Lady of the Underground.

Six months. Twenty-six weeks. One hundred and eighty-two days. For six months, your company had become regulars for Kyle’s delivery company. Express delivery. First class delivery. Business class delivery. Second-day delivery. Just about every kind of crappy ‘deal’ or overprized ‘special’ offer that his company offered, yours accepted liked chums. It felt like just about every single day, he’d see you⎯hidden by this big old glass desk and smelling of expensive coffee. 

Sometimes in the morning to pick up monstrous packages that killed his lower back to carry back to the truck, greeted by your half-awake smile and a weak apology for not being able to help him with the packages. Sometimes in the evening, when you had a stack of papers that needed to be delivered before midnight, greeted by a frazzled look and a hushed joke about ‘work am I right?’.

Sometimes, he’d just show up and pretend like he was just checking if there were any more packages. Your building had great air conditioning. Plus, the free wifi was nice. But, those things really were just little extras on top of being able to see you. The way that you rolled your chair around behind your desk, scrambling to grab papers and answer phone calls. The way you would put on the sweet smile and pretend like you didn’t want to strangle entitled co-workers.

Pushing open the door to the lobby with his elbow, he cowers slightly at the soft beep of the sensor, feeling like a sore thumb in the sea of polished tile and marble offices. Here he was in thrift store work boots, surrounded by these perfect and polished offices that he would never see the light of unless he was scrubbing the floors of them. Finding your receptionist desk, it was like a breath of fresh air, a tiny glimmer of color in the cold unwelcoming office lobby. Watching you brush away some guy in a suit, he chews on his bottom lip, picking at the skin with his teeth. He should've just stayed in his truck, eating his sad excuse of a sandwich. He shouldn’t fucking be in here.

“Kyle!” You perk up in your seat, a bright smile spreading on your lips. 

“Uh..hey, ( Y/n ).” He weakly waves, cringing at how awkward his words come out.

“Hi!” You lean over the desk to motion him closer, “Come on, I stole us some sandwiches from the potluck. They're like those super expensive ones from that fancy BBQ place around the corner.”

“You didn’t have to.” He argues, praying that it wouldn’t get you in trouble.

“As if I wasn’t going to let you starve!” You argue, “Plus, they're gonna buy these ridiculously overpriced donuts for dessert, so they won’t even notice if something goes missing.”

Cracking a soft smile at your insistence he eat the stolen food, you push yourself off the desk, heels clacking as you scramble to unlock the door for him. Fuck, you were sweet. Too fucking sweet, really. Most receptionists wouldn’t bat an eye at him, yet here you were⎯offering him food. Pushing open the door, you practically drag him inside by the shirt, ushering him to the secret stash of stolen food from the potluck. There on a small corner of the desk was a stack of plastic takeout boxes filled with food. Biting back a chuckle of amusement, he could smell the sweet brown sugar rub of the BBQ in the air, different from your usual smell of coffee. But, it was still nice.

“You really don’t have to…” 

“Oh hush! Like I said, they won’t notice.” You argue, “So tell me, which one do you want?”

“Uh..what is there?” 

“So..um..” You chew on your bottom lip, sorting through the boxes. 

Moving some boxes around on the countertop, you furrow your brows in focus, trying to read the label. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he glances over your side profile, lingering on the way that your lips part softly. Your hair was curled and styled. Your makeup was glittery and perfect. Your suit was silky and unwrinkled. Everything about you was clearly meant to match with the aesthetics of the office. Something expensive. Something above his pay grade. 

“This is pulled pork, and this one is barbecue chicken.” You point to each box, “This one is..some kind of brown sugar  rub on ribs, I think? And this is the cornbread with macaroni n’ cheese.”

“I’ll take the smallest one..” 

“Kyle..” You shoot him an annoyed look, “Don’t you start with that nonsense. Take what you want, or even take all of it home.” 

“I can’t do that to you.” He sighs, hating the thought of stealing food from you.

“Kyle, don’t make me shove these into your pants. Just take some, I get this stuff all the time.” You threaten, a playful smile on your lips. “This is no different.” 

Chewing harder on the inside of his cheek, he looks at the rows of take-out boxes, lingering on box of pulled pork. The box was stuffed full, tiny pieces of pulled pork threatening to fall onto your desk. Hesitantly grabbing the box, he tenses up involuntarily, just waiting for you to protest against it. But, you don’t. Popping open the container of cornbread, you grab a small handful, picking it apart as you eat it in pieces. He remembered you said something about it ‘burning calories’.

“Ahh, that’s a good choice.” You nod your head in approval, “This stuff is like crack to the managers. They buy like the catering size cause they totally pig out on it.”

“Yeah?” He raises a brow, amused by your explanation.

“Mm-hm, it’s ridiculous.” You nod, “Almost as ridiculous considering they all bitch about how fat they are, when they all fit in a size small. Like don’t start with that whole ‘I am fat’ bullshit, it makes me feel like shit when I go get seconds or look in a mirror.”

“Yeah..I guess.” He shrugs, not really sure how to respond to that.

“I think that if you’re gonna be miserable, do it at home. Don’t bring it to work.” You chew on a piece of cornbread, “So, besides how shitty my co-workers are. Tell me, how is work? Any gossip with you?”

Thinking over your words, he hesitates in answering back, because in all honesty he did have some shit that he wanted to get off his chest. His co-workers were assholes. His manager was an even bigger asshole. He had to work overtime three times this week alone. His lower back was killing him. He really didn’t want to go back to work, and deal with entitled clients. Oh, and he was fucking crushing on you like a total pussy. Looking down at the takeout box, he pops open the lip, half-heartedly picking at the pulled pork with his fork. He shouldn’t gossip, he shouldn’t. It would look bad on his company’s part, almost as bad as him sitting behind your desk and eating food. 

“Nah..” He shakes his head, “Just the usual..working overtime and my back killing me.”

“Yeah?” You chew on your bottom lip, nodding along at his words.

“Yeah.” He nods, not thinking twice about your concern.

“You know..I know a really good massage place, can fix that back of yours. But, it only does couple massages though.” You suggest carefully, a light coyness in your tone. 

Not really paying attention to your words, he shakes his head at the suggestion, his mind already calculating the cost of this potential massage. He was stretched thin this month on money. Hell, coming here was pushing it. Taking a bite of the pulled pork, he bites back a groan, the taste of brown sugar and smokey meat taking like heaven after not eating all day. Glancing back up to you, you stare at him with a mix of amusement and curiosity for his response. 

“I probably can’t afford it⎯” He pauses, the realization clicking in his head. “Oh..”

“Yeah..so, what do you say?” You chew on your bottom lip, “Up for a little massage, Kyle?”

Chewing on your bottom lip in focus, you could feel his predatory stare on you, watching as you carefully peel off the dented armor off him. You thought that you would have to cut it off of him from how dented it was. But luckily the latches were still intact. Placing the dented codpiece down on the floor, you resist the urge to smirk, his throbbing erection straining against his sweat soaked small clothes. He had taken what was supposed to be a lethal blow to the ribs. He should be dead. But, he defied nature and continued to live⎯seemingly the promise of you tending to him keeping him spitefully alive. Ignoring the way he leans back on his heels to bring it closer to your face, you innocently begin to remove the armor on his thighs and knees, unraveling the knotted straps. His face instantly turning sour at your teasing.

“You torment me.” He grumbles, teeth clenching at your teasing.

“I am removing your armor, Ser.” You play coy, “Just as I had promised that I would, should you have survived the tourney. Which you have.”

“You promised me other things as well.” He argues, shooting you a glare.

“I did no such thing, good Ser.” You click your tongue scoldingly, “I only promised to help you remove your armor. I am a good noble lady, I would never dare to dishonor myself by tainting my maidenhead.”

Lies. You both knew it. You had promised to ride him until dawn broke if he won the tourney⎯which he did. Grinding his teeth together in wavering restraint, you peel off the armor plates, smoothing out the padding of his linen breeches. A patch of the fabric was torn, ripped from where the armor had dented and got caught on it. Brushing your finger against the exposed patch of skin, he jolts at the touch, taking a sharp breath in. You sear you could see another droplet of sweat drip down his face. Cracking a grin for a second at his reaction, you begin to unlace the breeches, letting them slowly grow baggier until they threaten to slip down his broad hips. 

You could smell lingering blood and leather on his skin. You could taste his sweat on your tongue already. Stopping just at the final lace of his breeches, he stares down at you with hooded eyes, pupils so dilated that you couldn’t tell if his iris was red or blue anymore. His breathing is labored, body trembling from what exactly⎯lust? Self-control? Anger from your teasing? Or all of the above? You couldn’t tell. Dragging your tongue over your top lip, you wanted to keep tormenting him, to really push the boundaries of his restraint. But, the desire to lick the sweat off his navel until he was whimpering underneath you was far too tempting. Far far far too tempting.

“You tease far too much, wife.” He complains, his gaze sharpening.

You don’t respond, not having a good comeback for him.

“Won’t you clean your Lord?” 

Rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip, you shudder violently, the slickness between your thighs grows embarrassingly. You were supposed to be the one in control, not him. Opening his mouth to speak, you could already hear the witty comment on the tip of his tongue, most likely about how aroused you already were. You were, yes. But, you didn’t need to hear it from him. Unraveling the final lace of his breeches, you pull them down his thighs, the sweat on his skin making the linen stick a few times. Peeling them off him with an impatient huff, you chew on your bottom lip hard, the sight of his small clothes only making you more impatient. Damn these many layers.

“Impatient?” He chuckles, watching you through his lashes.

“I am. Problem?” You huff, fumbling to remove the laces as quickly as possible. 

“None.” He smirks, “Though you seemingly do with how many layers I am wearing.” 

“Too many.” 

“To you it might be, but it is needed for my armor.” He explains, taking enjoyment of your huffing and puffing of annoyance. “Unless you want me to get nicked every time I wear it?”

No, you didn’t. But, it was still too many for your liking. Shifting some of your weight off your aching knees, you yank down his small clothes, his erection springing free. It slaps against his lower stomach, making you shudder at the sound it makes. Wet and filthy. Chewing harder on your bottom lip, pre-cum slowly oozes out, sending a jolt of searing wetness between your thighs. It shouldn’t make you this wet, but it did. Wrapping your hand around his shaft, you slowly pull back the foreskin to reveal the tip, giggling softly at the pretty shade of bright red it flushed.

Taking a sharp breath in through his nose, you release your bottom lip from your teeth, rubbing your thumb teasingly over the oozing slit. Smearing some pre-cum around his head, you could smell the sweat wafting off him, heavy and pungent. It should disgust you. It would if it was anyone else. But, the fact it was from him⎯after he killed in your name and honor, only made it all the more desirable. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cock, you hum in delight at the taste, a mix of bitter and metallic. Yet, somehow still addictive. It could’ve been the aphrodisiac in it.

“Christ⎯” He hisses, “Don’t do that, don’t bloody do that.”

You swirl your tongue around the head again, watching him shudder violently.

“Love⎯”

Letting out a soft hum of delight as the back of your throat starts to tingle, you swallow to try to relieve it, but it doesn’t help. It still feels as if you had swallowed a spoonful of honey. Pressing sloppy kisses down the shaft, the coarse greying hairs on his pubes tickle your nose, the scent of his sweat filling your senses. God, if you could bottle the scent of him, you would. Tangling his fingers into your hair, he shifts in place awkwardly, trying to find a way to stand upright that wasn’t putting a strain on his sore limbs but also didn't make him look like an old man. 

Snickering at his shifting, you take the head of his cock into your mouth, lapping the oozing head clean. The tingling in your throat grows with each lick of your tongue. Jerking off what didn’t fit in your mouth with your hand, you begin to bob your head up and down, the filthy sounds of your slurping filling the air. Throwing his head back, he lets out a strangled noise from the back of his throat, something of a mix of a moan and growl and purr all in one. The sound sends another wave of wetness between your thighs, your small clothes ruined. Bucking his hips instinctively, he forces himself to breath, already overstimulated by your devilish tongue.

“Evil..Evil fucking woman.” He pants, chasing after your tongue with his hips. 

Says the vampire, you want to counter back.

“Evil tongue of yours..”

It’s nothing compared to yours, you would say back to him. 

Gagging as he thrusts his hips forward roughly, you slurp filthy, trying to swallow all the drool and pre-cum that kept oozing out from your mouth. It was hard with the way your mouth and throat felt so tingly. Stupid aphrodisiac. Tightening his grip on your hair to anchor himself, you cringe at the sensation of his claws digging into your scalp, surely leaving marks that would scab over by tomorrow. Hollowing your cheeks the best you could, you bob yourself head faster, trying to hurry before your mouth truly went numb and you couldn't do anything but drool. Your nose brushes against his greying pubes a few times from how deep you force him in. 

“Don’t fucking do that⎯” He gasps, face flushing a bright red.

You force yourself to take him deeper, eyes watering up as the head hits the back of your throat.

“Christ, don’t do that. You’ll make me knot your mouth.” 

If that was an attempt at a threat, it was a horrid one. As if having him knot your mouth was a bad thing. Humming around his cock at his words, it sends vibrations up his spine, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Blinking back the tears in your eyes, you pull back slowly, your cheeks hot from lust. A layer of saliva creates a filthy ring around the base of his cock. Watching in lust as the bottom of his shaft begins to swell, it’s small, but the ridges start to become more prominent at the cold air fanning against it. You had taken it before, but had never really seen his knot before.

Licking the corner of your lips with your tongue, it does nothing to clean the drool that kept dripping down your chin, a feeling of embarrassment bubbling in your gut with how quickly the aphrodisiacs had kicked in. Everything felt a little fuzzier than before. But, it was a good kind of high. Slurping up as much drool as possible, you swirl your tongue sloppily over the head of his cock, watching as his knot swells. It was almost like a heartbeat with the way that it throbbed and swelled up. Whimpering softly as you hum around his cock, he bucks his hips softly, thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. His breathing grows more ragged, sweat trickling down his face.

“Christ⎯God⎯Don’t⎯” He blubbers, stumbling over his words. “Don’t stop, I’m close.” 

Oh, you could tell. 

“I’m⎯” His voice cracks embarrassingly, “That’s a good girl, just a little more.” 

He always started to sound like that when he was getting close. The knight who had murdered men without hesitation, turned into a mewling virgin under your touch⎯or rather tongue. Blindly reaching around for something to hold onto with his free hand, he trips over his feet, his back pressing against the table. Resisting the urge to snicker at the sight, you bob your head up and down a little faster, taking advantage of the fact that you couldn’t feel his cock hitting the back of your throat anymore. Throwing his head back with a whimper, his stomach clench and quiver as his breathing grows faster, a light sheen of sweat breaking out across his skin. 

Teasingly humming around his cock to watch him whimper again, he shudders violently, his knees trembling as he struggles to stand upright. Choking on his breath, he thrusts into your mouth, the warmth of his load flooding your tongue. Watching him through your lashes, you slurp down as much of his cum as possible, a few droplets still managing to fall down onto your breasts. Cringing at the sensation of it dripping down the valley of your breasts, you slowly pull back from his cock, nose wrinkling up involuntarily. Wiping your mouth clean with the back of your hand, you know it’s no use swallowing anymore, not when your mouth feels so numb and tingly.

“Do not tempt me with such words.” 

“Being?” He wheezes, tripping over his feet as his legs give out.

“Knotting my mouth.” You snicker, watching him lean on the table completely.

“You and I know that you will not be able to breathe if I did.” He argues, “Another time.”

“I will hold you to your word, Remmick.” You smirk, your knees popping as you stand up.

“I know you will, you devilish woman.”

Horses.

You detested them. How people could enjoy riding them…or being around them was beyond your understanding. They smelt. They bit. They kicked. They were just horrid creatures all together. Perhaps, you were spoiled from living in the city and not really having to depend on horses because everything was conveniently close by or soon-to-be dependent on the local train station. But, you’d rather eat a plate of horse shit than ever ride a horse on saddle. Not when you had seen horses wildly kick and buck against the restraints of carriages. Not when you had seen handlers get kicked hard, limping in pain as ghastly bruises began to form on their skin. But, Roy Goode did not seem to understand your deep⎯and warranted⎯hatred for horses. 

Letting out a blood curdling scream, you kick and thrash around, trying everything you could think of to get free of Roy’s hold. You were not going to ride a horse. You had managed plenty of years without having to ride one, and you did not need to ride one now. Clawing at his arms wrapped around your waist with your nails, he dragged you along to the horse pen, Alice watching in mild amusement. You could give less of a shit if she thought you were crazy. There was no way in the hell that you were going to ride a horse with Roy. Shifting his grip on your waist, he throws you over his shoulder, carrying you towards the horse pen with ease.

“Roy Goode, you put me down! Or I swear I’ll kick you so damn hard you can’t ever get it up again!” You threaten, hitting at his back with your hands.

“At some point you’re going to need to ride a horse.” He argues, chuckling in amusement.

“I’ll take the train.” You argue, trying to worm your way out of this.

“Not every town has train tracks, darlin’.” He snorts, “Besides, this is helpful for when you gotta do things on your own.”

“Then, I’ll walk!” 

Brushing off your protests, you try to reach down to slap at his ass, a weak attempt to surprise him enough to be able to squirm yourself free. But, he doesn't falter. If anything, it only fuels him even more. It would have been admirable, if it was not for the fact that you were being dragged to the horse pen. Yanking hard on his hair, he yelps loudly, though his grip does not falter. God damn it, why did he have to be strong? Stupid years of working in Frank’s gang. Sensing that fighting would not help you, you tried another way, putting on your best tears.

“Please, please, Roy.” You fake sob, “I’ll do anything you want, just not this.” 

“I know you ain’t cryin’, ( Y/n ).” He states, his voice deadpan. 

“Roy!” You snap, dropping the facade.

“Five minutes, five minutes and I can change your mind about horses.” He argues, shaking his head stubbornly. “That’s all I need.”

“I can do better things in five minutes than ride horses!” 

You could practically feel his smirk on his face at your words. Turning your head to try to glance over your shoulder, you panic as you see the wooden gate of the horse pen, dust kicking up as the horses pace around. No. No. No. NO. Fuck no. Stopping in front of the gate door, he tries to put you back down on your feet, but you resist. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hide your face into the crook of his neck, refusing to face the horses inside. This was your worst dream come true, coming face-to-face with a horse⎯even if there was a gate there. 

Letting out a soft defeated sigh at your protesting, he tries to peel you off, but you refuse to let him. Your grip tightens on his waist, clinging onto him like you would die if he made you stand on your own⎯because you would in a way. Hearing the huffing of the horse behind you, you tense up in his arms, your nails digging hard into his shoulders. You could smell the horse. You could feel it’s beady little eyes focused on you. Peeling one of your legs around his waist, you try to wrap it back around his waist, but he manages to keep it off.

“Darlin’⎯”

“They smell and they kick and I saw one bite a little girl before, Roy!” You argue, shaking your head stubbornly. “I am not about to go near those beasts.”

“Darlin’, they won’t bite. I’ll introduce you to my horse, he won’t harm you. Trained him for years, he’s used to people. Even folks who don’t like horses.” 

“Kiss my ass, Roy Goode!” 

Letting out a low scoff at your insult, he gives you a soft shake to loosen your grip and it does, your feet hit the ground. No. No. No. Whining softly at what was to come, he looks at you with a mixed look of amusement and unimpressed, hands resting on his hips. Opening your mouth to protest it, he shakes his head firmly, wrapping his arms around your waist. Tightly shutting your eyes, he slowly turns your around to face the pen, your jaw tightly clenching. You didn’t need to open up your eyes to know what was probably facing you right now. Shuddering as the horse huffs in your face, Roy presses himself against your back, his thumb rubbing against your hip.

“He’s kind.” 

“He’s a wild animal who could decide at any moment that he doesn’t like me and can kick me, Roy. The idea that you can tame an animal is a lie you tell yourself to feel better.” You argue, shaking your head.

“Fair.” He nods, “But, he gives signs before he does something. You can tell by the way he sounds, the way his body moves.” 

“That’s not comforting.” 

“Trust me.” He coos, “If at any point you don’t feel safe⎯” 

“I don’t feel safe now, Roy.” You snap back, peeling open one eye to glare at him.

“You’re not runnin’, darlin’.” He snorts, cracking a grin.

“Cause you have me pinned.” 

Narrowing his eyes hard at your words, he takes a side step from you, hands tucking in mock innocence behind his back. Devil. Clenching your jaw tightly as nothing has you trapped anymore, you suck in a breath through your teeth, shifting in place. You could leave. You should leave. But, your feet don’t move. Grinding your teeth together, you begrudgingly turn your head, coming face to face with a horse. Don’t scream. Don’t scream. Taking a step closer to the gate, you take a step backwards, the palms of your hands growing sweaty. The horse was towering over you, huffing as it looked you up and down. It was like a fucking wolf looking over a big fat juicy lamb. 

“What’s his name?” You sigh defeated, knowing that deep down that he was right. “And if you say his name is horse, I’m gonna be pissed.” 

“Butter Belle.” He responds, his voice disgustingly innocent.

“You named your fucking horse, Butter Belle?” You scoff, turning your head to look at him. “Isn’t that the name from those butter crates at the general store?”

“Is it?” He shrugs, his lips curling down.

Resisting the urge to slap your forehead at his innocence, you take a sharp breath through your nose, crossing your arms over your chest. Inching a little further away from the pen, you flick your eyes between him and the horse at the gate, still not feeling safe. Sure, Roy made it all seem nice. But, you had seen wild horses before. Seen people claim that they weren’t ‘wild’ anymore and were as tame as could be, just for them to suddenly turn and kick at anything in sight. A wild animal is a wild animal at the end of the day. You can’t change an animal's nature, it was embedded deep in them. Giving your butt a cheeky little pat, he walks up the gate, holding his hand out for the horse. It huffs, leaning into his hand. Clicking his tongue in approval, he pets its mane lovingly, his eyes shifting over to you for a beat.

“You haven’t run back to the house screaming.” He teases with a grin, “I’m proud of you.”

“I don’t like them. But, I ain’t that much of a god damn coward, Roy.”

“You screamed while I carried you.” He huffs, rolling his eyes playfully.

“You grabbed me from behind and said you were taking me to see the horses.” You glare, “Were you expecting me to be jumping for joy about it?”

“Expecting anything but that.” 

“You don’t grab a woman from behind and drag her to see horses, Roy. It’s like me tying you to my bed just to have Frank show up to hump ya’.” You counter back, knowing that your example was nowhere near the same.

“That’s cruel.” He shakes his head, wrinkling in his nose up in disgust.

You were mean? You were the mean one here? Funny coming from the man who had just carried you⎯dragged you⎯here. Taking a sharp breath in through your nose, you bite back the cruel comment on the tip of your tongue, choosing to be a little more mature about this. Yes, you had just fought him tooth and nail. Yes, you looked utterly mad while doing it. But, now was the time to be mature about all of this.

Flicking your eyes between him and the horse, it huffs loudly, hoofs clicking against the ground as it seemingly senses your discomfort. You tense up at the sound, taking a step backwards instinctively. Any second now it was gonna stand on it's legs and kick at the gate. Clicking his tongue soothingly at the horse, Roy strokes its mane, instantly calming it down. It was shocking just how easy it was for him to calm the horse. You had seen others struggle when horses got all huffy like this.

“Well, I guess I’m just sooo mean, Roy.” You mock, dragging out your words exaggeratedly.

“Good thing I like them mean.” He hums, “You gonna let me teach you how to ride, or ya’ gonna fight me again?”

“You’re pushing it. This is as far as I am willing to go for now.” You argue, motioning to the small distance between you and the gate. 

“For now?” He grins, his tone annoying and teasing.

“For now.” You threaten, “But, if you ever do this again, I’m taking your balls, Roy Goode.”

Gritting your teeth in pain as the seatbelt pokes into your lower back, you try to squirm free, the backseat of Eoin’s prized car no place for this. Growling lowly in your ear, Paddy presses himself harder against you, only crowding you further. There were other places you two could have sneak away to⎯the bar’s restroom, the alleyways beside the bar, your flat a few minutes down the road, literally anywhere else. Fumbling clumsily with his belt, he presses himself even harder against you, if that was somehow possible. You hiss in annoyance at his crushing weight, only pushing the seatbelt harder in your lower back.

“Paddy⎯” You protest, but he cuts you off before you can even begin.

“Shut up.” He snaps, his voice far deeper and gruff than usual. “Shut the fuck up, can fucking smell it on you.”

“The seatbelt⎯” You try again, hoping to explain that you weren’t protest him but rather the awkward position he had you bent in.

Ignoring your protests, he finally manages to undo his belt, his hands clumsy from trying to hurry as quickly as possible. Not even bothering to fully pull down his pants or boxers, his cock slaps against his stomach. The head of his cock a painful red and already oozing pre-cum. Tangling his fingers into your hair, he yanks your head back, denying you the chance to really look at the throbbing knot at the base of his cock. The scent of his rut heavy in the car, only adding to your slick. If he was this needy now, god only knows what he would do when he finally got in you.

Smacking the top of your head against the grip of the car door, you let out a yelp of pain, your feet smacking against the other passenger car door as you try to move. This was the worst place to be laid on your back, but Paddy wasn’t about to let you slip out of his grip. Slapping at Paddy’s chest to try to get him off, he lets out a low growl, his grip tightening in your hair. Grumbling as he digs his nails into your scalp, you squirm under him, trying to find some kind of angle under him that wouldn’t hurt. But, it hard to when the back of Eoin’s car is the size of a fucking tin can.

“Stop squirming.” He orders, removing his hand from your hair to drape your leg over his hip.

“The fucking seatbelt is pressing against my back and I can’t move without hitting something, Paddy.” You argue, shooting him a glare. “This is not exactly the sexiest or comfiest.”

“There, now stop your bitching.” He huffs, hooking his arm under your lower back to stop the seatbelt from pressing against it.

Barely resisting the urge to snap back at him for his weak solution, you shift again, your foot against the other passenger door again. Taking a sharp breath in through your nose in irritation, you know that Paddy won’t let you be on top, his ego wouldn't allow it. He’d rather get shot with a silver bullet in the balls than ever let something get on top of him. It was an ego and power thing, expected of an alpha. Which was ridiculous that he would rather the both of you suffer from discomfort than allow you on top. Using his free hand to reach between you, he rips your panties to shreds, using his hips to spread your thighs further. The head of his cock pressing against your slick folds, making a lewd wet sound.

“Eoin is gonna kill you for doing this.” You breath, tensing up in anticipation.

“For fucking you? Or desecrating this car?” He smirks, his nails dig in lower back.

“Both.” You whisper, swallowing nervously.

“He can bill me.”

Bill him for it? Letting out a nervous chuckle at his words, you could try to hide your nervousness, but you fail. God, only knows what Paddy was going to do to you. Grabbing your jaw tightly, he presses his thumb against your bottom lip, forcing it into your mouth. You could practically taste the pheromones on his skin⎯something musky and somehow perfectly Paddy at the same time. It sends goosebumps down your spine, your heart pounding harder than before in your chest.

Teasingly grinding himself against you, you take a sharp breath in through your nose, your back arching instinctively. The heat between your legs grows, instincts taking over as the need for him to breed you builds. Gripping onto his shirt, you try to tug him closer, but he resists. Slapping the head of his cock against your swollen clit, you whimper, clawing at him. It wasn’t enough. You needed him. Needed his knot. Needed his fingers. Needed his mouth. Needed everything from him.

“Paddy⎯”

“You want to bitch about not being comfortable, you can wait until I get comfortable.” He scolds mockingly, smirking as you whine again.

“Paddy, stop teasing⎯” You try again, but he cuts you off.

Pressing his thumb harder into your mouth, you gag slightly as he forces it a little further down your throat, your eyes watering up. Fucking bastard. Smirking even more at your gagging, he uses his free hand to guide the head of his cock between your slick folds, slowly pushing the head in. The stretch burns already, you slick not enough to prepare for the sheer girth that was Paddy’s cock. Clawing at his shirt as he slowly pushes in, his brows furrow together as you clench around him, his breathing trembling slightly. Growling lowly to hide his trembling breath, he slams himself all the way in, a choked breath escaping your lips at the sudden brutal stretch, his knot not yet in.

“Christ⎯”

“He ain’t here, not gonna save you from this.” He taunts in your ear, “Fucking knew what you were doing coming around me, smelling like that, fucking asking me to knot you.”

You’d slap him for that snarky comment if it wasn’t for the fact that your brain was already going fuzzy.

Thrusting forward roughly, you let out a choked noise, struggling to adjust to the brutal stretch. It burns and you’d surely be sore for the rest of the day, but dear god did you not want him to stop, it hurt so good. Dragging your nails harder down his clothed back, he smugly smirks at the blush spreading on your cheeks, sweat trickling down his forehead. His hips continue their relentless pace, plunging his cock deep inside of you over and over again. The throbbing knot at the bottom of his shaft threatening to push in a few times, making you gasp sharply. You could barely handle him now, you'd weren't ready for that yet. But, Paddy didn't seem to care that much about that fact.

“You like that?” 

You don’t respond, your tongue feeling as if it was made of lead.

“I should breed you, fucking fill you all the way up and make you carry my litter.” He whispers in your ear, “Make you explain to Eoin what happened. You think he’d look at you the same if he knew?”

Tensing up at the mention of Eoin, he lets out a low chuckle at your reaction, shoving his thumb further down your throat. Gagging again as he pushes them further back, you try to spit them out, drool pooling out of your mouth and down your chin. It’s filthy, downright sinful. But, it only fuels him further. Spitting a fat glob of spit into your mouth, you swallow instinctively, only gagging further as he pushes his thumb deeper. Clicking his tongue scoldingly as you keep trying to spit him out, he curls his thumb to gather as much of your saliva as possible, pulling it out once his finger was thoroughly coated. 

You gasp, finally able to breath without restriction. 

“Stop being dramatic, or else I’ll really give you something to gag on.” He threatens, finishing his sentence with a hard thrust.

Cheeky bastard.

"But, you'd fucking like that wouldn't you? Like gagging on it like the whore you are."

Spitting on your cheek, he swears the saliva across your cheeks like he was trying to mark you with his scent, only making your skin sticky. Opening your mouth to scold him, he shuts you up with a hard thrust, your eyes rolling the back of your head. The sudden switch between choking you with his thumb and punishing thrusts makes your brain swirl. It was a delicious torture that only made you more wet.  Licking his top lip to clean away some sweat, he keeps a straight face, the only sight of him enjoying this being as much as you were was his grip tightening. Pulling his hand from your lower back, you hiss at the jab from the seatbelt, immediately squirming to avoid it. 

Scoffing hard at your squirming, he grips onto your thighs, keeping your hips levitated enough to avoid the seatbelt. It only pulls a strain on your muscles. Digging his nail hard into your skin, he picks up his pace, punching out the air from each thrust. Nipping at your ear with his teeth, the sudden realization that you both were in the back of Eoin’s car⎯that anyone could walk up and see or hear the two of you, dawns upon on you. Biting on your bottom lip to muffle your moans, you blush a bright pink from embarrassment, the filthy sounds of wetness squelching filling the air. Glaring at your silence, he grabs a handful of your hair, trying to get some kind of noise out of you.

“Now you want to be silent?” He scoffs, yanking your head back.

“Someone could hear⎯” You warn, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t act all shy now.” He scolds, “You weren’t shy when you were rubbing up against me, fucking trying to scent me like the whore you are.”

“Paddy⎯” 

Letting out a condescending chuckle at your attempts to explain yourself, he stops his pace for what feels like the hundredth time, frustration bubbling in your lower gut. He’d stop and torment you, just to surprise you when you least expected it by thrusting again. You’d rather he just not stop all together⎯overstimulation was better than no stimulation at all. Biting harder on your bottom lip, it takes everything in you to not shove him off, to try to pin him under you as you took over. You would⎯if it weren’t for the fact that Paddy had twice your strength and the backseat was the size of a tin can. Smugly smirking at your growing frustration, he slowly bucks his hips, dragging his cock along your walls. Slow. Torturous. Cruel.

“Stop teasing.” 

“Give me a reason not to.” He shrugs, stopping once again.

“God damn it! Eoin could be back any minute, stop fucking teasing and just finish already.” You snap, losing your patience with this constant tormenting from him.

“You think that will stop me?” He chuckles, raising a brow.

It wouldn’t. You knew that. He knew that. Hell, it would only fuel him further. Letting out a low grumble under your breath, you tighten your grip on his shirt, using your legs to try to pull him tighter against yourself. God, he was insufferable. But, that was Paddy. He played by his own rules, and you would have no choice but to play along. Pulling your head back to force you to look out the window from upside down, you couldn’t see from the fog on the glass, easing a little bit of your worry of someone seeing you two. At least it would only be a faint outline..not really. Spitting a fat glob of saliva in your face, he abruptly thrusts into you, your mind letting you not get your hopes up anytime soon. He’d just stop and leave you in a puddle of anger just for the fun of it. 

“Fucking demanding me to hurry up, to stop teasing.” He huffs, letting out a condescending laugh.

“We’re still in public, Paddy.” 

“Doesn’t matter.” He argues, shaking his head.

“We’re in Eoin’s car, Paddy.” You add, shooting him a glare.

“Still doesn’t matter.” He counters back, not even bothering to fake any shame.

It should. 

Trailing his lips down your neck, he switches between biting and sucking dark marks into your skin that Eoin would surely notice. The heat between your legs returns against your better judgment, hotter than before. Sweat trickles down your forehead, your body jerking involuntarily at each torturous slap of his hips against your hips, the roughness of the seatbelt still poking at your lower back like an annoying ex-mate. Nipping at your scent gland with his teeth, you let out an involuntary moan at the sensation, your body reacting despite your mind telling it not to. Letting go of your hip, his other hand stays tangled in your hair, keeping you in an awkward half bend. You back ached from being stuck in his position for a while with his crushing weight on top. 

“You like that?” 

You don’t respond, too embarrassed.

“Like when I scent you?” He chuckles darkly, “Filthy whore. What would Eoin say, huh? If he could smell me on you…smell me in you?”

Groping at your breasts roughly through your blouse, he sucks harder on your scent gland, sending waves of heat down your spine. You shouldn’t be getting used to this. You know that. But, finally getting pleasure after constant stop and go’s sending you spiraling. Thrusting his knot in all the way without warning, you tense up, lungs draining of air at how painful it was. Even with how wet you were, it didn’t matter. Paddy was bigger than any knot you had ever taken and that one was years ago when you were still learning about your heat and had used a toy.

Bucking his hips a few more times, he stops abruptly, drool leaking from the corners of his slack mouth as his knot swells. Collapsing on top of you like a dead weight, you wheeze as the air is knocked out of you, a lingering burn of pain in between your legs from the stretch. The orgasm that had slowly been building up, dead. You could feel some of his cum ooze out from around his knot, sticky and slowly trickling down your inner thighs. It takes a good moment to process all of it. Then, rage builds up. This bastard had just purposefully denied you an orgasm. 

“What the fuck Paddy?!” You hiss, pissed that you didn’t even get the chance to finish. “That’s fucking cruel!” 

He doesn’t respond for a second, letting you curse him in amusement.

“You cruel fucking bastard!” You slap his chest, “You didn’t let me finish! Spent half the time mocking me!”

“I said I was going to knot you, never said that I was going to make sure that you finished.” He argues, only fueling your anger more.

-----

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ NEW YORK, 1999.

Resisting the urge to gag as your friend rambles on about her latest date, you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to keep your cocktail down. You couldn't understand the thought process of a man. Just..why? Why the fuck did they have be so god damn gross? Seriously. Never in your life have you looked at a man suggestively licking ice cream and want to throw your panties at him in lust. It was just cringeworthy and disgusting and made you grateful for having Remi. Shaking your head the more that describes the way that he was licking his ice cream, you take a sip of your cocktail, swishing it around in your mouth. The burn was far far more pleasant than her story.

“That is disgusting.” Remmi nods, her nose wrinkling up in disgust.

“Agreed.” You smack your lips together at the lingering burn of liquor in your mouth, “I just don’t get how anyone can do that and think that they look sexy.”

“I can’t believe a man would do that.” 

“I can, it’s a man.” You scoff, biting back a giggle at your own joke.

“Not as bad as doing that.” Remi argues, pointing to a couple on the other end of the bar. 

Following her hand, you raise a brow up at the clearly drunk couple, sprinkling a line of salt on each other's arms. Grabbing a lime from the bartender's hand, the couple proceed to lick each other's arms, downing the shot then sucking on the lime slice. Oh fucking please, that was tame compared to the man from your friends date. They were licking each other's arms to take a shot, they probably knew each other and were totally fine with it. They weren’t licking an ice cream cone to try to seduce someone who they had just met on a first date. Two totally different things. Rolling your eyes hard at the sight, you shake your head firmly, pushing hair over your shoulder. 

"Oh, shut it, tampon sucker.” You scoff, “You eat pussy, licking someone's arm to do a line of salt for a shot is nothing compared to what Jessie is talking about." 

"Tampon sucker?" Remi scoffs, placing a hand onto her chest.

"You heard me, Remi." You argue back, "Don’t act like you totally wouldn’t do it if I let you." 

It was a low blow and just an overall shitty insult, but too late to take it back now. You had said it and she had heard you. Narrowing her eyes hard at your words, she grit her teeth tightly, sucking in a breath through her teeth. Opening her mouth up to argue, she stops herself at the last second, tightly shutting her lips. Diverting your gaze back onto your friend, she’s continuing to ramble on about her date, not noticing you and Remi’s bickering. Good. She clearly needed to get all of this out of her system, and you weren’t going to tell her to shut up any time soon. 

Feeling Remi’s glare still on you, you turn your head, raising a brow up at the look on her face. It was a mix of anger, hurt, and brattiness. Wrinkling her nose up as she festers in her feelings, she pushes back strands of hair from her face, leaning forward on the bartop. You barely resist the urge to glance down as she pushes up her chest, clearly attempting to rile you up. She had worn that skimpy little band shirt, one that you had cut up for her for the summer time. She knew just how much you enjoyed it, how you liked how it hugged her curves. Evil little bitch. 

“I have standards.” She argues, making your scoff.

“I’ve seen the people you eat, you do not have standards, Remi.” You roll your eyes hard, “Blood is blood to you.”

“Nuh-huh! Blood is not just blood. I have very high standards for the things I eat.” She pushes back tousled curls over her shoulder, acting like she was above your claims. 

“Bullshit, Remi.” You scoff hard, shaking your head in firm disagreement.

“Bullshit? I do!” She argues, her voice raising up in offense.

“You don’t!” You argue back, “I saw you eat a literal rat out of a dumpster.”

“I had drunk the blood of someone with drugs in their system, that was not on purpose.” She argues back, lowering her voice to not be overheard. “I just had the munchies!” 

As if that was a good enough reason to justify eating a literal rat. Sure, you had gotten the munchies before after smoking a blunt with her before. But, there was always other options to get a snack⎯grocery stores, convenience stores, the chinese place next door or the pizza place down the block from the apartment. Surely, she couldn’t just find someone randomly on the street and just steal a quick bite? Instead of just eating a rat. Pointing at your tongue to pretend like you were sticking a finger down your throat, you let out a dramatic fake gag, mocking her shitty reasoning. Nothing could justify it. Nothing.

“You still did it.” You bicker back, leaning in closer to her. “That is far more gross than licking salt off someone’s arm.”

“Gross enough for you to not want to fuck me?” She pouts, pathetically giving you puppy eyes.

“If you eat another rat, I will never touch you again.” You argue firmly, “Let alone let that tongue of yours near me.”

“It was one time.” She huffs, dropping her facade instantly.

“One time too many!” You scoff, shaking your head.

Pushing open the door to the apartment, you kick off your shoes, watching Remi lingering in the doorway. Her lips curled down into a big and pathetic pout. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes hard at the sight, you don’t bother to invite her in just yet, throwing your jacket on the couch. She grumbles loudly, her face darkening as you deny her entry into the apartment. Taking an annoyed breath in through your nose at her grumbling, you walk away, continuing to deny her entry. 

She was being too much of a brat for you right now. She could sulk a little longer outside, maybe that would snap her out of it. Letting out another loud grumble, you don’t give her the attention that she was clearly demanding, unbuttoning your jeans. Pressing your back against the wall for support, you shimmy yourself out of them, kicking them down the floor in front of the laundry machine. Kicking the wall beside the doorway, she lets out another pestering huff, glaring at you.

“I can’t believe you seriously brought up the rat at the bar.” She huffs, tapping her foot on the floor.

“Remi, you started it.” You argue, shooting her a look.

“Did not.” She argues back, her tone ridiculously petulant.

“Did so, you little brat.” You threaten, “Keep it up and I won’t let you in.”

“You’d do that to me?” She gasps, acting like she was in some kind of crappy soap opera.

“Remi..”

Slapping your forehead with your hand, you let out a defeated sigh as she keeps on going, patience drying up quickly. Tapping her foot annoyingly, you let out a grumble, eye twitching at just how annoying she was acting. God, you just wanted to strangle and fuck this brattiness out of her at the same time. For someone who liked to brag about being a dominant top, she was sure acting like a bratty pillow princess. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you try to focus on removing your socks, trying to show some self restraint. She was just trying to piss you off on purpose. She was tipsy and just pestering you like how she always did when she drank blood laced with liquor. 

“Stop it.” You scold, “You’re tipsy, Remi.” 

“You’re tipsy…bottom bitch.” 

“Remi, stop it.” You shake your head, “I’m serious. You’re being ridiculous and you didn’t even really drink that much blood tonight.”

“You’re not letting me in because you know the moment you let me inside I’d have you bent over the bed and moaning my name.” She taunts, letting out a soft giggle.

Letting out another pestering clearing of her throat, you lose all self control, sharply turning on your heels to face her fully. Oh, this little bitch. Now she was going too far. Smugly smirking at your reaction, you narrow your eyes hard at her, hands trembling at your side. You wouldn’t hit her. You wouldn’t hit her. Sticking her tongue out childishly, she flips you off, swaying slightly from side to side. Ugh, she didn’t even drink that much. It was one fucking slurp from your neck while the two of you were in the bathroom. It was literally nothing compared to 

“Suck it..” She taunts, “Or else I’ll find some other chick who will.” 

“You’re making a fucking fool of yourself, Remi. Get your ass inside now. I invite you or what the fuck that I need to say.” You snap, shooting her a firm glare. 

“Oooh, I’m so scared!” She mocks, holding her hands up in mock surrender.

Narrowing your eyes hard at her antics, she takes it a step further, mimicking jerking off her imaginary cock. It was ridiculously childish. Throwing her head back in a loud cackle, you lose what little of your patience that held you back, cheeks flushing hot from burning anger. God, why the hell were you with her again? She was such a fucking brat. Wrapping your hand around her throat, you spin her against the wall, kicking the door with your shoe. Choking on her laughter at your seriousness, she stares at you with wide eyes, her cheeks flushing a bright pink. From embarrassment? Lust? Shock? Anger? You couldn't really tell nor did you really care.

“Say one more thing, I fucking dare you, Remi.” You sneer, “I’ve been letting a lot slide, more than I should. And now you wanna talk about fucking others? Act like pretending to be tipsy is gonna save your ass, huh?”

She doesn’t respond, and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“We both know that you’re not really tipsy, you’re just acting like a brat for fun.” You press, trying to get her to finally act maturely about all of this. “So drop the act, I’m not having it tonight.” 

“Suck my dick.” 

That fucking does it. Giving her throat a firm warning squeeze, she lets out a pathetic whimper, squirming in your grip to break free. Not a fucking chance. She started this shit and she was gonna endure until you felt like it was enough. Opening her mouth to protest, you don't give her the chance, smashing your lips against hers to swallow the sound. Letting out a strangled noise against your lips, you could feel her hands everywhere, unable to linger in a spot for more than a second. One second they were in your hair, tugging hard at the strands until your scalp ached. The next they were groping at your waist, as if trying to rip apart your underwear like a rapid little beast.

Dragging your tongue over the seam of her mouth, you force her to let you in, dragging your tongue slowly over her fangs. All slimy from all the drool in her mouth. Humming in delight at the taste, you nudge her trembling thighs apart, forcing your knee in between them. Jolting at the pressure of your knee against her crotch, you swear that you could already feel how wet she was, practically dripping like there was a waterfall between her legs. Pathetic slut. She may pretend to be a domiant top who never faltered to your friends, but at heart she was still a pathetic bottom in need of getting fucked right by you. Breaking the kiss, a string of saliva connects from your lips.

“I can feel how wet you are already, haven’t even touched you.” 

“Am not.” She argues, her face flushing brighter from embarrassment.

“No?” You mock, tilting your head to the side. “No, Remi? So if I stick my hand in your panties they’ll be all dry? That pretty little pussy of yours isn’t gonna be drooling for me?” 

“No.” She lies, her voice trailing off at the end.

“Liar. I should stop right here and leave you in a puddle of your own wetness, slut.” You scoff, putting more pressure on her crotch. “But, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’re a little fucking sadist, like torturing yourself.”

Letting out a shuddered breath at the increase of pressure, she bucks her hips involuntarily, seeking out some friction. You could see that familiar glimmer in her eyes, the one that always came whenever you topped her⎯that craving for you to breed her, even though it was biologically impossible. Clicking your tongue scoldingly at her, you slowly pull your knee away, earning a high-pitched protest. It wasn’t quite words, but it wasn’t quite a noise either. It was something desperate and inbetween. God, it was beautiful. Smirking at her reaction, you give her throat a punishing squeeze, holding it for a second until you were sure that her lungs would burn from the lack of air. 

“Keep it up and I’ll tie your ass up.” You warn, releasing your grip just enough to let her breathe again. “Put you right in front of the window.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You think I won’t after how much of a brat you’ve been acting since we got back from the bar, sweetheart?" You press harder, “Fucking mocking me. Fucking taunting me. Fucking acting like you’re drunk. You’re just an attention seeking whore.”

"You're being mean.” She whines, pouting deeply.

“You’re being a brat.” You argue, “Brats don’t get treated nicely.” 

Letting out another whimper at your words, she squirms around, clawing at your hips with her nails. Perhaps, you were being a little too mean to her. But, she deserved it after how she was acting. Brat’s don’t get to act that way and go unpunished for it. Besides, if you really wanted to be mean, you’d just walk away and go to bed. You could. You could leave her here, in a puddle of her own arousal. You probably should. But, you wouldn’t. Looking over her face slowly, you linger on the blush on her cheeks, on the way her eyes keep on growing heavier and heavier from lust. She was so pretty like this, all needy. But you liked seeing her moaning more.

“( Y/n )..” 

“Begging won’t help you, Remi.” You scold, “You’d do a hell of a lot worse to me if I was acting the way that you are.” 

“But, this is different⎯” She argues in a whiny voice, but you cut her off.

“Is it?” You raise a brow, “Don’t act like you wouldn’t already have me bent over the couch and ass all raw from slapping me.”

Opening her mouth up to argue again, you raise your brow higher, letting her dig a deeper hole for herself. She knew that it was the truth, deep down. If you acted even a fragment like how she had been, your ass would’ve been raw by the time the sun rose up. Stopping herself at the last second, you chuckle at the look on her face, begrudging defeat. Tightening your grip on her throat again, you slip your other hand down her stomach, feeling it trembling under your touch. Stopping at the button of her jeans, you fumble to remove it by yourself, roughly yanking the button free. 

Jolting as you unbutton her jeans, you press your thigh against her crotch, keeping her from moving anymore. It was a lot harder doing this with one hand, but you weren’t about to let go of her throat. Clumsily unzipping them, you take your time pulling them down, leaving them pooled half way down her thighs. The sight of her underwear bringing a smile to your face. The once pretty scarlet red now a dark maroon from how wet she was. God, you wished that you had a camera to take a picture of this. Remi this wet just from a little choking and kissing.

“Look at all this.” You mock, “Talking a big old game, acting like a total brat and you’re fucking ruining those panties of yours. You like when I slap you around, huh? Like when I remind you that I can just as easily top you, turn you into a whiny little bitch.” 

“Stop.” She argues, tightly closing her legs to keep you out.

“Open those legs for me, princess. Or else, I’m gonna walk.” You threaten, pulling your hand away abruptly. 

“Don’t you fucking dare!” She glares, her embarrassment melting away as desperation takes over.

“Open them.” You order, voice a little more stern than before.

Flushing an even brighter pink at your stern order, she surprisingly complies without complaint, spreading her thighs for you. Smugly smirking at her obedience, you slip your hand in her panties, still not removing them completely. You wanted her to sit in her wetness a little longer, feel humiliated just a little longer. Peeling the damp fabric off her folds, you swear that you could hear a low squelching sound from it, lewd and embarrassing. Biting back a whimper, you drag a finger through her folds, playing with the wetness that oozed out of her like a waterfall. 

Biting hard on her bottom lip, you smirk deeply at the sight, you could feel her body vibrating underneath you. Adjusting your other hand on her throat, you flick her clit, earning a strangled noise from her. Rubbing your thumb over her swollen clit, you trail your fingers further, the further you reach the wetter it gets. You barely resist the urge to mock her. Slowly pressing in your pointer and middle finger in, she tenses up instantly at the girthy stretch of your fingers, clenching hard around them. You could barely curl them, trying to find her g-spot.

“Please..” She whines, her hips bucking for more.

“You gonna cum already?” You mock, “Just barely put my fingers in, haven’t even moved yet.”

“You’re so fucking evil!” 

“Evil enough for you to want me to stop?” You snort, watching her face shift instantly.

“Don’t you fucking dare, I swear I’ll rip out your fucking throat⎯” 

Narrowing your eyes hard at her threat, she tries to get in your face, her fangs bared like a wild dog. Pushing her back against the wall by the throat, you sharply curl your fingers upwards, thrusting your fingers roughly. Moaning loudly at the rough pace you set, you chest your chest against hers, giving her throat occasional punishing squeezes. Not enough to make her lose her breath, but enough to make her uncomfortable. Thrusting your fingers in and out fast, you watch smugly as she blinks back hot tears of pleasure, your hand already beginning to ache. But, you push yourself through the minor discomfort. It would be worth it in the end.

Bucking her hips with each cruel thrust of your fingers upwards, you want to mock her, to mock how desperate she was to finish as quickly as possible. But, you refrain. Instead, you just take in every moan, every buck of her hips, every fluttering of her lashes as she barely manages to keep her eyes open. Shifting your hand between her thighs, you clumsily rub your thumb over her clit, ruthless circles that you know would push her closer to an orgasm. Digging her nails hard into your shoulders for support to keep standing upright, you hiss as she manages to break the skin, bloody crescent moon shapes appearing. 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” You purr, “Can feel that little tremble in your breathing.” 

“So close.” She nods, face heating up the closer she gets.

“Not even been doing this for five minutes, think that’s the quickest I’ve ever gotten you to cum.” 

“Please, just stop torturing me!” She wails, “I’m sorry! I’ll fucking behave, just please!”

Tilting your head down, you nip at the side of her neck with your teeth, trying to leave some marks behind. But, the skin keeps healing before you could even get close to it. Stupid vampire fast healing bullshit. Grumbling under your breath, you curl your fingers one last time, earning a high-pitched wail from her. Your ears ring from the sound. Gushing all over your fingers, you coax her through her orgasms, her hips jerking and twitching involuntarily. Gradually slowing down your pace, you give her swollen clit one last rub, watching her shudder violently from the overstimulation. Slowly pulling your fingers out, she winces at the sudden empty feeling, pouting. 

“There we go..” You coo, “So pretty when you cum, aren’t you?” 

“Fuck off.” She huffs, her voice shaky.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Remi.” You chuckle, licking your fingers clean.

The familiar un-naturally sweet taste of her on your tongue. Licking some sweat off her top lip, you chuckle at the sight, enjoying that post-orgasm glimmer in her. Pressing a teasing kiss onto her lips, she huffs against your lips, lightly pushing you away. Rolling your eyes hard at her reaction, you sharply walk away, deciding to deny her any more attention for the rest of the night. If she wanted to continue to be a brat, you’d just let her sulk. Your hand was aching and the temptation of your bed was more pleasing than trying to finger the brattiness out of her…again. 

“Goodnight.” 

“What the fuck?!” She shrieks, “That’s it?! You’re not going to even top me properly?!”

“Nope, brats don’t get those kinds of privileges. Be grateful that I even let you cum.” You argue, shaking your head. “Besides, I’m sleepy and wanna go to bed.”

“What the fuck?! No! You get your ass back here and top me properly! You haven’t even used the strap yet!” She complains, hot on your trail. “( Y/n )!”

-----

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ WHITECHAPEL, 1859.

Patrick was not meant to be there. He had been added to the staff at the last moment. The Lady of the Manor was far along in her third pregnancy, and rapidly growing paranoid that she would miscarry the baby like her previous two. Patrick was supposed to feed her small doses of laudanum and ramble medical terms until she was no longer hysterical. It was an easy job. It had good pay. It came with lodging. It had little real work needed to be done. It was everything that he needed after the Volunteer. But, something about it felt..off. Not just about her pregnancy. But, the house. The house had this..aura to it.

It was quiet, unnaturally quiet and odd in appearance⎯not because of stylistic choice, but odd in other ways. The grounds surrounding the house refused to grow anything, as if something the ground was refusing to let it. Every room felt suffocating, as you were being watched by something from the shadows. The portraits on the walls were old and eaten at the edges by bookworms. The doorway had a small line of salt added to them. The dark emerald wallpaper was peeling, revealing rotting mahogany wood underneath. Yet, no matter how old and rotten the house looked. It didn’t break like rotten things did. It breathed and lived, as if thriving from the rot.

“The Missus has her..preferences.” The maid had muttered to him, trying to be polite.

“Do not bother complaining, she will not hear it from us. Best get used to it.” The chef had snorted in passing, plating supper. “Or tell ( Y/n ), see if she can tell the Missus of your concern.”

“( Y/n ), is the only one who can talk sense to the Missus.” The gamekeeper had sighed, shooting him a defeated look.

That was the second time he had heard your name, ( Y/n ). ( Y/n ), the midwife, the only one who seemingly could talk sense to the Lady of the Manor. A ridiculous thing. He didn’t take their warnings seriously, because surely the Lady of the Manor would listen to him? He was more qualified than you, an inexperienced midwife. The confidence died quickly after her third hysterical fit. It was then that he realized that the warnings were right⎯you were the only one who could talk some sense into the Lady of the Manor. If he wanted to talk some sense into her, he’d need to get to you.

Lingering near the shadows of the doorway, he watches as you spoon feed the mumbling Lady, wiping her chin with the spoon. It was wrong of him to spy on the both of you, he knew that. But there was something in his gut that said the nature of your relationship must’ve been more than the typical one between patient and midwife, something that explained why she’d listen to you so keenly. Shaking her head deliriously, you coo softly under your breath, lifting the spoon back up to her lips to force her to take another sip. Opening her mouth up softly, you nod your head in approval as she swallows some of it, acting like she was a fussy child. Choking on the serving in her mouth, you place the bowl down on the nightstand, using a napkin to pat her cheeks clean. 

“Now, now, Miss.” You scold softly, “You must take your medicine.”

“The baby..red blood.” She sobs, shaking her head. "Do not let them take the baby, they will eat him. Flesh and blood, red blood on the peaks of our home.”

“The baby is safe, still in your womb. No will take this baby from you, nor will blood be spilt on the peaks of your home.” You shake your head, correcting her.

Letting out a loud wretched gag, she spits up on herself, her nightgown staining a dark maroon color. You don’t flinch at the sight, don’t seem to bat an eye to it. Instead, you simply wipe it off her with the cloth until the stain blends with the embroidery of the collar. Grabbing the bowl again, you push another spoonful in her mouth, tilting her head back to force her to swallow all of it. She gags, trying to swat your hand away, but you don’t let her. He was sure now that it was not stew, it was a dark maroon and whatever it was. It seemed to only worsen her condition. Was that it? Were you poisoning her? Twisting her mind and isolating her from the rest of the staff?

Narrowing his eyes at the contents of the bowl, he takes a step forward to get a better look, the floorboard beneath his foot letting out a loud creak. Tensing up as the sound echoes through the air, you slowly straighten your back, the air being dragged out of his lungs. Shite. Your head tilts up, showing that you indeed had heard him. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he scrambles to get away before you could realize that it was him, bumping into a picture frame. It falls to the ground, only making more noise. Stepping on the frame, it cracks under his weight, but it’s the least of his worries at the moment. Rushing down the hallway, the soft clearing of a voice stops him in place.

“I would be careful, Ser.” You click your tongue scoldingly, “If the Missus’ hears you’ve ruined one of her favorite portraits, she will be extremely upset.”

“Ser?” He sputters, feeling like a caught rat. 

“Yes, as I am afraid I do not know who you are exactly..not yet I think.” 

A tremble runs through his body, the hairs on his arms raising. The house was frightening enough as it was, but after seeing you feeding her, it only made him more terrified. Mustering up his courage, he lets out a shaky breath, his hands trembling at his sides. You were just a woman. You were just a woman. This was madness, restless nights and a creepy house that had concocted an imaginary monster. Turning on his heels to face you, you don’t look like a monster, not one bit. In fact, you looked rather..lively for the house. A soft pale blue dress with a white apron, hair pinned up into a simple updo. You were the first real color he had seen in the house. 

“I do not believe we have met, properly that is.” You nod, looking him up and down slowly with calculated eyes.  “I am ( Y/n ), the Missus' personal midwife.” 

“Uh, Patrick. I mean, Patrick Sumner, I suppose I am now the Missus’ personal doctor.” He shifts in place, feeling un-nerved by your stare. 

“I wouldn’t get comfortable.” You state bluntly, “You won’t last long.” 

“You do not think so?” He raises a brow, curious about your doubt. 

“She’s run through three already, the best that money could buy.” You clasp your hands together softly, “You’ll be no different. Unless.."

“Unless?”

“Your credentials, whilst false, are good. Also, you haven’t pissed your breeches yet nor run off. Perhaps, this all nonsense compared to the horrors you have seen in Delhi.” You casually explain, stealing the air from his lungs.

He had not mentioned his previous employment. Hell, he had lied on his papers and made up a pretend office in Belfast. So, how the fuck did you know about Delhi? Raising a brow at his silence, you calmly pick up the picture frame from the ground, resting it against the wall for the maid to tend to later. Flinching as you take another step closer, he suddenly feels smaller, like he was a bug underneath your boot. You clearly knew enough about him. You could expose him. You could ruin him, especially after knowing that he had been spying on you feeding her. 

“You know of..” He whispers, barely able to get the words out.

“The Missus’ is very thorough in reviewing who exactly has joined her staff.” You explain, “She found many things about you in her research, Mr Sumner.”

“And what exactly has she found?” 

“Enough.” You nod, “If..If you survive another week, we can discuss the current treatments that have been administered to the Missus’. I have a few theories as to the root of her hysteria, but it would be best to discuss them with a Doctor..or rather in your case, a surgeon."

“Yes-s..” He stutters, struggling to get any words out.

“I am not a threat to you, Mr Sumner. I just want the Missus’ to cover. She has not been well for a long time.” You calmly explain, “Now, goodnight, I have other duties to attend to.”

Slowly turning on your heels, you walk down the hallway, each clicking of your heels matching the pounding of his heart. There was something un-nerving about you. Or perhaps, it was only because of this damn house. Reaching the doorway of the Lady’s bedroom, you turn your head to look at him, eyes flicking him up and down for good measure. It sends a shiver down his spine, paranoia only worsening. He needed to leave. He needed to leave this damn house. He could find another job, another place to stay. Hell, sleeping in a piss filled alleyway would be better than this.

“Oh, and Mr Sumner, do beware of the crimson peaks.” You mumble, lip quivering slightly like it was some kind of inside joke that he had yet to learn about.  

“What does that mean?”

“You will know soon enough, only if you ask kindly of course.” You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes fully. “Goodnight.”

-----

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 2026, NOW.

Tucking in the last of the research papers into your binder, the sound of snickering catches your attention, your eyes lifting up. Lingering towards the doors of the lecture hall were some guys, their eyes flickering between you and each other, a mix of condescending and mocking looks on each of their faces. Your gut churns, feeling sick as they all snicker as they look at you. It felt like you were in high school all over again, being mocked by the popular kids for not fitting their stupid idea of ‘normal’ and ‘cool’. Zipping up your messenger bag, you reach for your phone, sending Remmick a quick text to pick you up as fast as possible. You didn’t want to be around them any longer than needed to be. Frat guys can be real obnoxious dicks sometimes.

Tightening your grip on your phone, you speed walk towards the door, hoping to pass by them without hassle. Please just ignore me. Please just ignore me. Making it halfway past them, you tense up as they shift around, blocking the door completely. Clenching your jaw tightly as they block the way, you try to brush past them again, but they don’t budge. They only puff up their chests, making themselves bigger. It would be pathetic if it wasn’t for the fact that you were alone with them. Resisting the urge to glance at your phone and spam Remmick, you take a step back, anxiously looking for some other exit in the lecture hall. An emergency exit at the bottom of the steps, but there were too many of them and you would not make it there in time. 

“Yoooo! What does that mouth do, ( Y/n )?” One of them jokes, motioning with his hands like he was sucking someone’s dick. 

“What?” You furrow your brows, lips curling down at the joke.

“Oh, come on, we all know that you don’t have a gag reflex.” Another pipes in, making you flush in anger at the crude insults. 

“What the fuck did you just say?” 

“Dude, everyone saw it! Fucking Grandpa fucker.” He pipes in, making your face fall.

“You saw what?” You question, barely restraining your anger.

“The video.” He scoffs, the words sending a jolt of anger within you.

“What video?” 

“Seriously?” He scoffs, “The one on Pornhub.”

The sound of his scoff only triggers your growing anger. There was only one video that you knew it could be. But, you kept that on your laptop in a folder with an unassuming name. There was no fucking way that it could end up on Pornhub. You wouldn’t upload it. Nor would Remmick, he couldn’t even send text messages half the time. Letting out a booming laugh at your face, you lose your control of your anger, dropping your bag on the floor. Grabbing a handful of his shirt, you throw him against the nearest desk, the chair kicked away in the scuffle. This better just be a bunch of frat boys being dicks for fun and not true. 

“What fucking video?” You press, voice trembling as you force it to not raise.

“Woah! Woah!” 

“What the fuck?!” 

“What fucking video on Pornhub?!” You repeat, hearing the door of the lecture hall open. “Answer me, you little trust-fund shit!”

Grandpa fucker? Gag reflex? Flushing a bright shade of pink at the insult, you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You knew why you would be called that, your relationship with Remmick was public. He looked older than you, and he was, but no one knew the truth about what he was. So it was easy for them to think otherwise. But, no one had ever had a problem with it before. And the comment about you having no gag reflex? No one. No one knew about that other than Remmick⎯and he knew that you’d force feed him liquid silver if he ever dared to mention that fact to anyone, whether it was jokingly or not. 

Tightly clenching your jaw, you shift in place, trying to process what he was saying. Everyone saw. What the fuck did that mean? You never had sex in public. Sure, maybe kiss with Remmick or a cheeky little squeeze of your butt whenever you had to leave for lectures. But, you both saved that kind of stuff for home or the backseat of your car after night lectures. Remmick respected and loved you far too much to let anyone see you in such a vulnerable state. He’d drain them dry and leave their corpses so mutilated that the police would call it the work of a serial killer. So how the fuck did they know that you didn’t have a gag reflex?

“You saw what?” You question, barely restraining your anger.

“The video.” He scoffs, the words sending a jolt of anger within you.

“What video?” 

“Seriously?” He scoffs, “The one on Pornhub.”

“What fucking video on Pornhub?!” You repeat, hearing the door of the lecture hall open behind you. “Answer me, you little trust-fund shit!”

“( Y/ n ), what’s going on?” The familiar sound of Remmick’s voice cutting through the tension.

What’s going on? A bunch of dicks were claiming that your sex tape was leaked online. That's what's fucking going on, Remmick. Clenching your jaw tightly as none of them answer you, you shove him harder against the desk, holding back from actually hitting him. This was already enough to get you put on academic probation. If you put your hands on him for real, you’d get expended and some police charges on you. Staring at you with wide eyes, he holds his hands up in innocence, accidentally brushing against your breast. Remmick growls lowly at the sight of his hand grazing your breast, standing up a little straighter and eyes narrowing in on the frat boy like he was his next meal.

“There’s a fucking video of us online, Remmick.” You sharply turn your gaze back onto the frat guy, “What fucking video? Answer me or I swear to god I’m gonna shove my foot so far up your ass, I’m gonna make you my fucking puppet.” 

“The one on Pornhub! It’s like got your full name on it, ( Y/n ) ( L/n )!” He blubbers, making your eyes narrow at the information. 

“My name?” 

“Yeah, it’s got like your picture and everything on it! Like⎯Like your full name and a picture of you from your social media!” He nods, looking genuinely scared of you. “It’s your account!”

“I don’t have a Pornhub account, asshole. What the fuck are you talking about, huh?” You scoff, narrowing your eyes harder at him.

“But, it’s got like all your details and stuff on it! I swear! Just look it up!”

Looking over his face for a hint of a lie, you can’t find any, and that fact only angers you more. He wasn’t lying. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Letting out a sharp breath through your nose, you release you loosen your grip on him, tears of embarrassment bubbling up in your eyes. If he was telling the truth and it seemed like he did, that meant there was a Pornhub account that had your name and information on it, and apparently your sex tape with Remmick. What. The. Fuck. 

“Get the fuck out of here!” Remmick shouts, “Or I’ll fucking run you over with my porsche!” 

“If you’re fucking lying, I am going to ruin you⎯” You start, but the frat guy cuts you off.

“I’m not! It’s all over Pornhub’s front page!” 

Front page? Shoving him away roughly, you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, using the pressure to keep your tears at bay. You would not cry, because what if this was just a fucked up prank? These assholes had created a chart rating a bunch of girls before, this wouldn’t be beneath them at all. Scrambling to get away from you, you watch the three of them rush out of the lecture hall, practically jumping over them like they were cartoon characters. Covering your face with your hands, you struggle to not cry, a mix of mortification of it being true. 

No one would take you seriously now if that was true. You’d be the laughing joke of your class now. God, they might even expel you for this. One of their star pupils on Pornhub’s front page, fucking her older boyfriend. You’d be blacklisted from the industry. All your hard work. All the months of studying and mulling over research papers. All the times you had to brush him off in place of working. All the stress. All the tears. All the late nights. All of it was for nothing now. All your hard work just…fucking gone and discredited in an instant.

“Love..” Remmick whispers, his face falling at your tears. 

“What if it’s true?” You question, your mind spiraling to the worst.

“How would they even get it? It’s on a flashdrive.” He argues, “He was probably toying with you.”

“I don’t know. But, he said that he knew that I didn’t have a gag reflex. How the fuck would he know that? He could’ve said so much more, but he chose that! He could’ve said something about my boobs or something!" You argue, hiccuping as tears start to roll down your cheeks.

You wanted to believe him, really. But, you couldn’t. There were a million other things he could’ve said, something about your breasts or your ass. Maybe even a remark about you doing some kinky sex position. But, he chose such a weird thing to focus on⎯gag reflex. Shaking your head as more tears fall, it took everything in you to not sob out loud. It was humiliating, and you dreaded pulling up Pornhub to see if it was true. Remmick could barely use his phone half the time, so getting him to do it for you was not gonna happen. Letting out a soft sigh at your tears, he limps towards you, pulling you into his chest. Pressing a gentle kiss onto your forehead, he wraps an arm around your waist, letting out a low hum to try to soothe you. Why was this happening? Why to you?

“Hey, hey, I’ll find who did this.” He coos, wiping away tears with his thumb.

“Remmick⎯” 

“I’ll kill them all, I promise.” He argues, “Doesn't matter if it's true or not, or some fucked up prank of theirs. Nobody makes my girl cry.”

»»»»»» [ Naughty College Slut Rides Silver Fox Boyfriend ] ««««««

✧ 2:39 ─────────〇─────────────────────── 15:01

“Look at her, the prettiest fucking girl I’ve ever seen.” Remmick chuckles, clumsily adjusting the camera lens to zoom in on your face. “Gonna make her my wife once she gets her Master’s degree.” 

“Shut up!” You blush, playfully swatting at him and the camera.

“What? It’s the truth.” He snickers, narrowing his eyes in focus as he tries to zoom out.  

“The truth?” You roll your eyes, snatching the camera back from him.

The sight of your boobs takes up most of the lens, before it slowly zooms back out. It shows the entire midsection of your body, the soft curve of your stomach down to the stretchmarks on your upper thighs. Handing him back the camera, you push back tousled strands of hair from your face, watching him take setting up too seriously. He was acting like this wasn’t just an amateur sex tape that the two of you were making, like this was top Hollywood shit. Propping the camera up on the dresser, he flips the screen to be able to see what was in shot, tongue poking out from his lips from intense focus. Fumbling with the lens to get a clearer shot, he steps back, eyes narrowing to see how it reads on the lens. Frowning softly at how blurry it looks, he presses a button in defeat, the lens automatically adjusting itself.

“Yeah, the truth.” He nods, smiling as the screen finally captures the perfect shot. 

“Whatever.” You snort, shaking your head.

“Nuh-uh, don’t start that attitude shit with me.” He scolds, clicking his tongue. “I’m not about to throw out my back cause I need to punish you.”

“Fucking Grandpa over here.” You mock, flicking at his greying hair with your hand.

“You don’t seem to complain when I’m balls deep in you⎯” 

Flushing a bright pink at his crude comment, you scramble to cover his mouth with your hand, embarrassed that he would say that on camera. It’s not like anyone other than the two of you would see it. Though, still, it was embarrassing to hear. Nipping at the palm of your hand with his fangs, you jolt at the feeling, pulling your hand away. It wasn’t hard enough to pierce the skin, but it still left a red mark behind. Shooting him a scolding glare for the nip, he smugly smirks at you, uncaring about the scolding. You should’ve put on some silver rings to gag him with. Next time. Next fucking time you would.

“Come here, pretty girl.” He growls, dragging you onto his lap roughly. 

“Remmick⎯” You huff, annoyed as he drags you onto his lap.

“Come to Papa.” 

“Grandpa, come to Grandpa.” You correct, rolling your eyes hard.

“Ha ha ha, so funny.” He mocks, “You should go on tour.”

Opening your mouth to counter back, he smashes his lips roughly against yours, silencing your words before they get the chance to roll off your tongue. Letting out a muffled moan into the hungry kiss, you melt into it instantly, tangling your fingers into the silvering strands. The drag of his fangs against your bottom lip sends shivers down your spine, the thrill of danger looming over you. He could bite you.

He could turn you right here on camera⎯have the moment memorialized for years. God, that was so fucking hot. Digging his nails into the fat of your hip, he roughly forces his forked tongue into your mouth to taste the sweetness on your tongue. Tugging hard on his hair,  he lets out a strangled moan against your lips, the boner between his legs throbbing. You could feel a second heartbeat there.

“Don’t tease.” He mumbles against your lips, trying to shimmy himself free of his boxers.

“I like seeing you pout, it’s cute.” You argue back, breaking the kiss slowly. 

“I like seeing you moaning, but you’re keen on denying me that luxury.” He argues back, shooting you a cranky look. 

Touché.

"Shut up."

Resting a hand on his chest for balance, you lift yourself up from his lap, tugging at the waistband of his boxers. Bucking his hips up to try to make it easier to remove them without having to get up, you roll your eyes hard at his laziness, lips curling down. Yanking them down his thighs roughly, you trail your eyes down his chest, shamelessly ogling him. The light sprinklings of silver hairs that lead down to his happy trail. The broad thick muscles covered with scars from battles a lifetime ago. Your handsome little knight, all ready for the taking⎯your taking. 

“You’re staring at me, sweetheart.” He smirks, chuckling lowly.

“I’m sight seeing.” You joke, letting the waistband slap against his skin.

“I got something you can see.” He motions to his crotch, making the smile on your lips fall.

“Don’t ruin the moment.” 

“I’m not ruining the moment, brat.” He argues, shooting you another cranky look.

Good. You liked him cranky, made things so much more fun. Opening his mouth to counter back, you grab the waistband of his boxers, pulling them a little lower. His thick cock slapping against his stomach as you finally free it. The tip flushed a deep red and already leaking pre-cum. Letting out a shudder at the cool air on his exposed skin, you chew on your bottom lip, eyeing the throbbing knot at the base of his cock. You could already feel the stretch from it and you hadn’t even done anything yet. It’d hurt⎯deliciously so. But, you’d force yourself to get used to it because in the end it would be so fucking worth it. The feeling of being so full of him. 

Huffing impatiently as you drag on, he bucks his hips up, the head of the cock slapping against your inner thighs. Shooting him an unimpressed look at his impatience, you put a little more weight on his chest, knees already beginning to ache. Ugh, you seriously needed to work on your cardio. Trailing his hands from your waist, he lets out a huff as you don’t do anything, slapping your ass hard in punishment. Jolting at the painful sting, you slap him across the face hard, the palm of your hand stinging just as much as your ass does. Letting out a smug chuckle at the slap, he stares at you through his lashes, forked tongue flicking out to drag over his fangs.

“Come on, ride me.” 

“No foreplay?” You mock, flashing him a fake pout.

“Since when have you ever needed foreplay with me?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Since I started letting you knot me.” You counter back, “Maybe I want foreplay. Maybe I want to be doted on.”

“Then sit on my face, and I’ll give you all the love you deserve.” 

Letting out an involuntary giggle at his words, you couldn’t stop the giddiness that bubbled in your gut, a blush spreading on your cheeks. Dirty old dog. If you weren’t already on top of him, you’d be twirling your hair and kicking your feet right about now. Grinning widely at your reaction, he reaches between your thighs, rubbing the oozing head of his cock between your folds. Slapping the head against your clit, you shudder at the friction, chewing hard on your bottom lip. Lifting yourself up a little higher, he slowly presses the head of his cock in, letting you slowly ease down. Choking on a moan at the stretch, he bucks his hips upwards impatiently, pushing another inch in.

“That’s a good girl, dove.” He groans, his voice strained with barely contained.

“Remm⎯” 

“Shh, let me make you feel good, sweetheart.” He coos, his chest flexing with tension as he forces himself to not thrust up completely. “Fuckin’ need to make you feel good.”

Gritting his fangs tightly in restraint, you dig your nails into his chest, slowly easing yourself further down. A thin layer of sweat glistening on your skin at the intense stretch. It burns, the lack of foreplay coming back to bite you hard in the ass. Shifting uncomfortably, you arch your back softly, trying to find a position that would ease the burn. But, it doesn’t work. You could still feel the burn from it. It was practically in your fucking throat at this point. 

Catching your discomfort, he reaches up to grope and knead at your breasts, flicking your nipples with his fingers to try to distract you. A weak attempt., but the thought was there. Taking a sharp breath in through your nose, you shift again, slowly easing yourself further down until you could feel the coils of his pubic hair against your thighs. His knot one hard thrust from pushing inside of you. You wanted it, but god, you couldn't handle it right now.

“Next time⎯” You start, but he cuts you off.

“Foreplay?” He winces, cringing at your discomfort.

“Yeah, we’re doing fucking foreplay or lube or something.” You stiffly nod, “I don’t care if you suffocate from how long I sit on your face, never doing this again without something.” 

“Kinky.” 

“Not even close to what else I’ll have in mind.” You huff, shifting on top of him.

Smugly smirking at your words, he trails his hands down from your breasts, softly rubbing at your hips to soothe you. Letting out a shaky breath, sweat trickles down your brow, your legs trembling pathetically. Never a fucking again. Slowly forcing yourself up, you take a sharp intake of air at the strain it puts on your haunches, your nails digging hard enough to pierce his chest. Hissing in pain, he slowly starts to thrust up into you, the slow drag of his cock inside of you sending a shiver down your spine. Meeting his thrusts halfway, the burn slowly melts away as you find the right angle, a moan involuntarily escaping your lips. 

“Remmick..” 

“That feel good, sweetheart?” He coos, “Finally found the right angle?” 

Damn fucking right, only took forever. Throwing your head back in pleasure, you start to bounce at your own pace, the obscene slaps of skin filling the air. The burning between your thighs and on your legs easing up. Darkening as the tension in your body finally melts away, he props himself up on his elbows, smashing his lips against yours in a filthy kiss. His forked tongue and fangs nipping and devouring your mouth like it was his only way to salvation. Dragging your nails hard down his chest, he moans pathetically against your lips, hips bucking up desperately. Your lungs burn the longer you kiss him, aching from the lack of air and cardio. Begrudgingly breaking the kiss for a breath, you pants heavily, a string of saliva connecting to both of your lips.  

“So fucking pretty for me.” He teases, licking his lips clean.

“Shut up.” You blush, embarrassed by the sweet words.

“So fucking pretty when you ride me like the bratty slut you are.” He keeps going, “Gonna put a baby in you, gonna do it on camera so we know the exact moment I made you a Mummy.” 

Blushing a brighter pink at his words, he suddenly flips you over without warning, your back hitting the bed hard. Hooking your legs over his hips, he uses the leverage to fold you in half, changing the angle of his thrusts to hit that special spot inside you with each hard thrust of his hips. Punching out moans from you with each hard snap of his hips against the back of your thighs, you choke on a moan at the deep angle, eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

Drooling at the sight of your face, one hand snakes down to rub tight circles on your clit, the other shoving his clawed fingers curling around the side of your head. His thumb slides and hooks past your lips to pry open your mouth, making you gag around them. He smirks smugly, thrusting harder as you try to spit out his fingers. Clicking his tongue scoldingly, he spits in your mouth, some saliva managing to miss. It lands on your cheek, making a further mess of your face. 

“Need to make you a Mummy, fucking need it.” He babbles on, too pussy-drunk to really notice what he was saying. “Need to carry on my legacy, spent too many years doing it alone.” 

“Please⎯” You whine, words gargled around his fingers.

“Need to fill you up, please let me knot you.” He begs, his pace flattering as he mentions knotting.

You swear your brain goes numb at his words. Knotting? He wanted to knot you? You wanted it⎯No, you needed it just as he did. It made you feral at the thought of him filling you up, of being stuck underneath him until his knot finally unswelled. Letting out a pathetic whimper as you don’t respond, sweat drips down his forehead, his body trembling as he battles against the urge to knot you. No matter how much he’d crave it, he’d never do it unless you let him. Nodding your head in agreement, he goes still for a second, the icy blue of his iris slowly turning an alluring scarlet. 

Pressing his fingers harder against your tongue, you gag around them, drool smearing down your chin messily. Digging your nails into his back, you stare at him through your lashes in lust, waiting in anticipation for this next more. You clench around him, stomach bubbling up. Growling lowly as you clench around him, he grips onto your hips, lifting your legs higher on his hips. The awkward angle sends a pinch down your spine. Hiding his face in the crook of your neck, he thrusts into you hard and suddenly, stealing the breath from your lungs. The bed creaks under the force of his movements, the sound of your wet, sloppy fucking echoing off the walls.

“Gonna knot you so good.” He growls, “Gonna make you a Mummy.”

“Fuck⎯” 

“God, you’d look so pretty.” He sobs, pulling his fingers out of his mouth.

The heat in your lower gut returns, burning a thousand times harder than before. Sweat trickles down your forehead, your body jerking involuntarily at each torturous thrust of his hips, nails digging painfully into his scalp. Struggling to resist the urge to cum, you whine and whimper at the building pressure in your lower gut, wanting to keep going. Choking on a breath, he thrusts hard, the familiar burn of his knot pushing in making you tense. Even with how wet you were, it didn’t matter. The human body was not meant to take a knot, it was un-natural. 

“Shite.” 

“Please⎯” You beg.

"Not gonna fucking last long if you keep this up, lovely."

"God damn it, stop fucking teasing and knot me already, Remmick." You snap, losing your patience with his blubbering.

Bucking his hips pathetically at your words, you arch your back as your orgasm crashes down on you suddenly, vision going white. It was like being shoved into ice cold water after sitting in a hot tub. Helping you ride out the waves of pleasure of your orgasm, he grinds down against you, the friction of his pubic hard burns against your throbbing clit. Biting down on your throat hard, he thrust on last time before tensing, drool leaking from the corners of his slack mouth as he finally cums. Collapsing on top of you like a dead weight, you wheeze as the air is knocked out of you, a lingering burn between your legs as his knot swells. 

A sickening wet squelching sound fills the air as his hips jerks forward, pushing more cum inside of you. Staring up at the ceiling in a daze, you try to snap back to the present, but your mind still feels fuzzy. You could feel some of his cum ooze out from around his knot, sticky and slowly trickling down your inner thighs. If it wasn’t for him being on top of you, you were sure that your stomach must have swollen up from how much you had cum in you. Cringing at the feeling of his hot sticky skin pressing against you, you try to push him off just enough, knowing that he can’t exactly go too far. 

“Still alive?”

“Barely..” He wheezes, face all red as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Careful, Grandpa.” You wheeze back, “Can’t exactly grab an inhaler for you.”

He doesn’t respond, staring into space for a moment before letting out a pathetic wheeze. Tiredly rolling your eyes at his, you run your fingers through his hair, pushing back the sweat soaked strands from his face. Really, it should be the other way around, where he was doting on you. But, this was to be expected from your old man. He wasn’t a young knight anymore. Purring softly as you scratch his scalp with your nails, he blinks slowly, almost looking like a lizard with the slow blinking. Looking over your face softly, he diverts his eyes to the dresser, staring at the camera.

“Is the camera even on?” He questions, squinting softly.