Bugs

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“Mmmm fu-uck Andy!” 

You’re on your hands and knees, on the edge of your bed. Pope’s taking you from behind; thrusting into you roughly, the sounds of slapping skin filling the room. His fingers digging into your hips so hard, you can already feel the bruises forming. 

He’d already fingered you to two orgasms, back to back. Three of his thick, rough fingers bully into your slick, puffy pussy. His other hand harshly rubbing at your clit from side to side. He’d pushed you past the point of overstimulation; your body arching and squirming underneath him, but he wouldn’t relent. 

“You’ve been a bad girl…” he’d growled. “You’re gonna take what I give you.” 

After he’d torn your second orgasm from you, your cheeks tear stained and legs shaking, Pope moved you like a ragdoll. Positioning you onto your hands and knees, kneading and spreading the cheeks of your ass. Your body still humming; he wasted no time impaling you with his thick, hard cock, setting a brutal pace. 

“You like driving me crazy?” Pope drives in deeper, hitting the spongy spot inside you. “Like teasin’ me while I’m on a job?” he growls, punctuating each word with a thrust. 

You let out a high pitched whine, pussy clenching around him. 

Pope harshly slaps the meat of your ass, watching the flesh ripple from the impact. 

“Answer me, princess.” 

“Ye- oh fuck! Oh my god- yes!” you say, a deep growl tearing from your throat. “Love teasin’ you Andy.” Your head falls forward as you rock your hips back, meeting his thrusting hips. 

Pope grips your hair tightly, pushing the side of your face against the mattress. The new angle pushing him even deeper inside you, leaving you breathless and drooling. 

You feel him so deep. In your stomach. In your throat. 

He fucks into you hard, slamming into your g-spot with every thrust. 

“This what you wanted?” Pope slaps your ass again, even harder. “Wanted me to come home and fill you up?” 

“Uh huh… needed it so bad Andy.” you nod frantically, cheek rubbing against your comforter. 

“Bet you did, princess.” Pope spanks your ass again, leaving behind a bright red hand print. 

You cry out, clenching around him like a vice. 

“God…. you’re squeezin’ me so tight princess…” Pope groans, his voice cracking. 

“Fuckin’ this pussy so good Andy….” you whine, voice hoarse. 

Pope grunts, fucking into you harder. His balls slapping harshly against your clit with each thrust. The pace he sets is punishing. Your pussy already feeling sore, the ache between your thighs only adding to the pleasure. You feel the coil in your belly tighten, moans becoming breathier. Your fingers clutching the blanket underneath you tightly. 

“You gonna cum, sweetie?” Pope teases, thrusts unrelenting. “Gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?” 

“Ye- UNGH! SHIT! Yes! Yes! Yes!” you chant. A scream tearing your throat as your third orgasm crashes over you. 

Your body seizes, cunt clenching and fluttering. Rocking back against him, matching his now sloppy thrusts. Your orgasm is ripping through you; your toes curling, ears ringing, your eyes rolling back in your head. Shuddering and crying out as you gush around his cock. 

Pope works you through it, fucking into you slow. Holding up your body as your legs turn to jello. 

“There you go…. Cumming so good for me sweetheart.” Pope praises. “That’s my good girl.” 

“Andy… love you so much.” you whimper, voice coming out small. 

“Love you too…” Pope huffs, trying to catch his breath. “Get on your back for me, sweetie.” 

You nod your head dumbly, flopping onto your back. You’re sleepy, eyes hooded and limbs loose. 

Pope straddles you, fisting his cock over your face. 

You stick your tongue out, a satisfied smile falling across your face. 

Pope whimpers, stomach muscles clenching. He strokes his cock quickly; white hot ropes shooting out across your tongue and face. A deep moan escaping him, hips bucking. You moan with him, loving the feeling of him marking you. 

“So pretty like this princess…” he sighs, cock slowly going soft in his hand. 

He glides his thumb through the mess he made on your face. Letting it collect on the pad of his thumb. He brings it to your mouth, running it across your cum covered tongue. 

You moan as you lick along his thumb, taking the digit into your mouth and sucking it clean. 

“Fuck y/n…” Pope groans, spent. “You like your punishment?” he chuckles. 

You nod your head lazily, giggling.

“I think I need to be a bad girl more often.” you tease, feeling his cum start to cool against your skin. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up sweetie.” Pope laughs, smiling at you. 

He’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. And to him… you are. 

────﹒♡﹒────

He used to want to come home to the quiet of his house, to feed the stray cat outside and maybe read a little before bed. He used to like to sleep in on his off days, to spend the time couch rotting with a good book or some mind numbing TV. He used to like ordering takeout and never leaving the house unless he had to.

He saw enough action at work, anyway. no need for more of it.

But you are living life for the very first time and taking advantage of every second of it. Occasionally you'll sleep in until ten, if he's lucky. But you're out the door by eleven. Shopping or visiting museums or driving three hours to a store for some product that finally says it's back in stock.

And Robby—god. He loved to trail behind you the whole time.

He liked to carry your shopping bags and watch you try on clothes just to put them back. He liked to watch you order something new at a restaurant and see your reaction. He liked to watch as you take a hundred photos on your phone and even let you pose him so it turned out exactly like the vision in your head.

He liked hearing your giggle when you turned your phone to show him some silly TikTok he doesn't understand.

He even liked staying out late now, because you're always at a bar or a club. Always on the dance floor with a drink in your hand. Robby liked to watch you dance wildly, liked to watch the lights reflect in your eyes, liked to come home covered in your body glitter and your coconut perfume and your love.

In truth, Robby had been a little nervous thinking about the first time you'd sleep together. Worried he couldn't keep up with you, that you'd want him more often than his age would allow.

Cause, ya know—he's twice your age, and his stamina isn't what it used to be, and you're so alive and so bright and he's so…him. A little grumpy and a whole lot tired.

But what Robby discovered after some time is that his desire for you overshadowed all else.

He looked at your smiling face and all the nerves settled in his head, going from a raging storm to still waters in an instant.

He wanted your first time together to be romantic. Maybe he'd cook you some pasta and the two of you could get wine drunk and stumble up into his bedroom late one evening, and he'd be real sweet and soft. He wanted to make love to you. Wanted you to know just how much you brighten his life, wanted you to know just how cherished you really are.

But what actually happened is far from romantic.

It's not in his bed or even his house. It's in the back of his car, in broad daylight, on a random side street one rainy, Tuesday afternoon.

You'd asked him to stop and try that new coffee place downtown before you went to meet Trinity and Dennis for lunch. The downpour had intensified while you were inside ordering, and by the time you'd ran back to the car you'd both gotten drenched.

An event that would've irritated Robby before you, but how could he be upset about the rain and his wet hair and the droplets on his glasses when you were laughing about it? How could he be upset or irritated when you wore the sweetest smile?

You'd leaned across the center console, took his face in your cold hands, and pressed your mouth to his. you always tasted so sweet, and the combination of your warm tongue against his and the cool, wet slide of the rain on your lips—god. It had him weak in the knees.

Arousal pooled low in his gut instantaneously. He tried to think of other things. Gross things, terrifying things, of anything but you. None of it worked to erase the intensity of his desire.

He was ten minutes away from the diner when he pulled over and admitted what was going on. "Sweetheart, I'm…I'm really sorry, I know you were looking forward to this but I think we might have to cancel."

A crease formed between your brows, and it pained him to see it. "What? Why? What's going on, are you okay?"

Robby's face warmed, and he knew he should probably lie. Make up some fluke of an excuse as to why he'd suddenly had a change of heart and needed to return home at the very last second. But the look in your eyes was full of true concern, and Robby knew he'd never be able to lie. Not to you.

So, he took it on the chin. Swallowed down his embarrassment and said, "Yeah, yeah. But…uhm—when you…when you kissed me, it was really…" he laughed, fingers fidgeting. "It felt really nice. Too nice, actually, and—"

"Oh," you interrupted. "You're hard?"

The words are said so plainly, as if there's nothing wrong with the fact that he'd gotten this worked up over something as small as a kiss. Robby shook his head. "I've tried to get it to go away, but," he scoffed. "It's not—uh, not working, so—"

"Well, let me help you." Your lips turned up at the corners, a knowing smirk forming. you unbuckled your seatbelt and moved closer, leaning over the center console until your mouth is a breath away from his. "Is it okay if I touch you?"

Robby's head turned, glancing out of the rain-clouded windows. There was no one around, and he very much wanted you to touch him, but— "Are you sure? Here?"

Your nod is both certain and enthusiastic. "What better place than here and now?"

He laughed. "Anywhere would be better than here," he said. "My bed, your bed, the damn couch, for christ's sa—"

You palmed at his bulge through the too-thick fabric of his jeans. "Yeah? That's where you wanna fuck me, Mikey? The couch?" Your voice was low and teasing in his ear, sending shivers up his spine.

Robby swallowed, muscles slackening beneath your touch. You squeezed his length in your hand, stroking him with your thumb.

"Or…" you began. "Do you wanna fuck me here?" Your other hand joined the first, aiding so you could unbutton his jeans and slide your hand down the front of them.

He's not wearing boxers—Robby can't stand the extra fabric and the way it bunches—and suddenly your hand was wrapped tight around his aching cock. His head tilted back against the seat, eyes closed as you whispered against the shell of his ear.

"You're even bigger than I thought you'd be. Gonna feel so—so full, when you're inside me." you said, stroking his cock with the perfect amount of pressure. "I think about you fucking me a lot, Mikey. You're just so strong and so big and so fuckin' sexy. You remember when I asked you to send me those pictures when you were in the shower? I've touched myself to them so many times."

It killed him to hear it. To imagine you with your fingers on your clit or buried deep inside you while you're thinking about him. His cock pulsed, throbbing with desire. "This isn't—fuck—this isn't how it's supposed to be. I'm supposed to—to be sweet. Dinner and wine and rose—jesus—rose petals and—"

"I don't want rose petals today," you murmured. You licked at his neck, wet tongue sliding up over his pulse, over the stubble there that he's gone a day too long without shaving. "What I want is to suck your cock. Can I do that, Mikey?"

Robby was nodding before he could think any better of it. He lifts his hips just enough to pull his jeans down, cock springing free and resting against his belly, reaching just below his navel. It's thick and aching for you, resting just on top of the dark hair of his happy trail. "'Course you can, baby."

The smile you gave him in response is nothing short of earth-shattering.

Robby doesn't think anyone has ever seemed this eager for him. No one's been so desperate for it. The realization made him feel dizzy with affection for you and the way you worship him, the way you trust him.

You leaned over the center console, took his cock in one hand, and pressed a wet kiss to his tip. Your mouth is so soft and so sweet and so warm. Your tongue swirled around his length as you eased him into your mouth, tracing each vein over and over as if for memorization.

Robby didn't know where to put his hands. He wanted to touch you, to smooth your hair back away from your face. He wanted to reach over and squeeze the supple flesh of your ass through your leggings. He wanted to reach lower, to press his fingers against your folds through the cotton fabric until you moaned for him.

But he didn't know what was too much, or what wasn't enough, and—

You suddenly swallowed him down, taking all of him in your mouth, nose pressed to the thick hair at the base of his cock and it felt so fucking good that he nearly finishes right then and there.

And Robby, on instinct, grabbed the back of your neck to steady himself. "Oh fuck," he choked out. "Careful, pretty girl. Careful, careful—"

You slowly leaned back, mouth sealed tight around him, sucking hard until his cock pops out from between your lips. You turned your head to look up at him, slapping the underside of his length lewdly against your tongue. Spit bubbled at the corners of your mouth, sliding messily down your chin. "I love sucking your cock," you said.

A smile stretched across his face. Real and true and happy. "Yeah?"

You nodded in response, teary eyes alight with desire. "Mhm."

"Well, it's not fair for you to have all the fun now, is it?" Robby's fingers curled around the back of your neck, pulling you up and off of him. He guided your mouth to his, the kiss wet this time in a whole different way. His free hand found your neck, bracketing your throat completely between his big hands.

You moaned against his tongue and Robby smiled against your lips.

He pulled away only to instruct, "Why don't you go ahead an' get in the back seat for me, baby."

A grin formed on your face—pretty and submissive and alive with hunger. Robby could get real addicted to this, he thought. Real addicted to you.

He let go of your throat, and watched as you hurriedly did as told. Obedient little thing, so perfect.

Robby followed closely behind. He reached tbeneath the passenger seat to push it forward. The space is too small for him; cramped even when he bends on aching knees to the floor of the back seat.

Kneeling between your thighs, Robby hooked his fingers around the waistband of your leggings and pulled them down, over your high top sneakers. His hands come to feel the softness of your exposed skin, roaming up and beneath your shirt, feeling you this close for the very first time.

Robby palmed your breasts over the fabric of your bra, thumbs running over the subtle swells of your peaked nipples. "You're so pretty," he mused, leaning forward to press a wet, open-mouthed kiss just above your navel.

His mouth traveled downward, peppering kisses across your belly until his lips met the fabric of your panties. Robby delighted in the shiver you gave as the warmth of his breath fanned across your cunt. He pressed a kiss right over your clit and grinned to himself as your spine arched.

"Let's take these off, yeah?"

You nodded eagerly, and Robby didn't waste time before pulling your panties away.

"Oh, look at that," Robby muttered. He brought his hand between your legs and slid his fingers gently through your arousal. "So fuckin' wet, isn't she? This all for me, baby?"

"Yes," you breathed out. "Need you, Mikey. So bad."

"I know you do. S'alright, I've got you." Robby took his glasses off and set them on the leather seat beside you, before leaning forward and kissing you right where you needed him most. A shallow breath stuttered out of your chest, but he doesn't give you a moment to gather yourself. His tongue darts out, licking you from your entrance to your clit and then circling.

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Robby obliged your silent instruction, suckling your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue over the pulsing nerves.

His heart was beating fast in his chest, his cock aching to be inside you. He had one hand on your breast, and brought the other to your cunt. Robby finds your opening with two gentle fingers and pushed them in.

"Oh god," you cried out. "That's so good. You feel so—fuck."

Robby curled his fingers inside of you, pushing hard against the softest spot."Talk to me, pretty girl," he urged. "Tell me what feels good."

"M-maybe a little…hmm—a little faster?"

He quickened the pace of his fingers and licked at your clit more feverishly, humming when you give a little gasp in response.

"Fuck—yes, yes. Like that. And—your fingers just a little deeper—just—"

Robby listened like a trained dog, heeding your every beck and call. He pressed deeper, thrusting his fingers upwards until—

"Ohmygod, yes—just like that, just like that please. Don't stop, don't stop—"

He doesn't. Robby licked and sucked at your clit until his spit dripped down onto the leather seat below you. He groaned low at the taste of your arousal, ambrosia made just for him. sweet and youthful and delectable.

He didn't deserve it, Robby knew. Your desire, your love, your light. But he'll eat it all up for as long as you continue to give it.

You clenched around his fingers and Robby pulled his mouth away, strings of saliva snapping against his chin. "You about to cum, baby?"

"Yes, yes, please, Mikey I need it—!"

"Nuh-uh," he said with a shake of his head. He pulled back fully, sliding his fingers out of you and rising to his full height. "M'gonna watch the first time you cum for me. Wanna see it on your face. Wanna feel you milk my cock 'til I fill up that sweet little pussy of yours."

A whimper left your mouth, and Robby could do nothing but smile cause he knew. He knew how needy you feel, how frantic that desire made you. He knew because it lived in him, too.

He pressed your legs upwards, setting the soles of your sneakers against the edge of the backseat. He grabbed at the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head before picking up his glasses and setting them back on his face. "Take it all off," Robby ordered. "Let me see you."

You do as told, quickly adding your hoodie and bra to the growing pile of discarded clothes.

Robby took a minute just to absorb it all; to memorize the way you looked, spread out for him in the backseat of his car, eyes glassy and pupils blown wide. You're the prettiest little thing. Half his age, half his heart.

That four letter L word flitted across his mind, but Robby doesn't give life to it.

Not yet, anyway.

He dragged his hand down the center of your chest instead, but thought you must be able to feel the love in it, manifesting at the very tips of his fingers.

"I want you inside me," you whispered, bringing your hand to his against your chest, holding tight to his knuckles.

Robby nodded and took his cock in his free hand, sliding it through the syrupy wetness between your legs before he lined himself up with your entrance. He pressed his cock in, just the head at first. Enough for him to notch himself there so he can wrap his hand around the back of your neck instead.

He forced you to look at him, eyes locked together as he slowly pushed all the way inside.

You breathed out synchronized sighs of relief the moment he's seated fully inside you, cock pressed right up against your womb.

You're so tight around him, so wet and warm and perfect. Robby began to gently rock his hips, keeping you steady with his heavy hands. One on your chest, the other at the back of your neck. He can feel your heart beating beneath his palm, pulse elevated in the way his likely is.

"God, Mikey—"

You don't need to ask him to quicken his pace, not this time. Robby heard it in your voice. And some old dogs could certainly learn new tricks.

He finds a rhythm that has your eyes threatening to roll back. The perfect tempo, filling you up and fucking you deep. "My girl," he muttered. "My pretty girl. So good to me. Fuck."

Your spine arched off the back of the leather seat, chest pressed more firmly against his hand. "That's so good, so'fucking—mmm."

"Touch yourself for me, baby," Robby said.

You find your clit and circle it with deft, practiced fingers. Robby took note of the direction you move, cataloging the information for later. "It's so—so big—"

"I know, sweet girl. But you can take it, hm? Can't you?"

"Yes, yes—don't stop, please don't stop I'm so close, I'm so—"

The words are broken in your mouth, overtaken by a wanton moan.

"I know you are," he whispered. "Can feel her squeezing me real tight. You gonna cum for me already?"

He'd said it as a taunt, but in truth Robby was no better. He'd been fighting off his own release from the very moment he'd slid his cock inside you.

"Look at me," he ordered, fingers flexed around the back of your neck. And once you do, a satisfied smile formed on his mouth. "Good. Good. Now cum for me, baby. Give it to me."

Your breath halted, the exhale stuck in your chest. And then Robby could feel your cunt pulse around him, and you let out a ragged whimper as your release rocked through you. "Cum with me, please," you cried. "Want you to cum inside, Mikey."

That's what did him in; the sound of your voice, whining out his name. A moniker he only ever allowed you to call him. So fitting, coming from the soft, bright thing you are. "Shit," he hissed, his own orgasm clouding the edges of his vision. "Takin' it all, huh? Yeah, that's it. That's my girl."

He didn't stop, not until he was well and truly spent. Until he'd fucked all of his release into your cunt, until his cock was sensitive and your breathing evened out beneath his palm.

Robby pressed his mouth to yours tenderly and could feel your smile as it formed. He pulled away, stuffed himself back into his jeans and asked, "What's so funny?"

You shook your head. "Nothing, just…I think Trin is calling me."

It's only when you say it that Robby finally heard the buzzing coming from the front seat. He reached towards it, taking your forgotten phone in his hand and examining the screen to find a photo of Trinity with her head in your lap.

Robby remembered the night he'd taken the photo, some third shift party at John's place you'd insisted on crashing. You'd made friends with Trinity in two seconds flat when she'd confessed her part in his Tinder profile to you, much to Robby's dismay.

He passed the device to you. "Wanna answer it?"

You took your phone, clicked the screen once, and pressed it to your ear. "We're late, I'm sorry, I know," you laughed. "We're on our way. Got stuck in traffic. Order me one of those strawberry lemonades."

Robby helped you find your clothes, tugging your panties back over your legs and righting them around your hips. Your leggings were next, and he tried not to think about his cum that slowly spilled out of you to avoid another stop on the way to the diner.

Robby couldn't fight his grin as he found his shirt to pull it back over his head.

"Trin, no. A shot? It's not even noon—well, yeah, now it is, but—!"

You both climbed to the front of his car, and Robby reached over to buckle you in.

"Well…I mean, if it's a mimosa…"

Robby laughed as he turned the key in the ignition. Knew right then and there he'd probably spend half the afternoon taking care of you, but knew good and well that he'd love every moment of it.

He promised himself he'd give you those rose petals later.

But for now, the vibrancy you've painted in his heart is enough.

"I missed you too baby." He returns the sentiment, rubbing your back as he walks you over to the couch. "Wanna eat? Only got a few minutes." He suggests and you nod excitedly. You slowly slide out of his hands, pushing him back to sit in the couch before you scurry off to the kitchen.

You fix him a plate of your homemade meal and grab a cold can of cola before returning to the living room. You can't help your grin as you set everything down on the coffee table in front of him.

"Here, handsome." You chirp, skipping around the table and hopping down in the spot next to him. You lean in close to his side, kissing up his neck because you just can't help yourself. He smells so good, like his cologne mixed with a little sweat from the work day. It drives you crazy.

"Thank you, bunny. This looks amazing - Hey, that tickles!" Sammy nudges you away from his neck when you get carried away. You're blushing and grinning at him as he reaches for the plate, taking a big bite and moaning in satisfaction after swallowing it down. "That's delicious, m'so lucky, - you spoil me bunny." He coos, leaning over to peck your lips thankfully, before taking another bite.

Your hands roam over his chest, fingers dancing between his button to feel the warm skin beneath. It makes your thighs clench together, you scoot closer to hip, one of your knees overlapping his thighs as you kiss his face and neck.

"Bunny, I have to eat," Sammy groans, clearly conflicted by your touch. "Fuck-" He hisses when your knees presses into the fat bulge growing in his slacks.

"I know, Sammy, just wanna make you feel good." You whisper, kissing his jaw and replacing your knee with your hand. You stroke him over his slacks, enjoying how much of him there is to touch and lean against.

Your husband is a stout man and it does something to you. You love every inch of him, from his chubby belly to his chubby cock. You shiver at just the memory of how full he makes you, it makes you whine with need. You've already soaked through your silk shorts just by rubbing your thighs together.

Sammy notices how worked up you're getting, he can always tell when you need him. He quickly shovels a few more bites in while the food is hot before setting the plate back in the coffee table. When he leans back he pulls you into his lap, big hands on your hips as your straddle him.

"C'mere, baby." He coos, finding your lips at the same time he grinds himself between your legs. He groans from the friction and you cry out. The small sensation feels like such a relief, Sammy works you up so much sometimes you wonder if you're spelled, you just need him all the time.

It's not always sexual, you married the man for gods sake. But you can't deny that his special touch in the bedroom drives you just as crazy as his crooked smile and round cheeks. He's your Sammy, and you want to feel him fill you up.

You reach between your bodies, frantically ripping Sammy's slacks open. He kisses your jaw and caresses your body all over, giving you goosebumps despite how warm he is against you. When you finally free his length your hand is instantly wrapped around his wide shaft.

"God, Sammy, I love you so much - need it, need it!" You whine, wiggling in his lap as you're overcome with need. You guide his tip to your clothed entrance, using his mushroom head to slid your shorts aside.

"Woah, woah baby, not yet. You know that. Have you stretched yourself yet today?" Sammy grabs your wrist to slow you down, his other hand cupping your cheek as you pout at him.

"No..." You huff, wanting to skip the prep part and just have him split you open. At this point you're not sure you care. But you know Sammy does, he's always so dedicated to making sure you're ready to take all of him. Sometimes it takes all his fingers and an orgasm before he can pound you the way he likes without bringing you to tears - and he never minds. "But I don't care, we can just grab the lube and..."

"No, baby, you know better than that." Sammy shakes his head and it makes you pout further. You're just so desperate for him, it's getting more and more unbearable by the second. "Take your bottoms off and I'll get you ready, hurry." He encourages, guiding you off his lap.

You stand up, giggling with excitement. Sammy grabs a few more bites of his food as you undress from the waist down. You swirl your own fingers over your clit as soon as you're exposed, biting your lip to stifle your noises as the relief sets in. It's not enough but it'll keep you from crying for now.

"Bunnyyy - c'mere," He huffs, losing his breath at the sight of your slim fingers swirling around in your wet, messy, pussy.

"Finish your food, I'll start." You encourage, trying to stand up straight in front of him. Sammy picks up his plate with haste and it makes you blush. You place your non working hand on his shoulder for balance as you sink a finger into your dripping cunt. The twinge of relief makes you whiny which makes it nearly impossible for Sammy to control himself.

"Do another bunny, I know you can take it, I hear how wet you are." Sammy begs of you. When you listen however it has him at his wits end. He's right though, your second finger glides in along with your first with no resistance. "Good girl, such a pretty pussy." He whines, reaching for you but you redirect him to his plate. He coughs on his food when you start fucking yourself with real force and speed.

"Hurry up and eat, need your fingers instead." You tell him when you become impatient. He scarfs down the remnants on his plate before tossing it on the table. He shoves his slacks down around his hips, grabbing your arms and dragging you all the way back to him. You slide between his legs instead of crawling into his lap and his shivers.

"Baby, you don't gotta do that." He pets your hair and tilts his head.

"I want to." You assure him, grabbing his length with both of your hands before wrapping your mouth around his tip. He bucks up accidentally, forcing himself to the top of your mouth as distorted sounds escape him.

"M'so sorry, baby - didn't mean that, fuck, keep going - please!" He grunts out, petting your head as his lays back on the couch.

You swirl your tongue around him, bobbing up and down a few times at a comfortable depth. Sammy whines and writhes under your touch, you can see him resisting the urge to take over and fuck your mouth. He knows he'd have you gagging and choking and you'd love it but he just doesn't have time to indulge that far.

So, he lets you sputter for a few moments, enjoying the show you put on for him while you have your fun. When he can't take it anymore he grabs your arms and drags you back to his lap. You straddle his thick thighs as he guides you to slide your slick pussy along his shaft.

He slides a hand between your legs, his blunt finger tips teasing your entrance. You whimper and shift down against him, begging for more.

"You're so wet, bunny. She needs me, doesn't she?" Sammy asks earnestly, kissing your lips and teasing you with his tongue as he sinks a finger into you. You whine and nod your head to agree with him.

"Your pretty little pussy is dripping for my chubby cock all the time, huh? She wants to be stretched wide, hm?" He continues, fucking you faster so you're practically incoherent just off one finger.

"Could take my bunny's pussy anytime I want 'cause she's always ready for me?" Sammy sinks a seconds finger into you, dripping down his own shaft at the sounds you make.

"Oh, god, Sammy! I love your words but please - please stop teasing me, gimme your cock!" You beg and plead, wiggling your hips around and digging your fingers into his shoulders.

"Think you can take me already? Without being properly prepped?" He looks up at you with curious eyes.

"Yes! Sammy, give it to me, please!" You go on with your whining and he finds it so endearing. He loves that his wife can't get enough of him, that she's so eager even knowing that it'll be too much. He's the same way with you, risking returning late just to get a good orgasm out of you.

"C'mon, baby," He instructs, slipping his fingers out of you and grabbing your hips to pull you closer. You go eagerly, holding his shoulders for balance as you hover over him. He guides his tip to your soaking entrance and you whimper, instantly shifting for more. "Hey, hey, go slow!" Sammy urges, sounding so worried about you.

You don't head his warning, forcing his tip and a little more inside your cunt. Sammy shudders and digs his fingers into your hips, clearly struggling to hold back. You're a whiny mess, the burn of the stretch egging you on. It hurts so good.

"Oh god, yes Sammy!" You cry out, writhing uncontrollably. Every thrust you manage to stuff a little bit more of him inside of you, so desperate and determined to take all of him.

The stretch has tears stinging in your eyes, stealing the air from your lungs, leaving you an absolute mess on top of him. Sammy holds your flushed face in his hands, his own pleasure all over his face as he watches you struggle to get all of him in.

"So, so beautiful bunny! Please be careful - don't hurt yourself, - ah! Fuck!" He tries to slow you down but your fight back, slamming yourself down with all your might.

You're too impatient to wait for your pussy to stretch gradually, instead you grind your swollen clit against the sparse happy trail on Sammy's lower belly, where his shirt rode up, to help. He's a sputtering mess, trying to get you to calm down and breathe for a moment.

It doesn't work, you move too quickly and with too much determination, he can't tame you. He holds you close and tight, kissing you anywhere he can reach, hands groping your ass for comfort.

"Mm, love you so much, bunny. Love the way you bounce on me, so so pretty." Sammy praises, petting your hair and face, nails down your back as he kisses the whimpers out of you.

"Fuck me back, Sammy, please!" You beg, kissing his lips to seal your request.

"I can't baby, it'll hurt," He argues gently but you just won't hear it.

"I don't care! It's not enough, I need all of you - please, fuck me back!" You continue on, practically hysterical by this point.

"I got you, baby." He huffs, wrapping his arms under yours and bringing you to on his chest. "I'll give you what you need, don't worry." Sammy uses his leverage to bounce you off of him as he starts thrusting up into you.

"That's why you married me isn't it?" Sammy groans into your neck. "Cause I know how to take care of you, I know what my bunny needs." His lips trace down your neck, hands rough and demanding on your hips.

"You take such good care of me, baby." You whine back to him, your voice cracking with tears.

His pace is relentless, just like what you begged for. The pain echos through you, along with the the tingles of pleasure that follow. You start to wonder if you've become a masochist for your husband's cock.

He fucks you until you're a blubbering mess, sniffling through the moans bellowing out if you. Sammy and you work together to keep a steady pace, he kisses the tears from your cheeks and holds you close.

"Let it out, baby, I know, I know." He coos at you, caressing your legs and your back to soothe you. "I can feel you getting close, bunny." He whispers, nudging your face with his nose. You whimper back, intimidated by the pressure building in your belly.

"S'too much, Sammy. You come!" You insist, making Sammy scoff at you.

"You must be fucked silly on my big fat cock, huh? Thinking I'm gonna come before you, ridiculous." He shakes his head, holding your jaw to lift you away from his chest where you lay.

He holds you up right, his free hand reaching for your swollen clit. You try to bag his nimble fingers away but he's too strong, circling your nerves so expertly you start shaking.

"What makes you think I'm going to let you not come? - you become such a dumb bunny when I give every inch of me." His fingers and fat cock work you to the edge quicker than you can register.

"Sammy," You whisper, your body going limp in his hold as your orgasm bursts through you. Your eyes roll back in your head, your husband's strong hands hold you up as he pounds you through it.

"That's it, baby, - fuck! You grip me so good, - gonna make me come too." He grunts out, his hips stuttering as you start to come down. You might as well be a ragdoll as Sammy fucks himself through his orgasm. He's so deep it makes you hiccup every few thrusts from the depth, you can feel him in your belly and he loves it. He spends a few extra thrusts making sure his come stays deep inside you.

When he's finished making a mess of you and slowly eases his half hard cock out of you, kissing you the whole time as a distraction. He scoops your limp body up in his hands and lays you down on the couch, kissing your face and lips as you return to earth.

He guides your panties back up your legs and over your plump ass, tapping a cheek for encouragement once you're covered.

"Love you so much, Sammy. - You felt so good." You mumble, almost incoherent but he can understand you. His gentle hands are on your face, making sure now hair is out of place.

"Love you too, bunny." He whispers, covering you up with a blanket and kissing your forehead. "Don't clean up, okay? I still wanna be inside you when I get home." He requests, nuzzling your nose.

"Wouldn't think of it, Sammy." You hum, cuddling his large hand.

"Gotta get back to work now, baby. - Thank you for lunch." He kisses you again, hesitating to pull his arm away from you.

"Anyyytime." You sing, winking at him even though your eyes burn.

"Get some rest for me. I'll see you so soon." He coos, pecking you gently as you start to get drowsy. You hear him say other sweet things, how he loves you and can't wait to come back home to you.

You doze off, the adrenaline gone now so you're exhausted. The feeling of being so full of your husband even as he returns to work follows you into your dreams.

the simple answer: he has no idea what to do with you. but he wouldn't admit that in a million years, so he just acts like he can tolerate the rainbows and unicorns that follow you around.

he brings them down with him on a consult in the ED, some construction worker with a severed hand that had high hopes of reattachment.

everyone puts on their best military-grade facade, even garcia's back straightens noticeably because park is just that much of a dick to everyone.

and here comes reader, practically buzzing with excitement as they trail right on brendon's heels. it really throws everyone for a loop because you're so close to him, and you're the one asking all the questions to robby—who seems so chuffed by all of this—and he answers happily.

park unwraps the hand and you're right there with him, cheek squished against his meaty bicep with eyes glimmering bright with wonder. you're grinning with delight and clapping your hands when brendon green-lights the reattachment.

and then you're both gone, park the shark being tailed by a little intern bristling with anticipation.

everyone is fucking gobsmacked because, what the fuck? since when was anyone under park's supervision happy to be there?

it wasn't uncommon to see park followed by a brood of his residents. the usual joke was that they were his shark pups, his offspring that he molded into annoyingly good surgeons.

but that doesn't apply to you. you're nothing like him, yet you learn from him all the same. your relationship is almost symbiotic, in a way, where you thrive on the challenges he throws at you and he secretly feeds off of the warmth you radiate.

and the correlation smacks garcia square in the face after crossing paths with the two about five ED consults later.

you are his remora. you clean up the mess of his apathy and he feeds you the fruit of his knowledge.

and that's what she starts calling you—that's what everyone starts calling you.

and brendon? he starts to call you the stupid name too.

but to him, it's possessive. it is a name that claims you as his own, not as offspring, but as something far more important that he doesn't want to name.

"i'll write a recommendation letter for you," he says one quiet afternoon when you're both munching on leftovers in the breakroom.

you're confused, he can tell by the apparent tilt of your head.

"when you complete your residency. i'll recommend you for an attending position here."

"... that is disgustingly generous for a guy like you."

"i won't work without my remora."

stay tuned for season 48 episode 7 when they finally kiss and hold hands🙂🙂🙂

Understanding better than to ask about the cause, you set the book aside and allowed him to adjust the skirts around your waist, positioning his body over yours. He unlaced his pants, allowing his thick cock to spring free. In an instant, he plunged deep into your wet, pulsing heat, accompanied by a shuddering exhale that caressed the shell of your ear.

Your walls stretched at the familiarity of his size, fingers pressing into the taut muscles of his shoulder. Yet, instead of moving his hips to seek release, Ormund remained still.

He slowly lowered himself onto you, nestling his face into the crease of your shoulder. A soft hum escaped him as he settled comfortably. "The petitions. Read them for me, please."

With one hand gently tousling his hair, you reached for the stack of letters beside you with the other. Holding the first page up, you began to scan the words for Ormund.

"Lord Redwyne addressed the shipping tariffs in the bay," you began. His body was fully relaxed now, given over entirely to the soothing sound of your voice.

It was an intoxicating feeling. While your voice carried on about the tedious bureaucracy of a Great House, your insides, on the other hand, were wrapped around the hardness of a man who had momentarily forgotten how to breathe.

When the letter brought up a dispute over wool shipments, you noticed a slight tightening in his core.

“Did he truly expect a rebate on the harbor fees?” Ormund’s voice vibrated low, a minuscule movement that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your nerves.

“Hmm, he only said that the storms damaged three of his main vessels. Nothing beyond that,” you said, turning your face to catch a better glimpse of his handsome features. He offered no reply, only drawing closer and hiding his face in the crook of your neck, taking comfort in the familiar scent of your oils.

He nudged his hips upward to adjust his position slightly. A slow, grinding pressure that made your toes curl into the velvet upholstery. You could sense a rhythmic throb. The desire to rock on him was overwhelming, but you knew better than to rush him before he cleared his mind.

This was one of the reasons he constantly sought your company. He often expressed that the world demanded he embody the name ‘Hightower’ - to be rigid, cold, and unyielding. But here, in the embrace of the woman he loved, cocooned by your warmth, he was permitted to be soft.

The more you read the flowery prose and the fervent pleas for prestige, the more you felt him relax, shedding every burden of the day.

You turned to the next letter, a petition from a lesser house requesting a marriage alliance, as it mentioned. "This is quite tedious, my dear husband. Are you prepared for this?" you asked with a playful tone.

He responded with a low groan, weary of the endless petitions and demands that came with his role as the Lord of Oldtown. "Just read it. I enjoy the sound of your voice, especially when you're bored.”

As you giggled, the vibration rippled through you before reaching the place where your bodies were connected. Ormund let out a deep growl before nibbling on your neck, causing your breath to catch. “Stop moving,” he pleaded.

A soft moan escaped your lips as you began to feel a pulsating need in your pussy. You weren’t sure how much longer you could endure this. "The petition asks for a marriage alliance to be considered between—"

"Deny it," he interrupted, cutting you off mid-sentence.

“I haven’t read the rest. Let me finish,” you bit your lip to keep from laughing.

"I don't need to hear it to know the sheer absurdity these men are requesting. Utter nonsense." He shifted his weight once more, pinning you securely against him, allowing you to feel the soft brush of his chest hair against your skin. 

The heat between you had escalated to a feverish intensity, a shimmering warmth that made your head spin. You closed your eyes and let the parchment slip from your fingers, fluttering down like a fallen leaf.

Urging him to penetrate deeper, you wrapped your legs around his waist. The abrupt change in pressure caused him to let out a sharp hiss. Ormund froze, his muscles growing tense.

“All good?” you asked. Dampness pooled around your thighs.

“You’re too… mm— warm,” he choked out a reply. The way he clung to you indicated he never wanted to escape the sensation.

But Ormund remained still, teetering on the brink of something, unwilling to break the spell. You knew he craved the tension to build, the slow burn of warmth to ignite into a raging fire.

So you decided to make the first move. Reaching up, you threaded your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, drawing his head closer for a kiss. His lips were infused with salt and yearning. His tongue danced with yours before he softly whispered your name into your mouth.

The room seemed to constrict until all that remained was the aroma of oils and the sound of tongue sliding against tongue. Then slowly, he began to move.

“I can't remain still any longer,” Ormund said. His eyes were heavy-lidded and dark, a blend of fatigue and desire.

“Fill me then, darling,” you commanded.

He needed no further instruction. Ormund lunged forward, pumping in and out, in and out, completely losing the composure of Lord Hightower. The way he thrust into you revealed a desperation born of hours of pent-up desire; his movements were raw and unrefined.

You matched him stroke for stroke, bodies colliding with a wet slap that echoed in the quiet of the room. It was like a war drum.

His name flowed from your lips sweetly like honey, “Ormund, Ormund, Ormund.”

The climax that arrived felt like a cascading wave. You sensed him shudder intensely, his whole body trembling with the force of his release. His cock twitched as he spilled his seed inside you, while you let out a long, broken sob of relief. Ormund held you close, tightening his grip and drawing out every last bit of tension from his body.

After some time, he turned to face you, smiling as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead and showering your damp skin with kisses. His now-soft member remained deep inside you, showing no signs of withdrawing soon.

As your own breathing began to calm, your gaze wandered to the letters strewn across the bed. There were still many that required his attention and decision. "We missed a few. There’s one from the Citadel though."

Ormund let out a rumbling groan and sank back down. Resting his cheek against your chest, he closed his eyes, content to remain enveloped in your warmth until the sun set and the world called its lord back once more.

"Read to me, my darling," he murmured, his voice trailing off as he almost drifted into sleep. "Let me hear your voice."

You reached down to retrieve the crumpled papers and began to read again. Your voice flowed softly in the room, a gentle counterpoint to the raw act that had just happened. Tales of tariffs, Citadel appointments, and the everyday disputes of men filled the silence as you continued, creating a world of words around you both - a cocoon of stories and skin.

Ormund stirred slightly, an instinctive movement that reminded you he was still there, still connected, still yours.

As the candles burned low and darkness enveloped the room, you kissed his shoulder and leaned back into the velvet, gazing up at the ceiling while listening to the distant chime of the tower bell.

The world continued to spin; the politics of the Seven Kingdoms persisted. But in this room, time had come to a standstill.

All that existed was the scent of your skin, the feel of silk, and the enduring, golden warmth of a man who feared that the heat might dissipate if he released his hold on his wife, even for a moment.

Tag requests: @lexie983 @fandomtrela @kiem16 @xcrybaby555x 🤍

Daemon stood in the courtyard, swinging around his sword, the Dark Sister. He was simply doing so to keep himself in shape. Commanding the City Watch, he had to remain agile and ready for anything. He was fierce and feared for a reason. Though his methods of keeping City Watch in check may be deemed barbaric, Daemon hardly cared.

As he swung around his sword, practicing his techniques, Daemon didn't notice the fact that you were standing near the garden, watching Daemon while biting your lip. It was obvious you and Daemon had something go on together, that much was true. However, no one, absolutely no one, knew about the strong attraction you felt for Daemon whenever he held his sword.

The mere sight of him swinging it around was enough to have you clenching your thighs, wishing he'd fuck you while holding the sword up against you. You never wished to be an enemy more than when Daemon was with his sword. You had spent plenty of nights thinking about how good the metal would feel against the warmth of your body, the fear you'd feel as he would hold it against your neck, or even the occasional thought of being fucked by the handle of the sword. Now that thought? It never failed to have you clenching around your own fingers, moaning Daemon's name.

There had been times while having sex with the Rogue Prince where he'd use a knife, simply holding it against your neck as he pounded into you with veracity and need. That turned you on unbelievably so and since the first time, you'd been imagining it was the Dark Sister in replacement of the knife.

Overcome with arousal, you took a deep breath and made your way back into the castle, not wanting to distract Daemon from his training to fuck the living daylights out of you. Though you were sure he wouldn't mind if you did distract him, he was always ready to pound you at every given moment. However, you knew how important it was for him to train.

Over the course of a week, it was the very same. You'd go to the courtyard to watch Daemon train, hoping he doesn't see the way he moves his sword while he moves about in such artistic ways. What you hadn't realized, however, is that Daemon's been noticing you when he's training and has noticed the fact you keep staring at his sword.

And so, one night, after a week of you watching Daemon, he took you into his chambers and began everything as normal. The two of you were stood in the middle of the room, kissing one another intensely. Daemon had his hands on your face while yours were on his chest, resting there. His tongue moved against yours in your mouth as your lips moved in sync.

You were already aroused as you usually were around Daemon. His kisses were intoxicating and you had pent up arousal from your lewd thoughts throughout the week. He pulled away from the kiss, dipping his head to your neck as he moved his hands to your dress. His fingers worked to undo the material while he kissed the skin of your neck.

A soft noise escaped your lips as he found your pulse, licking the vein before nipping at it. He undid your dress, pulling away to help your arms out of it and allowing the dress to fall to the floor, leaving you in your chemise. It was hardly a special dress, just a simple red dress you had worn for the day.

"I've spent many a night in your pleasures," Daemon began, looking at you with a heated expression. "And yet, each time I am always mesmerized by your beauty." His fingers moved underneath your chin, holding your face to look at him.

"Surely, My Prince, you've bedded much beautiful women than I," You replied, licking your lips.

Daemon made a noise of disagreement. "No one could compare to you, sweet girl," He said, his voice deep. He placed his hands on your hips, maneuvering himself so he was behind you. "The embodiment of blessed by the Gods themselves," He murmured, his breath hot against your ear. His breath sent a shiver down your spine, causing Daemon to let out a low chuckle.

Daemon kissed your skin from your ear to your neck, his hands moving to pull the chemise off of you. The silky material fell to the ground, leaving you exposed. The air in the room was a bit chilled but that didn't matter, not when you were so hot and bothered by the man behind you. Daemon was always warm, he always burned like the dragon within him.

Daemon's hands made their way to your breasts, eliciting a moan from you as he began massaging the mounds of flesh. He thumbed your nipples in circles while sucking on your neck, leaving marks on the skin. "Daemon," You called out in almost a whisper.

With a hand still on your left breast, Daemon's other hand moved downward to your cunt. You bit your lip in anticipation, your arousal more prominent than before. His middle finger went to your slit, spreading around your wetness. "I've noticed something interesting," Daemon whispered into your ear.

"And what would that be?" You replied breathlessly, bringing your hand on top of Daemon's on your breast.

Daemon let out a pleased hum at the action as his middle finger moved to rub your clit. You let out a moan, relieved to be finally receiving some sort of pleasure after such a long week. "Your sudden interest in Dark Sister," he said, still gently rubbing your clit in circles. He added his pointer finger, giving you more pleasure.

You gasped, unable to help looking across the room at the sword in question. "How did you-?" You tried to ask but Daemon cut you off.

"How did I find out?" He asked. He licked his lips, moving his fingers from your clit to your hole as he inserted a finger. "Someone's been watching me in the courtyard this week," he said, burying his middle finger deeply inside of you. He began moving it gently. "Do you want me to fuck you while I hold the sword against you?" He asked.

You didn't bother to answer because knowing Daemon, he likely already knew what you desperately wanted. "Daemon," You moaned gently as he pumped his finger in and out of you.

"Or," He continued, ignoring your small plea. "Perhaps," He added a second finger and curled them inside of you. "You want me to fuck you with Dark Sister," He said as he began thrusting both fingers inside of you faster.

You whined, nodding your head in response as you moaned louder. "Oh my," You mewled, closing your eyes in pleasure.

"Dirty girl," Daemon said teasingly, continuing his movements. His fingers repeatedly grazing your sweet spot inside of you.

You could feel that familiar heat building inside of you as Daemon finger-fucked you. The whines and moans that left your lips were rather whorish of you but you could hardly care when it felt so good. "Daemon," You moaned. "I-I'm so close."

"Well, we can't have that quite yet," He replied, pulling his fingers from your dripping cunt.

At the sudden loss of contact, you whined, a pout forming on your lips.

"Hush," Daemon said, placing his hands on your hips. He gently guided you to the bed, making you sit on the edge.

You looked up at Daemon with a confused look. "What are you doing?" You asked as Daemon walked across the room.

"Well," He began, his back facing away from you. "My dear, you've been having interesting thoughts about my sword. What kind of lover would I be if I didn't make your fantasies a reality, hmm?" He asked as he grabbed his sword and walked back over to you.

You bit your lip as you watched Daemon, your heart pounding in your chest. The sword had been your interest the past week. With the way Daemon was moving around with it and how beautiful the handle truly was. The fact that Daemon's used it in many battles, fought many enemies with it. The Dark Sister was wielded with steel from Valyria itself. It was unique and unlike any other sword.

Daemon got down on his knees in front of you, his sword in hand with the blade facing downward toward the ground. He looked up at you before glancing at his sword. "To have your essence grace the handle of Dark Sister would be a sign of good luck and fortune in battle," he murmured, stroking the handle of his sword. "I'd never aim the blade at you," He continued. "One touch of the Valryian Steel and you'd be bleeding out."

The thought shouldn't excite you as much as it did. It was morbid, to say the least. But the idea of being killed in such a way would indeed be a blessing. The Gods blessed the Targaryen with the Dragon. And Valaryian Steel was the steel that signified a warrior. "A death such as that does not seem like a bad one to have," you whispered.

"Perhaps not," Daemon whispered back, his eyes dark. He glanced up at you. "I, however, don't wish to kill you in any way, shape, or form," he licked his lips before continuing what he had been saying before. "I'd never aim the blade at you. But I'm sure the handle would be far more pleasurable."

He brought the handle of the sword to your thigh, the cool metal hitting your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You let out a shaky breath, your arousal still prominent. You instinctively spread your legs, revealing your cunt, glistening so prettily, to the cool air. "Please," you breathed out, eyes fixated on the handle of the sword.

"Please, what?" Daemon asked, a smirk forming on his lips as he traced your inner thigh with the handle. "You only get what you want if you use your words."

A small whine of protest left your lips. You had been far too embarrassed to express your desires out loud thus far. Daemon, however, as cruel as he may be, always craved your consent. An openness in such a way was vital in any sexual engagement with him. "I-" You hesitated, clearing your throat. "I want you to-" You stopped yourself once more. You were very warm, overly so, even though the air was cool.

"Want me to what?" Daemon asked, encouraging you to continue.

"I want you to…fuck me with your sword," you said, whispering the last part a bit too quickly, hoping Daemon wouldn't make you say it again.

And luckily, he wasn't going to. He let out a small hum of approval, the smirk still on his lips. "Good girl," he replied.

You let out a breath of relief which quickly turned into a moan when Daemon pressed the tip of the handle to your slit. He moved the tip up and down, smearing your slick onto the handle. The handle was cold which felt amazing due to how warm you were.

Daemon brought the tip of the handle to your clit, teasing the bud a few times. The sensation caused you to gasp and moan as you looked down and watched what was happening between your legs. "Fuck," you whispered out as a jolt of pleasure was felt through your cunt.

"You like that, don't you?" Daemon practically cooed as he looked up at you. His words were followed by the handle moving to your hole. "Should I give you more?" He asked.

You nodded your head, looking at the blond man kneeling in front of you. "Yes, please," you licked your lips.

"My sweet girl," Daemon said with a smirk on his lips. He was always proud when you used manners with him and you couldn't deny how his praises always made you feel good. Without any further hesitation, Daemon began to gently insert the handle of the sword inside you, eliciting a loud moan from your lips.

It was perfect, really. It felt much better than you had imagined. The coolness of the metal inside of you was welcoming. It added to the arousal you felt, if it were even possible to feel more aroused than you already were. "Daemon," you groaned as your eyes fluttered shut.

It was different than being filled with fingers or a cock, certainly more stiff. But the feeling of being filled was always so pleasurable. You adored it.

"My girls," Daemon said in adoration. "Becoming one," he finished as he continued inserting the handle into you more. He stopped once the guard, the part he was holding, hit your thighs. He didn't bother waiting for you to adjust as he pulled it back out. He continued a slow pace, dragging the handle in and out of your cunt.

You moaned at the feeling, relishing in the pleasure Dark Sister was blessing you with. "Oh my god," you spoke, your fingers gripping the edge of the bed below you.

Daemon began picking up the pace, causing your moans to get louder. "Look at you," Daemon purred. "You look like a dirty whore, getting off on Dark Sister."

"Daemon!" You whined as the sword grazed your g-spot. "Fuck!"

Daemon's chuckle sent a shiver down your spine as he watched you in adoration. The man loved watching all of the ways you could fall apart and having you do so on his sword had his cock aching more than he'd thought possible.

You could feel that familiar heat building inside of you once more as your orgasm drew near. The room was filled with the sound of your slick as the sword was thrusted in and out of you at a rhythmic pace and your noises helped fill the room as well. You knew it wouldn't be long until you were falling apart completely.

"Oh my- fuck," you mewled, throwing your head back in pleasure. "I'm so close, Daemon!"

Daemon hummed in acknowledgment, focused on keeping the pace as he moved the sword in and out of you. "Go ahead, my dear," he spoke, urging you on. "Cum for me, cum for Dark Sister."

That was all you needed before you cried out in pleasure, eyes rolling back as your thighs shook as your orgasm overcame you. You moaned Daemon's name, cumming on his sword.

Watching you come undone on his sword had Daemon mesmerized. His cock was aching and leaking in his breeches, wishing for some sort of relief. When you finished, Daemon carefully pulled the sword out of you before allowing the weapon to fall to the floor completely. He was overcome with his own arousal and need for pleasure as he stood up and began undoing his pants.

You opened your eyes and looked at the man before you, watching as he undid his clothes. "Are you going to fuck me now?" You asked breathlessly, looking up at Daemon with a post-orgasmic smile.

"Yes," he said, smirking at you. "Now turn around and get on your hands and knees."