good enough to eat. -B.T.S.
TLDR: You're a brat, did you know that?
Word count + info:4.9k! Dialogue, fem reader x B.T.S
Warnings + Content Ahead: NSFW - MINORS DNI! Box munching, throat f*cking, fingering, unprotected s*x, hickeys - kinda rough? Brat taming + praise kink themes.
Azzie Notes ✚: WHOO MISSED MEE!!! It's been so long, here's some smut to make it up to you all!! i'm sorry!!! we're doing things a bit different to clean up my inbox! So, i'll be combining requests (some are so similar) and I have like 3/5 parts of a long ass story for you guys too, long time coming. I'll upload an image when Tumblr lets me upload a high quality one smh.
Taglist: thank u for all ur support <33! if u wanna join the taglist, head on over here
🌙 - @le-moon-nade @anneioe @maya1the-bee @miss-d-d @hannahbanannax @mfcvbs @egevtntn @the-aizzlee @hello-missunperfect-things @joeybisbootiful @2manytabsopen @luckylzclerc @cassiesmuse @ineedafictionalman
It had been weeks since you felt like yourself.
The kind of restlessness that started in your skin and sank deep into your chest. Where every sound grated, every face in the world seemed determined to test your patience. The cashier who talked too loudly. The car that cut you off and crawled at 20 below the speed limit. The group chat notifications are pinging nonstop when all you wanted was quiet.
But worse than all of that was him.
Not because he was doing anything wrong. He was just… there.
His sneakers by the door. His gym bag half-unzipped, the smell of his cologne clinging to the air. That easy grin when he came home, late again, telling you about practice or some idiot or whatever new drama unfolded at the club.
And then? He’d eat. Shower. Drop his bundled-up towel on the floor. Crawl into bed, muscles loose, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. Out cold before you could even try to start something.
You hated yourself for how much you wanted it. Him. The weight of his hands on your hips. The drag of his mouth on your neck. The rough scrape of his stubble where your thighs were aching for friction.
It was primal. Depraved. A desperate need so thick it sat in your throat, sour and hot, threatening to spill over.
So now, standing in front of the microwave, you clutched the island edge, willing yourself to hold it together.
To your side, Ben leaned against the counter, recounting another story in that lazy drawl.
“-and I told him, ‘bro, that ain’t even a backhand, that’s a war crime,’ but he just kept hackin’ at it like a damn woodpecker. I almost-”
You closed your eyes, jaw tight. Inhale, exhale.
“-felt bad for him. Almost. But then he’s got the nerve to say I should-”
Your head cocked a bit. “Ben.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “-Mind my own game. Like I’m the-”
Strained, you let the name push through your teeth. “Ben.”
His voice cut off. “Huh? What?”
“Can you-” your nails dug into the island, your voice coming out more like a hiss, “for once in your life just stop talking?”
He blinked. “The hell...?”
You turned to him, arms crossed tight, trying to hold the rest of you in. “You’ve been rambling since you walked in. I’m two seconds from losing my mind, and you-” you gestured at him, at his infuriatingly relaxed posture- “you don’t even notice.”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “I don’t even notice what?”
“Anything! Me! This house! Your fucking mess! The fact that I’ve been holding it together by a damn thread all week while you…” You gestured at him again, words tripping over the heat rising in your chest. “...you waltz in like a loudspeaker and act like everything’s fine.”
Ben let out a low chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re actin’ like I left you for dead or somethin’. What’s your issue, huh?”
His grin widened just slightly. “Nah.”
You cocked your head again, brows furrowed, confused. What does he mean "no"?
“Try again.” His voice was lighter than it should’ve been, teasing, and it made something in you twist tighter.
“Fuckin' traffic every day,” you said through clenched teeth.
“Uh-huh. That why you’re standin’ there like you’re fixin’ to bite my damn head off?” He shifted his weight against the fridge, arms folding across his chest. His eyes narrowed, glittering with amusement. “C’mon, what’s your real issue?”
“Ben, you're being a dick right now. Just drop it.”
“Nope.” He grinned, and you hated how smug he looked. “I think I’m onto somethin’ here. What’s got you so wound up, babe? Because I know what you're like and this isn't from work or traffic. Maybe…” his eyes swept over you, sharp and knowing now, “it’s somethin’ else.”
“Don’t what?” He was moving closer now, slow and deliberate. “Don’t call out the fact you’ve been pacing this house like a caged animal?”
“You are.” He was in front of you now, so close you could smell his cologne, faint, warm, sharp, dizzying. His head dipped, voice lowering to a near-growl. “So what’s your real issue?”
“Bullshit.” His tone was calm, measured, maddening. “You're clenching that counter like it’s the only thing keeping you upright.”
You snapped. “Fuck! I need you, Ben! Is that what you wanna hear? I need your hands, your mouth, your body- I need you so bad it hurts.”
“Mmm, there we go.” Ben’s voice barely scraped out of his throat before he grabbed you by the hips and hoisted you onto the counter like you weighed nothing.
Your thighs hit the cold island with a sharp hiss and shiver, but you barely notice. His mouth was already on you, claiming, crashing, consuming. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a warning. A release. A goddamn possession.
You gasped into it, and he took that moment to deepen it, tongue sliding against yours, one hand fisting the fabric of your shirt like he’d tear it in half if he had to.
“Fuckin’ knew it,” he murmured into your mouth. “Knew you were tight and wound and needy.”
Your nails dug into his shoulders, dragging him closer. “Shut up.”
He chuckled, low and dark. “You sure?"
You tugged at his t-shirt like you were trying to rip it off him. “I swear to God, Ben-”
“You gonna threaten me now?” he growled, smirking as he pulled back just enough to yank your top up, over your head, tossing it to the floor. His eyes dropped, lingering on the swell of your chest, the flush crawling up your skin.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “You were stewin’ like this all week?”
You answered by pulling his head back to your mouth, teeth catching his bottom lip, biting just hard enough to make him groan.
“Damn.” He laughed against your jaw, breath warm.
His hands were everywhere now, palming over your chest, down digging into your thighs, slipping under the waistband of your shorts, dragging them halfway down your hips before you shoved them the rest of the way off with a frustrated huff.
“You gonna talk cocky the whole time?” you panted, tugging his shirt up over his abs.
“ 'Think you like it when I talk,” he said, kissing down your neck now, breath hot against your skin. “You were practically growlin’ at me to shut up, and now you’re whinin’ under me. That’s cute.”
His hand was already sliding between your thighs before any protest could've left your mouth.
Your gasp was instant, sharp, making your eyes flutter shut and he drank it in like a reward, teeth grazing your collarbone.
“Goddamn, you’re soaked,” he muttered, voice rough and reverent all at once. “Is this what all that attitude was about?”
You could barely answer. Your head fell back as his fingers moved slow and steadily, maddening.
“You’re lucky I like you mean and needy,” he whispered, pressing open-mouthed kisses across your breasts, head dipped low, fingers working. “Otherwise I’d be real offended.”
You tangled your fingers in his curls, dragging his face back up to yours, mouths crashing together again, desperate and wet and perfect. And when you broke for air, both of you breathless, Ben's shirt now thrown to the side, the microwave beeped again.
Ben looked over your shoulder and grinned.
You rolled your eyes, pulling him back in by the waistband of his shorts. “Shut up and finish what you started.”
His teeth grazed up your neck like a promise. “Yes, ma’am.”
His shorts hit the floor with a heavy thud, leaving him in his boxers but he didn’t move to press into you, not yet. Instead, his palms spread wide on your thighs, thumbs stroking lazy circles against the tender skin as he dropped to his knees.
Your breath hitched. “Ben-”
“I’m havin’ dessert first,” he drawled, his Gainesville accent thick, dripping with heat. “And you’re not gonna rush me.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but it died in your throat as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, soft and reverent. Another higher. Then a third, right where your thigh meets your hip. Each one is slow enough to make your toes curl against the counter edge. This would probably be the softest he'll be with you for the next while.
“Goddamn,” he murmured, hands sliding up to cup your ass, tugging you closer to the edge. “Look at you. All worked up, all wet… over me.”
“Ben, don’t-” You whined, shy.
“Don’t what? Don’t point out how desperate you’ve been?” He smirked, kissing along the crease of your thigh. “Baby, you were practically snarlin’ earlier, and now you’re quiet as a mouse.”
His mouth hovered just above where you needed him most, warm breath ghosting over slick skin. You squirmed, hips jerking forward instinctively, but his grip tightened.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he warned, voice low. “You don’t get to set the pace. You told me to finish what I started.”
Then his mouth was on you, hot and firm, tongue sliding through your folds in a slow, full, deliberate stroke that had you gasping his name. His tongue traced all the way to the top, quickly circling around your clit before drawing back.
“Shit,” your hands flew to his curls, gripping tight, trying to pull him closer.
He groaned into you, the sound vibrating against your clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure up your spine.
“Knew it,” he muttered, his mouth never leaving you. “Knew you’d taste as good as you look all pissed off in my kitchen.”
“Please what?” His tongue flicked teasingly, maddeningly light. “Tell me, baby.”
That grin curved against your skin. He buried himself deeper, mouth hot and unrelenting, tongue circling, flicking, delving and sucking until your thighs were trembling against his shoulders. One hand slipped up to your chest, squeezing your breast, thumb brushing your nipple in tandem with the rhythm of his mouth. You began grinding, rocking your hips into his face in an attempt to chase your high even faster.
“Fuck- you're-” you gasped, hips bucking.
He pulled back just long enough to look up at you, lips glistening, eyes dark and feral.
“You’re loud now, huh? Bet the whole neighbourhood knows how bad you needed me. Say it. Say you needed me.”
“I needed you.” Your voice cracked, raw and wrecked. “I fucking need you.”
“Good girl.” His mouth was back on you instantly, faster this time, tongue lapping in hungry strokes as two fingers slid inside you, curling just right.
Your cry echoed off the kitchen walls, nails biting his scalp as your body tightened, coiling, the edge rushing at you fast and hot. Weeks. Weeks of needing this, needing to be devoured so ferociously, desperately. That familiar heat pooling in your lower belly was now slowly spreading across your body when you felt Ben's ministrations working so desperately for you.
“You’re close,” he said against your skin. “I can feel it. Gonna cum for me like this?”
A flaming white heat spread throughout your body as your orgasm hit you, causing you to flood Ben's tongue. Your hands flew to the countertop, to the edge, to his hair; to anything that would anchor you. And when you came, it was violent, your body arching off the island as he held you down, mouth and fingers relentless, dragging every last wave out of you until you were left shaking and breathless. The noises spilling from your mouth are unholy, uncouth, animal-like roars and whines. Ben continued to suck up the rest of your juices, his eyes glazed over in adoration, watching you as you came down from your high.
Ben finally pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, that smug grin back in full force.
“Dinner’s still waitin’,” he said, voice low and dark. “But you first.”
Before you could respond, he stood, his hips pressing hard against your core as his hands slid back to your hips.
“Now,” he growled, lining himself up. “You ready for the main course, or you need another appetiser?”
You barely managed a breath, let alone an answer. Your thighs still trembled, sensitive and aching where his mouth had wrung you out moments ago, but Ben wasn’t giving you a reprieve.
“Guess that’s a no,” he muttered, voice thick with heat, one hand gripping your ass to tug you closer across the cold marble of the island. The other wrapped tight around his cock, boxers slipping down his legs then tossed to the side as he stroked himself lazily before he pressed the blunt head against your entrance.
“Too bad. I’m fuckin’ starvin’.”
You should’ve been ready for him, you thought you were ready, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he pushed in, slow, deliberate, inch by devastating inch.
You sucked in a breath, back arching instinctively. He was thick, stretching you until the tension in your body threatened to snap. It wasn’t enough. It was too much. It was everything, all at once.
“Fuck,” you whispered, nails digging crescent moons into his biceps.
“Uh-huh.” His drawl was low, controlled, but you could feel the tight coil of restraint in his muscles. “That’s the sound I been waitin’ for.”
You couldn’t hold his gaze. Not when he was staring down at you like he had you in the palm of his hands, like he was watching every inch of your resolve peel away under his hands, his cock, his filthy mouth.
It had been too long. Too many nights lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, hot and aching, listening to him breathe deep beside you. Too many mornings biting back your irritation when his towel was on the floor, his sneakers by the door, his grin flashing as he told another practice story you couldn’t bring yourself to care about because all you wanted, needed was this.
This brutal, deep push and pull that made your toes curl against the slick marble. This stretch that burned in the best possible way. This overwhelming sense of animal satisfaction, finally being filled.
“Jesus Christ, Ben,” you gasped, gripping his shoulders like they were the only thing keeping you grounded.
“Mmm?” he muttered, that cocky grin cutting across his face. “Try again.”
You opened your mouth to snap back, but then he bottomed out, hips flush to yours, his soft grunts hot in your ear, and the words dissolved into a sharp, choked moan.
But he didn’t give you time to adjust. His hands locked around your thighs, holding you in place as he pulled back and drove forward again, harder, rougher. The marble chilled your overheated skin as he set a punishing rhythm, every thrust jolting you across the island, palms splayed wide to brace yourself.
“You feel this?” he growled, his voice low and ragged against your ear. “This is what you've been needin’ all this time?”
“Yes, God-” Your voice cracked, breath catching on another sharp snap of his hips.
“Yeah, you did,” he said, almost smug, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing rough, fast circles that made your whole body jolt. “Whole week been actin’ like a brat ‘cause you needed this cock to straighten you out.”
“Ben-” Your cry came high and desperate now, your body wound tight as a wire.
“Say it again.” His pace didn’t falter. If anything, he pushed harder, deeper, like he wanted to ruin you.
“I needed you. I fucking needed you, Ben-”
“Atta girl.” His teeth grazed your jaw, a low growl rumbling from his chest, breath hot and filthy. “Look at you now. So fuckin’ sweet for me. So wet I can hear you every time I slide in.”
And by God, you could hear it too.
The obscene, slick sounds filling the kitchen, each wet slap of skin against skin echoing off the tile and marble, throughout the place, blending with your ragged, desperate moans.
It was too loud. It was everywhere. It was perfect.
Your mind felt split wide open, thoughts scattered like shards of glass. So much frustration, holding yourself together, biting your tongue while the world scraped at your nerves, now melting into nothing under the relentless rhythm of his hips. Every deep thrust, every grind of his pelvis against your clit made the knot in your belly tighten, sharper and hotter than before.
God, this, this is what I needed. Not yoga. Not wine. Not some half-assed attempt at masturbating. Not a hot bath with lavender bullshit.
You’d been trying to soothe a hunger that only he could feed, and now, finally, you were being devoured whole.
“Ben-” You tried to form words, but your voice broke again, cracked under the weight of him.
“Yeah, baby?” His pace never faltered. He dragged out, slow enough for your walls to clench helplessly, then drove back in fast and hard, forcing a cry from your lips.
You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Could only feel, the stretch, the burn, the slick glide of him splitting you open again and again. Your nails dug deeper into his shoulders, hips jerking on instinct, trying to meet his thrusts and failing as he pinned you firmly in place.
“Listen to that,” he panted, a feral edge to his voice now. “Soaked for me. Fuckin’ music to my ears.”
He’s right, your brain whispered uselessly. You’re soaked. You’re a goddamn mess. You’ve been a mess for him since the second he walked through that door and opened his mouth-
Another sharp snap of his hips cut your thoughts in half, your mouth falling open on a strangled moan.
“You what?” His thumb pressed harder against your clit, circling fast and tight, as his cock drove in deep enough to make stars dance at the edges of your vision.
“What’s that baby? You can talk all that shit earlier but now you’re too fucked out to finish a sentence?”
You could only manage a broken whimper, and he grinned against your throat, suckling a hot, wet stripe up to your jaw before biting down just enough to make you gasp. You can only imagine the hickeys that'll be left for you to discover in the morning, across your breast, neck and jawline, the thought of that alone made you see stars as you let out a shaky moan.
“I know, baby,” he growled, holding you against him. “Gonna cum for me again, huh? Mess up my cock like you did my tongue?”
You couldn’t even answer. Your brain was gone, pleasure overtaking every nerve ending as your nails raked down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. He knew this all too well.
“Do it,” he ordered, thumb working your clit in ruthless tandem with his thrusts. “Cum for me. Right fuckin’ now.”
And you did with his permission, under his eyes, harder than before, vision going white-hot once again as your body convulsed under him, a sob of his name breaking from your throat.
“F-fuck-! look at you,” Ben hissed, hips stuttering as your walls clamped down tight, milking him. “So perfect, so fuckin’ perfect-”
He buried himself deep one last time, his groan guttural as he came, head falling to the crook of your neck as he was spilling inside you, heat flooding your core.
For a long, quiet moment, all you could hear was your own ragged breathing and the faint hum of the microwave still flashing END behind you.
Ben didn’t pull away right away. He stayed pressed against you, forehead moved to rest against yours, his hands still gripping your thighs possessively.
“Guess your dinner’s cold now,” he murmured with a weak, breathless laugh.
You let out a hoarse, incredulous sound and smacked his chest. “You’re such an ass.”
“Yeah.” He kissed your nose, then your jaw, then your lips. “But I’m yours.”
When he finally pulled out, you shivered at the loss, and his hands steadied you instantly as your legs wobbled against the marble like they’d forgotten how to hold you.
“Stay there,” Ben said, his voice low and commanding as he pressed a lingering kiss to your inner thigh.
“Why?” you whispered hoarsely, body thrumming, every nerve raw and buzzing.
His lips curved against your skin, hands tightening on your trembling legs.
“Because I’m not done,” he murmured, dragging his mouth higher, warm breath ghosting over where you were still aching.
Your stomach flipped, muscles tensing. “Ben...”
He chuckled darkly, his drawl dripping with satisfaction. “Relax, baby. Just admirin’ the view. Can’t believe how good you look and taste… almost wanna go back for seconds.”
A shiver ran through you, your breath catching as his teeth grazed the soft skin of your inner thigh in a teasing bite.
“Almost?” you managed, trying for levity, though your voice shook.
He looked up then, eyes dark and gleaming with intent.
“Almost,” he echoed, his grin slow and sharp. “But you don’t get to just lie there lookin’ pretty and stewin’ in your own attitude all week, sweetheart.”
Your brows furrowed, but before you could respond, his hands slid from your thighs to your hips, gripping tight. “Get down.”
“Off the island,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And on your knees. Since you like havin’ that mouth runnin’ so damn much, let’s put it to better use.”
The words alone made heat pool low in your stomach again. Your body moved before your brain caught up, shaky legs lowering you to the floor as he stepped back from the island.
“That’s it,” Ben murmured, his fingers threading into your hair, gripping firm enough to tilt your head back. You blinked up at him, still dazed, still wrung out from before, but his cock twitched where it hung heavy and slick in front of you, streaked with both of you.
“Now, be a good girl and clean up your mess.”
Your lips parted, a whimper escaping at the taste of yourself still lingering in the air. He chuckled low, thumb brushing across your bottom lip.
“Look at you, about ready to drool,” he teased, voice dropping. “Could’ve saved us both a lotta trouble if you’d just opened this pretty mouth earlier instead of stompin’ ‘round my house like a brat.”
“I didn't mean to-” you tried, breathless.
“Shh.” His thumb pressed against your tongue, his drawl thick as honey. “No excuses now. Open.”
And when you did, his hand tightened in your hair, guiding him into the wet heat of your mouth. You moaned around him, tasting yourself on his skin, the mix of salt and sweetness making your cheeks flush hot.
“That’s it,” he praised, low and rough. “Fuck, you feel so good. Knew you’d take me like this.”
His hips moved slowly at first, deliberate, his hand guiding your head as his other thumb stroked across your jaw.
“You’re gonna remember this next time you’re wound tight. Instead of snappin’ at me, you’ll ask for it like a good girl, yeah?”
You tried to nod, but he held you still, the pace picking up, shallow thrusts that had you gagging around him in the filthiest way.
“That’s my girl,” he rasped, his grin turning feral as he looked down at the mess of you on your knees.“Bet you taste even sweeter when it’s mixed with me, huh?”
You tried to hum in agreement, but were cut short as his hand tightened in your hair, forcing your head still as he fed himself deeper into your mouth. You gagged around him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your tongue flattened helplessly against the heavy weight of him. This satisfied every craving you'd been building up.
“Fuck, yeah,” Ben growled, his voice dropping to a wrecked rasp. His fist in your hair held tight like reins, controlling the angle of your head as his hips rolled forward again, slower now but no less devastating. “That’s it, babe. Gonna make sure you know how to use this mouth next time instead of runnin’ it.”
The stretch burned, your jaw already aching, but your core throbbed with every wet, slick sound filling the kitchen. It was obscene, the way drool mixed with his slickness, streaking down your chin, dripping to your chest, sliding further down to the pool of mixed arousal on the floor between your legs.
God, it’s so filthy. So fucking good. Why does it feel this good?
“Look at you,” he rasped, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes, sweat darkening the curls at his temple. “Eyes all glassy, cheeks flushed… lips stretched so wide for me.”
You choked as he pushed deeper, sounds of your throat filling the room as the tip of him nudging the back of your throat, and for a moment his hold in your hair softened, letting you take a shallow breath through your nose.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek almost tenderly before his fist tightened again. “That’s it. You can take it. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”
I am, your brain screamed, dizzy with need. I can take it.
“That’s my girl.” His hips snapped forward harder now, his movements more erratic, the wet smack of each thrust echoing off the tile, his head thrown back, curls plastered to his forehead with a sheen of sweat.
“Goddamn, this mouth… fuckin’ made for me. You were made for me.”
Your nails dug into his thighs for purchase, but he didn’t slow, didn’t let you pull back. His pace grew punishing, each thrust forcing little choked sounds out of you as more slickness slipped past your lips, drooling down your chin in sticky strands.
“Jesus Christ-” he panted, his voice breaking into a growl. “Gonna cum down that pretty throat. You’re gonna swallow it all, yeah? Gonna take every fuckin’ drop.”
You whimpered around him in agreement, your eyes watering, and the vibration sent a shudder through his frame.
“Fuck-fuc-right there, don’t you stop-”
He held you flush against his pelvis as he came, cock twitching on your tongue, the first hot spurt hitting the back of your throat. You swallowed instinctively, desperate to take it all, but there was so much, thick and salty, spilling out past your lips to run down your chin and drip onto your bare chest.
“Shit-” Ben’s voice cracked as he cursed, his body shuddering above you. His fingers flexed painfully in your hair, holding you there even after his hips stilled, his cock softening but still heavy and warm in your mouth.
“Don’t move,” he muttered hoarsely, hips giving a shallow roll. “Not done yet.”
You whimpered again, your jaw slack, throat raw, but he didn’t let go.
“Gotta make sure you’re clean,” he said, his drawl rough and low as his thumb wiped at the corner of your mouth, smearing a mix of saliva and cum across your flushed cheek. “So damn messy, baby. Look at you… dripping all over these floorboards. Fuck.”
You flushed hotter at his words, the humiliation sharp but twisted up with dark, sticky pleasure.
“Next time,” Ben continued, his tone shifting softer but no less commanding, “you need somethin’? You ask. Don’t stew. Don’t snap. You use that bratty little mouth.”
“Yes,” you whispered, or tried to, it came out garbled and rasped with his length still resting heavy on your tongue.
“Good girl.” He gave a few more shallow thrusts, coaxing out the last remnants before finally easing himself free with a wet pop, his grip in your hair loosening.
You gasped as cool air hit your swollen lips and clit, your chest stained, rising and falling as you swallowed the lingering taste of him. Cum slicked your mouth and chin, some of it dripping down your neck to pool in the hollow of your collarbone.
Ben smirked down at you, thumb hooking under your jaw to tilt your face up.
“Messy little thing,” he murmured, voice low and almost fond. Ben smirked down at you, thumb hooking under your jaw to tilt your face up. “God, look at you. Beautiful even like this… maybe especially like this.”
Your lips parted to reply, but your throat was too raw, your body too spent. You just blinked up at him, flushed and dazed, and his grin softened into something warmer.
“C’mere,” he said, tugging you up by your hands. You stumbled a little, legs still shaky, and he caught you easily, strong arms wrapping around your waist.
You started to open your mouth and find words, but he shook his head, leaning in to kiss your temple.
“Shh. You did good,” he murmured, voice all low drawl and fondness now. “So fuckin’ good for me.”
You slumped against his chest as he guided you toward the counter, grabbing a dish towel on the way to gently dab at your mouth and chin.
“Let’s get some food in you before I end up starvin’ and makin’ a mess of you again,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your sticky hairline. “...though I gotta say, I might need a second serving of dessert later.”
