he lets out a deep, tired chuckle before a quiet smack sounds. “tastes good. gonna… gonna send you a pic, yeah? little preview f’later. and ‘cause it really is a lot. think this is the most i’ve ever come without ya here…”

one last buzz from your phone. 

FROM SI 🤓♥️:

1 image

opening up the picture, your entire body warms with buzzy feeling.

against his cum-covered hand rests his softening cock, still appearing as thick and as heavy as ever despite the size of the load that’s oozed out all over him self. the photo is all spit and cum and slick, which forces you to have to swallow down the groan that tries to escape your throat.

christ. tonight cannot come soon enough.