✟Jen✟

Warnings/Tags - SMUT, Double Vaginal Penetration, Choking, Oral, Penetration, Explicit Language, Leon being an ass also we ride like Leon in Requiem as its questionable if i proofread this.

“No, the case is growing cold, I’m not sure what other options we have left. Feels like everything is running dry.” You make your way over to an open seat at the bar. “I’ll keep investigating but listen,” you sigh, “we’re heading into territory that we don’t have access to.” You smile at the bartender as he looks your way, “So, the smart thing to do would be to get us access and then we can keep going. Deal?” You shake your head before saying your goodbyes on the phone.

“I feel like you could use a drink, miss.” The bartender was now in front of you

You chuckle as you lay your phone down on the bar, “That’s just the beginning of what I need.”

“Bad day?”

You slowly begin removing your coat, “Day? More like week when you work with incompetent…” you pause, and then decide to say it, “men.”

The bartender chuckles and you pick up on the gentleman next to you letting out a little snicker. Out of agreement, maybe?

“Well then, sounds like you need something strong.”

You smile, “Now that- is the smartest thing I’ve heard all week.” You scan over the wall, taking in the bottles as you toyed with what you wanted this evening. And then you see it, “Second shelf, third bottle in, double please, one rock.”

The bartender gives you a nod and turns to take off to get you your drink.

You take a moment to get yourself comfortable in the barstool, moving to let your jacket hang on the back as you settle in. Your body letting go of a heavy sigh before you reach for your phone.

“Men, right?” You feel your ears perk up to the voice, and as your head turns you take in the man sitting next to you.

Your eyes scan over him for a second, and when he turns his face to yours you find your lips letting way to a small smile. For, well, not half bad on the eyes. You nod to him, “Yeah, always giving me a headache, especially the two assigned to my intel right now.”

The man chuckles, “I could say the same about women.” And you smile as you let out an amused huff, your head nodding as you agree with him a bit.

The bartender was back with your drink and after he sets it down, you smile, “Thanks dear.” He nods and makes his way to another customer.

The man raises his drink over to you, letting it hang in the air as he tips it slightly your way. You smile and nod as you let your glasses give away to a quiet ‘clink’.

“To those who give us headaches.” You chuckle

The man smiles as he pulls away his glass, nodding at your statement. “Name’s Leon.” He says as he brings his glass to his lips.

You give him your name before following in his movements. Letting the strong, warm, slightly abrasive liquor run down your throat.

“So, investigator I take it?” Leon sets down his drink; his fingers still wrapped around the glass as he turns his face back to yours.

You hum as you were still pushing down your last sip, “Perceptive.”

Leon smiles, “Thanks. Private, FBI, or…”

You lean yourself back into the chair, Leon’s eyes following, “Lets go with private.” You smile at him, your head tilting slightly as you meet your eyes with his.

Leon chuckles, “I see. So, you must’ve been hired for contract work if you’re working with incompetent men.” Leon smiles, “And if I recall, the FBI is full of them.” Leon shakes his head as he takes another sip.

You feel your eyebrows shifting up higher, your eyes growing wide, “You a stalker or something?”

Leon laughs after pushing down his last sip, “How did I go from being perceptive to stalker? Was I that on the nose?”

You take another sip as you bring your body back up to the bar, “A bit…”

Leon notices the little shift in the mood, your shoulders growing a little tense, “DSO.”

“DSO? What on earth are you here for?” Your shoulders start relax as that piece of the puzzle helps you understand how he could’ve come to that conclusion about yourself.

Leon shrugs, “Your best guess is mine.” He takes another sip, this time moving his face to look forward.

You hum as you go back for another drink. And when you pull your glass away you find yourself gently swirling the liquor, your eyes taking in the way it moves before you.

Leon readjusts himself in his chair, his arm brushing up against yours, “Sorry.”

You hum, “No harm done.” And this time you roll your head over to him, your eyes taking in his appearance again. And while you let your eyes wonder over him you notice the way he looks at you from the corner of his eye.

You smile, “So tell me Leon, what’s it like working for the DSO?”

Leon smiles at the little redirection you put into place, “Thrilling.” He says in a flat tone.

“Thrilling?” You smile up against your glass before taking another sip, “You sure? Your tone is saying something much different.”

Leon puts his arms on the bar, his one elbow now in your space as he lets out a deep breath, “It keeps me on my toes, but fuck-” his voice trails off when you both hear his phone ringing, “Sorry, one second.” He answers, “Hey…yeah I’m just at the hotel bar…where are you?...oh I see…for a bit…yeah I can wait…ah no, not alone…” Leon looks over at you with a smile, “more the merrier…okay…sounds good.” And with that his conversation was over.

Leon looks over to his left and then his right past you, “Hey, can you put your bag on that chair.”

You tilt your head, but listen as you slowly set down your work tote in the chair, “For?”

“We might have a joiner.” Leon smiles at you

“We?” You give him a playful look as you take another sip.

Leon chuckles, “He’s good company, promise.”

You roll your eyes, “Then next round is on you.”

Leon finishes his drink and raises his hand to wave down the bartender, “Same thing then?”

You chuckle, “Oh why not.”

-

The conversations between you and Leon were fluid. It was quick for you two to turn away from talking about work to just other common topics. And that was nice, something you enjoyed after the week you’ve had.

And in the mist of another conversation, you watch as Leon leans into you, his arm reaching behind you on the chair as he grabs for your bag, “Right here big guy.” Your breath catches for a second as Leon was just inches away from you before you turned your head.

“Well…shit…” you say to yourself as you take in Leon’s joiner.

“Sorry I took a bit…” his voice was rough, yet, comforting as he spoke those couple of words.

Leon lifts your bag around the back of the chair before setting it back down on the ground, “Jesus, how much shit do you carry around? This could be a weapon all by itself.” He shakes his head at you, his face still up close to yours.

You smile as you raise your eyebrows quickly, “Just the necessities.” And for a split second your eyes shift down to his lips before Leon’s joiner’s voice brings you back as he orders a drink from the bartender. But Leon notices and you catch a sly smile on his face.

“So, Leon, still shit with introductions I see.” The man smiles as he looks at you.

Leon clears his throat, “Oh yeah, sorry-” But before he could finish you offer the man your hand and introduce yourself.

He smiles as he takes in your hand, wrapping his fingers around it in a way that he could pull it to him, a soft kiss planted on the back of it, “Chris.”

You leave your hand in his for a while longer, “Well you’re already off to a better start then this one over here.” You look over your shoulder, Leon now rolling his eyes.

Leon huffs, “So, what took you so long.” You find Leon still over close to your arm as he peers around you. His other arm now resting on the back of your chair.

Chris lets go of your hand as he moves to grab his drink, “Typical BSAA shit.”

You shoot a look to Leon, his eyes catching yours before you look back over to Chris, “BSAA?”

Chris just nods.

“So, you’re telling me that I am somehow in the middle of a BSAA and DSO agent?” you shake your head before turning yourself back into your chair. Your body now facing the bar.

Leon, still close, smiles, “I know what a treat.”

You roll your eyes before reaching for your glass, “More like I have a hunch that we are all here for the same thing…”

Chris raises an eyebrow at that comment, “Is that so?”

You hum, your eyes still on Leon, “Unfortunately my information is classified, but I have a feeling…” you turn your face over to Chirs, “that this won’t be the last time we see each other.”

While you don’t catch it, Leon shoots a look over to Chris, a quick head tilt in your direction, before pulling himself back. Chris smiles and nods, his smile growing all without your knowledge.

Now with the addition of Chris there was a bit more structure to your conversations. But still, everything was fluid, flowing, nothing feeling forced as you three conversed together.

But as the liquor disappeared from your glass you decided to call it.

“Well, while I would love to stay, I should be a responsible adult and call it a night.” You turn to Chris, “Pleasure,” you offer your hand again and he takes it without hesitation.

“All mine.” He says as he brings it back to his lips. The back of your hand taking in his slightly rough lips again.

You let out a soft huff but instead of saying anything you just smile. Your eyes taking in his.

You look back over your shoulder, “I must admit, he is good company.”

Leon shakes his head and chuckles, “Yeah, Romeo over there always loves to steal my thunder.”

You laugh as you slowly take your hand back, your eyes meeting Chris’s again. And as you stand up you notice Leon doing the same.

“Now that he’s done, how about I escort you to your room.” Leon throws his coat back on.

You smile, “Well not sure what I did to get this attention, but why not. Haven’t been escorted in years.”

Leon waits for you to grab your bag and coat before wrapping his arm around you.

You shutter a little, “Confident aren’t we.”

He leans into you, “Need to make sure you get back safe.”

You chuckle, “Oh didn’t know I was a damsel in distress or something.”

Leon grips tighter on your waist as he begins guiding you out of the bar. But after a couple of steps, he leans down next to your ear, “Sorry, I forgot to tell Chris something. I’ll be right back.”

And before you could take in the sensation of him being right up next to you, he was gone. Your body swaying slightly as you came to.

Leon wraps an arm around Chris, “What do you say?”

Chris hums, “Get her comfortable first.”

Leon smiles, “Yes is easier to say big man.”

Chris rolls his shoulder getting Leon to take his arm back, “You know my rules. Nothing forced.”

Leon slaps his back before resting his hand there, “Yeah I know.”

But before Leon could pull away Chris turns back a bit, “But…do let me know if you end up saying something stupid to her that makes her turn you down.”

Leon clicks his tongue, “Fuck you.”

And as Leon makes his way back to you his ears pick up Chris’s words, “Only if the night goes right.”

-

The ding from the elevator brings you back. And as you watch the door slide open you are reminded of Leon’s hand still resting on your waist. His hold light as he stands there next to you.

And after the doors slide completely out of sight you feel a gentle push as Leon guides you out of the elevator.

“So what room is yours?” You can feel him looking down at you but instead of looking back up to him you tilt your head away from him playfully, his eyes able to take in more of your face.

“This one,” you point towards a door. And when you bring your hand back you open your bag to grab your key card.

You feel Leon take back his hand, the presence of him slowly becoming lighter as he moves back a bit.

You turn yourself around, “Well thank you for everything this evening. It was nice to meet you, and your friend.” You sigh, “But as you probably know, cases don’t solve themselves.”

Leon chuckles, “Isn’t that the truth.”

You smile. And as you start to turn so you can scan the card, you feel Leon’s presence again. You look down and notice his one foot now in between yours, his body up close to yours as he lowers his head. His warm breath kissing your ear as he begins to speak.

“Tell me something.” Leon keeps himself close, his eyes shifting down to yours, “Earlier, at the bar, I caught you looking at me,” he moves his head so it’s in front of yours. And before you could even think you found yourself looking at his lips again. He smiles, “Yeah just like that. Why?”

You feel your body growing warmer as he keeps you pinned up next to your door. But instead of feeding into that warmth your eyes slowly shift up to his. A smile now on your lips, “Curiosity.”

“Curiosity?” Leon places a hand on your waist. His body moving closer to yours.

You chuckle, “Huh, not very perceptive right now are we.” And when your eyes fall back down to his lips you make the first move. Leon letting out a hum to the connection. His hand on your waist gripping down as he presses into you.

And after a bit Leon pulls back, “Should we continue in there?” Leon looks up at the door, and you nod. A quick scan of your card now granting you both access into your room.

Leon doesn’t give you time to do anything. For once the door shuts, he’s back on you. His kisses a bit rough as he guides you through the room.

“Leon slow down.” You chuckle through the kisses.

“Why? Can’t keep up?” Leon kisses down your neck. His hand pushing down on the tall collar of your turtleneck. His fingers pressing a bit into your neck as he holds down the thick material.

You let out a hum to the sensation. Leon giving one right back after yours kissed his ears.

You feel the back of your knees hit the mattress. Leon successfully getting you over to the bed. And as they buckle Leon slowly helps guide you down on the mattress. His lips still on you as he lets them trail over your exposed skin.

Once your back hits the bed you feel Leon’s fingers gripping at the bottom of your sweater. His hands pulling at the fabric.

You place your palms on his chest, “Leon slow down.”

Leon stops. His fingers pulling back a bit as he moves his head above yours, “You okay?”

You take in a little bit of the fabric on his shirt, “I’m fine. Just- slow down a little. We have all night.” You smile at him, “Don’t we?”

Leon smiles as he pushes out a bit of air. One of his hands coming close to your face as he moves away a couple of strands, “Yeah, yeah, we do.”

You hum, “While I do enjoy the enthusiasm, I prefer to go slow, enjoy what’s in front of me rather than speed through it.” You let your hands run down his chest, your fingers taking in what was underneath the thin, tight, fabric. A pleased hum leaving your lips.

Leon presses his lips into yours again, slower, deeper this time.

You let out a soft moan against the connection. Leon moving one of his hands to your waist as his other keeps him propped up.

You take in his jacket, pulling down on either side of the opening. Leon smiling at the motion as he brings himself closer to you. His kisses slower, but still with the same fever as before. His hand that was on your waist now holding the side of your face as he tilts it back a bit. Giving him a better angle of your lips.

You take a deep breath when he pulls away for a split second. Your hands gripping down tighter on his jacket. But after a bit you let go as your hands move up his chest only to snake around his neck so you could pull him in more.

Leon chuckles up against you as he pulls back a little, “I don’t know about you, but it’s getting very warm with all this clothing on.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Well that’s what happens when you try to move quickly. You forget steps.” You push at Leon’s chest.

“Oh yeah?”

Leon was now standing at the edge of the bed, your upper body now back up, “Yeah.”

You curl your fingers around the edge of your sweater but before you could pull up you feel Leon’s hands on top of yours.

“Let me.” Your eyes carry up to his and as you let go of your sweater Leon was gently pulling it over your head. The whole gesture soft yet sparked with something you couldn’t quite pin down.

Leon tosses your sweater to the side, his eyes now taking in what he could see of your chest. But before he goes in for your bra, he starts removing his jacket. And then his belt. His shirt. And then finally, his jeans. And well, your eyes didn’t waver for one second as they took in everything.

“Lord what do they feed you at the DSO?” You were quick to your feet as you let your hands run all over his chest. Your fingers taking in the peaks and valleys of his muscles. Your breath catching when you would feel them tense up a little to your touch.

Leon grins loudly as he moves his face to the crook of your neck, “Coffee and donuts...” You feel his smile as he trails his kisses up your neck.

You laugh, “smartass…”

Leon hums as he continues kissing you. And as you move one of your hands to his bicep you feel yourself falling into him. Your thumb moving back and forth over his skin. You let go of a soft moan as Leon’s hands find their way to your back. His one hand making its way to your bra. And with just a simple tug from his fingers your bra unclasps easily.

You whisper, “Wow, one handed…”

Leon’s hand moves up front, his fingers taking in the center of your bra as he slowly pulls down, “Years of practice on that one.”

You move your arms down, the bra sliding off you easily. And once it hits the floor Leon takes one of your breasts into his hand. You let go of another moan to the touch. His palm pressed up firmly on your nipple as he guides you back down to the bed.

Leon begins peppering your neck with kisses as he moves his lips back up to your ear, “You know, you sure got along well with Chris at the bar.”

Your brows furrow for a second, “I mean, yeah, he’s – ah…” your voice trails off when you feel Leon take your nipple into his fingers.

“It’s just a suggestion, but we could turn this into a party if you’d like.” Leon pulls his head back, his eyes waiting to meet yours.

You open your eyes, your breathing slightly elevated while your mind works on piecing together what Leon said, “A…party?”

Leon smiles, “As I said earlier, Chris is very good company.” Leon leans down, his lips finding your cheek, “In more ways than one.”

Your next breath stutters a bit and after Leon pulls himself back up again you find yourself scrambling for words, “I mean…” Leon slowly takes your other breast into his hand, your eyes closing to the touch, “I mean…” you reach out and grab at one of Leon’s forearms, “I don’t do backyard parties, so do with that what you will.”

Leon smiles, “So is that a yes?”

You arch your back a bit to the pleasure from his hand, “Did you hear what I said?”

Leon hums, “I did, and that’s fine, as there are other ways we can attend this party. Together.” Leon leans back down, “So…what do you say?” Leon slowly moves his hand down to the top of your slacks, his fingers skimming over your waistband.

“Both of you-”

“All focused on you.”

You look back up to Leon, his eyes dark as he takes in your expression. And as you lay there, his hand working on opening your pants you feel your hips roll. Your mind now thinking about the two. And you nod. Small, yet confident. “Yes.”

Leon smirks, his voice going low, soft, up next to you, “Mmm, well aren’t you somethin’…”

He pushes himself up from the bed, his body quickly taking him over to his phone. You see the device light up as he taps on the screen for a bit. A smile on his lips as he goes to set it back down.

“Where’s your keycard?” Leon looks back at you

“My bag.”

Leon nods and sifts through your things before finding the card. And soon all you hear is the door opening and closing quickly.

Leon lets out a stretch as he makes his way back to the bed, your eyes taking in almost everything as his length was still covered by his briefs.

“Well then, knowing Chris he’ll take his time. So, while we wait…” Leon grabs your ankle, pulling you down on the bed, “I’ll enjoy my alone time with you.”

“Wait, what?”

And soon you feel his fingers curl around your waistband as he slides off your work pants - your underwear following in the movements. Leon carelessly tossing them to the side. Your body now fully exposed before him.

Leon grabs at your hips and pulls you down farther on the bed. Your ass just right at the edge before you see him slowly kneel.

“Leon…what did you-” You take in a sharp breath

Leon hums as he runs his finger up your slick folds, “Yeah…you’ll be perfect tonight.” And soon you feel him part them, his face moving closer to your center.

And as you close your eyes your hands find the bed, your fingers taking in the blanket as his tongue presses into your bud. His hands now on either side of your waist as he grounds you into him.

You rest your heels on his back. His tongue taking in all that he could of you as he worked his way pleasuring your bud. Your body slowly giving way to him as your hips roll slightly.

“Leon…fuck…” you try to take in more of the blanket. Your back arching slowly.

Leon hums and you feel it vibrate through your whole body. His face pushing more into your fatty folds as he loses himself down there. You hear it in the way he’s breathing, taking in you as he continues. His continuous circles paired with a little bit of pressure as he solely focuses on your bud. Pulling back just enough so he can take it with him.

“L-Leon…” you whimper

Leon releases your bud, his one hand coming down so he can continue his motions on you as he spoke, “What is it? Feels good with me down here?”

You let out a breath through your smile, your head nodding into the mattress, “Yes, but I need more. More of you.”

Leon smirks, “Is that so?”

You let out a whine.

“But I thought we had all night? Didn’t want to rush anything?” Leon moves his other hand down, two fingers finding your entrance.

You chuckle, “You are such a shit…”

Leon smiles, “Yeah, I’ve been told that before.” He moves his middle and ring finger inside of you, your back arching immediately to that feeling, “But you know, it would be nice if you got off for me before Chris gets here. Do you think you can do that, gorgeous?”

You nod, another whimper leaving your lips.

And as Leon makes his way in between your legs, again, he leaves behind a trail of kisses on your thigh. Each one warm as he inches closer. The last one met with a little nip that causes your leg to jolt under the sharp contact.

Leon’s hand moves away from your bud, his tongue replacing its movements as he presses down into you. His fingers curling inside of you as he aims to get you off. Your moans growing in not only volume but also in numbers as your fingers grip down tightly into his hair.

And as Leon continues your ears pick up on a soft click. A door maybe? And clearly Leon’s did to as he picked up his pace. The moan leaving you this time coming from deep within your chest as you pushed yourself into the mattress.

And then you hear a chuckle. Low. Knowingly. And with that, your eyes open.

Chris was here, his eyes taking you in as Leon continued down below. You watch as he removes his clothes. His eyes glued to you as he watches everything unfold. The way your fingers were now griping down tightly into Leon’s hair, your legs moving about slightly over his shoulders, the way Leon presses himself into you more, his moans filling the room as he finger fucked you. And finally, the way your center was about to give way to a release.

You were close, your center tightening up under Chris’s gaze. And slowly he makes his way to the bed, the mattress dipping as he moves in closer to you.

“Well, aren’t you lovely.” His hand slowly pushing back some of your hair. He talks to you in a hushed tone, “Leon likes it when you say his name. Think you can do that?”

Your nod, your eyes still on Chris when you feel it. It was blooming in your center. The warmth growing fast. And then it was here, your eyes closing as you focus solely on that feeling. You back pushing away from the mattress as you let it crash over you.

“Oh, fuck Leon,” you find yourself having to catch your breath, “Leon…” you moan softer this time.

Chris smiles at you, “Isn’t he good when his mouth is occupied.”

You moan again as you try to let out a laugh. Your body taking in your release as it washes over you. And after the crash you smile at Chris, your eyes now on him as you ride yourself back down.

Leon clicks his tongue at Chris while you move yourself to your elbows. And after a beat your eyes move back down to Leon as you watch him crawl over you, his lips trailing up your body as he leaves kisses behind. “First, he takes his time, then comes in here talking shit. All when I got you all primed and ready to go. Not very fair is it.” Leon smiles at you, “But regardless…” Leon wraps one of his hands around your waist, “I can already tell that this is going to be a very fun evening tonight.”

Chris hums before placing his fingers on your chin. A light pull bringing your face back to his. And before Leon could beat him, Chris’s lips were on yours.

He was gentle at first. The kisses light as he took you in. But when you break away to catch your breath a small moan leaves your lips as Leon works his way to one of your breasts. His mouth taking in your nipple. And through that sound Chris let’s go of a low, guttural hum as he looks at you.

Your ears catch it immediately and you see Chris’s eyes shift to something darker as he pulls you back in. This time that gentle touch he had before was now hungry. Rough. As his lips press into yours. And then you feel it. His tongue running along your lips, begging for them to open. And that causes you to fall into him, your mouth letting him enter as your tongues danced right up next to each other.

Chris catches you making sure you stay close as he deepens his connection. And when you feel like you were about to crumble completely, he pulls away. His lips coming close to your ear as he moves to hold your face. His hand now cupping your cheek.

He runs his thumb over your lips, “I’d love to see what else these lips could do.” He pulls back a bit, your eyes falling back to his.

You chuckle softly, “And so would I.” Your eyes falling. Clearly making note that you wanted him next on your lips.

Leon slides his arm under you, your body moving away from the bed as he makes space for Chris. But as you’re being guided up Leon takes this moment to take back your lips. His hands pressing into your back as he brings you close to him. Your bodies flush against each other, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you let him handle you.

He pulls back a bit, “So, now that we are all here, let’s get some responsible questions out of the way, shall we?”

You pull back even more from Leon, a slightly confused look on your face.

“Chris, clean?” Leon looks over your shoulder.

Chris smiles, “That I am, recently checked too, and you Leon?”

Leon looks back down to you, “Still as clean as a whistle.”

You smile as you close your eyes, a wave of warmth flowing over you as you should’ve asked this earlier, but relieved you three are doing this now.

You look back up to Leon, your arms still draped over his shoulders, “Clean, and protected.” You brush back his hair slightly. His eyes closing to the touch.

Leon hums, “And with that piece of information what are you comfortable with? Would you like us to use anything?”

“I…” you look at Leon again, and then turn your head back to Chris, a confident couple of nods coming from you, “I want to feel everything tonight. And I mean…everything.”

You see Leon’s eyes grow wide, his hands on your back gripping down into you more, “Well then…how about we get this party started?”

Leon lets go of you and you find yourself turning around on the mattress. Your focus going back to Chris. And as you work to get to your knees you take in Chris. His back resting flush on the headboard as he waited for you. Your eyes trailing down his body until you were met with…him.

On all fours you slowly make your way in between Chris’s legs, his length waiting for you. You raise your eyebrows once while a side smile washes over your face, for, well, he was going to be a bit to handle.

Chris reaches his hand out, his fingers finding your chin as he brushes his thumb over your jaw, “Be sure to let us know if anything is not to your liking. Unlike your incompetent coworkers, we listen.”

You smile as you let out a huff of air, “I will be sure to voice my concerns…if there are any.”

Chris smiles and nods as he lets go of your face. Your eyes now carrying down his body as they make their way to his length again.

You lean down, your ass in the air as you take Chris’s length into your mouth. His legs buckling slightly to your touch. And as you slowly adjust to him you feel Leon’s hands on your hips. His fingers gripping down in your soft skin.

You find yourself almost lost on Chris’s length as you focus on creating as much pleasure as you can for him. Your lips tight around him as you bobbed your head up and down at a steady pace. And after you felt as though you were in a good groove, you feel Leon.

Your eyes open when you feel something slide up your folds. Then back down. He was teasing you a little as your mouth was occupied. You let out a hum on Chris’s length and that causes Chris to push out a moan as he enjoys your mouth on him.

You can’t see it, but Leon is wearing a wicked smile on his lips as he lines himself up with you. And after another rise and fall of his tip in your folds you feel it. You take your mouth off Chris’s length as you feel Leon enter you. He was slow, yet impatient as you listened to his breathing.

You find yourself having to split your focus as you keep your hand on Chris, your motions the same as your mouth, all while taking in the full feeling Leon was giving you by being inside of you. For while you never struggled with multitasking, this one was new to you.

“Leon…” you close your eyes as you take him in. The stretch, the fullness it was all that you wanted and well, more, as you open your eyes to see Chris looking at you with a smile on his face.

A wave a heat rushes over you as, yeah, here you are, in the middle of a DSO and BSAA agent, and well, fuck, it sure was a treat.

Leon keeps his tempo slow, as if he was savoring you, which gave you what you needed to go back down on Chris. And as you moved, Leon moved, the both of you following the same rhythm.

You pull in your cheeks, gripping down tighter on Chris as you take in as much as you can. Your hand down at his base making sure that part wasn’t neglected.

And soon you feel Chris’s hips roll to your movements. His fingers slowly taking in the sheets as he pushes his head back into the headboard.

“Oh fuck…” Your eyes carry up to Chris as you watch him take in the pleasure.

But before you could watch him any longer you feel Leon’s pace growing. His thrusts filling you completely with his length as his fingers gripped down tighter.

You go to move your hands, getting yourself in a better position to take in Chris when he places his hands on your head, his hips moving into you, slowly, but with a bit of fever behind them.

“You got this…” Chris lowers his head as he continues to slowly fuck your mouth. And with those words you find yourself gripping down more on him with your lips.

“Fuck…yeah that’s it…”

Leon takes a moment to look over to Chris, a smile wiping over his lips as he sees him getting lost in you. He lets out a single chuckle, “Well what a sight,” Leon thrusts into you hard, your body falling a little as you let out a moan on Chris’s length, “taking us both so well.”

Chris lets out a little huff, “You know Leon, why do you always ruin the rhythm?” You feel Chris’s hips slow his hands coming to guide you off his length as he holds your head in his hands.

Leon laughs, “To piss you off.”

Chris looks down to you, “Sorry about him.”

You laugh as you feel Chris wipe away the tears that collected in the corners of your eyes. Soon a pull comes from him as he brings you up to him. Leon letting go of you as he lets himself slide out. You let out a small, disappointed hum when you feel it. Your body no longer filled with him.

“Oh?” Chris pulls your face up to his.

You feel your face grow warm as your eyes meet, a snide smile now on his lips.

“You want more?”

You nod in his hold, his eyes growing darker with each one.

“Leon, make yourself useful and get what’s in my coat pocket.” Chris doesn’t wait for an answer as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips taking you in with a bit of force. The moan that leaves you loud as it fills the room. “Mmm, you want us that badly?”

You press your lips into his more as you nod, your body growing a bit impatient to the pause that’s happening.

Chris chuckles as he moves you over him. Your legs on either side as he slowly moves you two down on the bed. You find yourself sitting yourself up more only for him to bring you down again, your chest up next to his.

“Then how about we give you what you want…” You feel his hand grab for his length as he lines himself up with you. Its girth stretching you a bit more than Leon. And as he rolls his hips into you a couple of times, his length filling you, you feel something cold. Slick.

And then you hear the soft click of something, only for Leon’s hands on your waist to follow.

“We’ll go slow, okay?”

You look down to Chris who was still moving himself in and out of you slowly when you nod, his hips now coming to a stop.

You take in a sharp breath when you realize where Leon was going. Right where Chris already was. And soon your ears take in Chris’s groan as he also feels Leon.

Your fingers grip down on the sheets, your knuckles going white as Leon continues into you. The stretch nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. It a bit sharp, yet quickly flooding you with pleasure. Chris watches your face closely. Your brows moving from furrowed to relaxed as you feel Leon entering you with Chris already inside. Your breathing catching at certain times only for you to let go of it in a slow, steady fashion.

And soon it was Leon’s soft kisses up your back that brought you back, “Look at you taking us both like this.” He hums, “You feel so good…fuck woman…”

You let out a huff of air, a smile on your face when you finally open your eyes again to look down to Chris.

“Just let us know when, okay?”

You nod, and you arch your back more, giving Leon an even better angle before looking back to him, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Leon grips down tightly on your hips as Chris grips down on your waist. And then, they both begin to move. At first together, their tempo the same as you rolled your head to the feeling. Your body so full you found yourself unable to focus on anything else. Your arms shaking a bit as you tried to keep yourself up.

Chris moves his hands up, a light push from him as he guides you down to his chest. Your head now in the crook of his neck as they both continue. You wrap your hand around the side of Chris’s face, your nails digging into him a bit as you find yourself growing more inebriated with each thrust.

“Fuck, you two…ah” You push your face into Chris’s more, “faster…”

Chris looks up to Leon with a smile and that shared tempo was no more as each of them went at their own pace. The two different paces causing your head to cloud.

“Fuck…” your voice carries in the room as you try to grip down more into Chris’s short hair. Your breathing picking up as you blend it with moans right up next to Chris’s ear.

Leon, feeling a little left out, reaches under you finding your bud. Your body jolting to the touch.

“Fuck Leon-” your back arching more as your voice grows even louder within the room.

Leon laughs but continues on your bud. You let out a sharp whiney moan as you feel your body at its tipping point. And the men notice, their paces growing even more. Chris’s hips hitting yours as he pushes everything into you, while Leon lets out a low groan, his thrusts growing as well.

“Come on be a good girl and finish for us.” You feel your arms shaking again as you tried to keep yourself propped up, but you were crumbling.

“I’m close…please…”

Chris this time moves his hand down to your bud, pushing Leon away as he does what he can to get you to your release.

Leon clicks his tongue, but quickly brings his hand back to your hips, his thrusts now growing a bit erratic as he fucks you deeply.

You whine, “I can’t fuck I can’t…” and then you let out a loud moan, one people could hear from the hall, when your body lets go and you release, it crashing hard over your entire body. “Oh fuck…”

Leon and Chris both fuck you through your release as they hold you down.

“Dammit woman, you feel so fucking goo-” And as you feel Leon’s fingers tighten more you hear it in his choppy, staggered breathing, that he was releasing within you.

But Chris, well he wasn’t there quite yet. He wraps his arms around your waist and rams himself into you as he works himself to climax.

You take in a sharp inhale, “Chris…” you hold onto your moan, dragging it out as he continues into you. You take in the sheets of the bed as you let the two keep riding out your high. And after a couple more deep, rough, thrusts Chris grips you tightly, a low moan leaving his lips as he empties himself inside of you.

Everyone was breathing loudly as the room worked on settling back down. This giving you three a moment to just stay there, close to each other.

Leon fingers hold you steady as he slowly pulls out, “Always gotta be the last one don’tcha Chris.” Leon hisses through his teeth as he works on removing himself. And that causes Chris to chuckle as he pulls you down to be flush on his chest. His hands moving up and down your back slowly.

“Hey,” he waits for you to look at him, “Good?”

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, “Never better.”

Leon smiles at that comment as he makes his way to the bathroom.

Chris kisses your shoulder, “Good, because that was,” Chris slowly pulls himself from you, “amazing. fuck…” Chris kisses your shoulder again once his length was finally out, his body letting go of a deep breath up next to you.

And as your body was taking in the post sex bliss you feel a hand on your shoulder, Leon’s grip pulling you away from Chris. You flop down onto the mattress, your eyes taking in Leon as you feel a warm towel below.

“Now that was most definitely my cardio for the week, shit…” you chuckle as Chris shakes his head, him now sitting on the edge of the bed.

Leon smiles, “You need to shower or anything?”

You take in a deep breath through your nose, “I mean I did fuck all during it, so didn’t build up too much of a sweat. And well…also…I’m not sure if I can stand.” You laugh with a bit of embarrassment behind it.

The two men laugh softly, and Chris turns back, “I mean you took both of us, Id say you did fuck all.”

You laugh, your eyes carrying back over to Leon, “So…is that it then? You two leaving now?”

The two men look at each other for a beat before Leon looks back down to you, “Well that’s up to you. We aren’t the biggest fans of just fucking and then leaving, but if you want that we will.”

You grip down on his bicep, “Stay…please.”

Leon leans down and kisses you, “Well when you ask us so nicely, how could we say no?”

Chris reaches back and grabs your other hand and smiles, “Just make sure someone stays on his side, or he’ll wake us both up with his snoring.”

You laugh as Leon rolls his eyes, “I wouldn’t be talkin big guy.”

Chris smiles as he gets up, “Well ladies first, you do what you need to and get yourself comfortable. Then once you’re settled we’ll make this work.”

You follow Chris’s pull as he helps guide you from the bed. Your legs heavy when you stand, but your balance there. You feel Chris lean down, his lips briefly meeting yours before he slaps your ass softly getting you to head to the bathroom alone.

-

In the middle, the men lay down on either side of you. And as they roll closer you find yourself looking back and forth between the two of them.

“So…like…who do I-” you feel your brows furrowing on each other.

They laugh, “Doesn’t matter.”

“You sure?”

Leon rests his hand on your waist, his arm draped over your stomach, “No it doesn’t. But from experience I’ll let you know Chris is better at cuddling than I am.” He leans down to your ear, “You’ll fall asleep immediately in those guns of his.”

You chuckle, “From experience?”

Leon pulls back and smiles, Chris coming to cup Leon’s face as he pulls him in for a deep, tender kiss.

“Oh…are you two a couple?”

Leon smiles up against Chris’s lips, his head nodding.

And after Chris pulls back his leans down to you, “Married even.”

You smile at the new development, but then feel your brows furrow as you look over to Leon, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Leon shrugs, “You didn’t ask.”

Chris kisses your cheek as your eyes were still on Leon, “I didn’t ask? Well, it’s not like you gave me a chance to ask anything. If I recall I barely got a chance to breathe once that door opened.”

“Is that so?” Leon says in a joking tone.

Chris breaks away from your face, his upper body leaning up so he can grab for the blanket.

“I mean, I barely got my shoes off. And hell, we could’ve had like one other light on in here, but nooo someone couldn’t keep their hands off me.”

Chris laughs as he pulls the blankets over everyone.

“Me? You’re the one who made the first move.”

“Well yeah, I mean…who wouldn’t if given the chance.” You face folds on itself as you shake your head in a bit of panic.

“The chance?” Leon smiles as he settles into the pillow.

And before you can say anything else Chris turns you over, his arm pulling you in.

“Oh-”

His arm now wrapped around you as he lets his hand settle on your waist, “You two can continue this in the morning. Okay?”

You smile as you nuzzle into Chris, your free arm now draped over Chris’s chest, “Fine…night Leon.”

Leon sighs as he lifts himself up again, kissing you on the cheek and Chris on the lips, “Night.”

-

“Morning…” it was soft, and a little broken with sleep as you feel someone’s lips on your forehead.

You pull yourself into, who you thought was Chris, before opening your eyes.

“Oh, Leon.” You hum warmly, “Morning.” Your eyes filled with sleep as you tired to keep them open. “What time is it?”

Leon rubs his hand up and down your arm, “5:30”

You nod, “Hmm, okay…”

You feel Leon’s chest grow as he takes in a deep breath, your head and arm following in his movement, “What time do you need to be at work?”

You let out a displeased hum, “Not till 9. My meeting isn’t until 10, so I mean anytime in between then I guess…” You let out a yawn.

Leon nods, “Do you want coffee before then?”

You lift your head up a bit, your voice still soft, “That would be nice.”

Leon looks over to you, “What do you drink?”

You tilt your head slightly, “Americano, extra shot.” A warm smile now on your lips.

Leon smiles as he pulls you into him, “Alright, stay with Chris and I’ll go get us all something. Okay?” A soft kiss now on your lips as he holds you close for a bit.

But then you feel someone move behind you, their arm wrapping around your waist. A tug bringing you into them. And soon your back was flush against Chris’s body. His grip getting tighter as he pulls you in more.

“Missed my little heater.” He mumbles through his sleep filled voice.

You chuckle, “Morning Chris.”

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble rough up against your skin, “Morning beautiful.”

Leon was now on the edge of the bed, his head shaking back and forth as he listened to Chris. He turns back, “Well looks like you’re in safe hands now, so I’ll be back. And don’t make me regret being nice this morning.” Leon catches Chris’s smug smile as he lifts himself from the bed.

And after the rustling of clothing Leon was now dressed, the click of the door leaving just you and Chris in the room.

“He might say stupid shit, but he is all about caring for other people.”

You roll your head over a little as Chris’s words catch you off guard for a second.

“Yeah?”

Chris nods into you, his grip growing loose as he lets his hand run all over your body. “He really loves pleasing people.” You soon feel Chris’s lips on your shoulder as he places gentle kisses on your skin. Each one is a little longer than the last.

“And you?” you feel your hips move back slightly to his touch. “Oh- and good morning…” you smile when you feel Chris’s hard length up against your back.

Chris moves to the crook of your neck, his breathing warm up against your skin, “Me? I only do that for people who I think deserve it.” He trails his kisses back up to your shoulder, “Like you for instance.”

Chris props himself up, his head now above yours, “How are you feeling?” His eyes trail over your body before they make their way back up to yours.

You smile, your eyes closing as you were still trying to battle sleep, “Never better…”

Chris gives away to a little amused huff as his hand continues over your body. His calloused fingers a bit rough as they skimmed over your skin.

You roll your hips back again, this time your eyes opening slightly to the movement. Chris lets out a hum, his fingers gripping down into you as he takes in a feeling.

“You know, Leon had his little one on one time with you last night, how about we make that even this morning?” Chris smiles.

You nod, “I’d like that.”

Chris leans down and peppers your shoulder again with kisses as he shifts himself lower, his length now in between your legs. “Just stay on your side, okay?”

You nod as you raise one of your legs up a bit.

You feel his tip at your folds, your body more aroused than even you were expecting this morning.

“Been thinking about something?” Chris teases as he starts to move his tip up and down your folds, your wetness getting him ready.

You reach your arm back, your hand reaching for the side of his face when you feel his tip slowly entering you. You lean your head back as you feel a soft moan leaving your lungs, “I- uh- oh fuck Chris…”

Chris rolls his hips slowly into you, his length filling you up this morning as he keeps his movements slow, steady, measured as if he was trying to savor the short time you two had together.

Chris’s free hand moves up to your breast as he takes it into his hold. His large warm hand pressing down on your breast as he gently grips it in his hand.

You let a low moan slip through your lips as you take in all this pleasure. Your hand curling more into his face as you let your nail drag over his skin. Your back arching away a bit as you let his length fill you with each thrust.

“Mmmm, yeah…you feel so good, beautiful.” Chris lets go of your breast, that hand coming up to grab your face as he pulls and turns it up to him. His lips catching the side of your mouth as he picks up his pace.

“You like it when two men fuck you?” Chris let’s go of a low moan up next to your ear

You hold in a whiney sound as you nod your head. His hips now snapping into yours at a faster rate.

“Mmmm yeah…I bet you do.” Chris pulls in a breath through his teeth and before he can close his eyes to continue, he feels your hand up against his. Your pull on it making him look at you. “What is it- oh…”

You move his hand to your neck. The size of his hand completely wrapping its way around your throat.

He hums, “Now this is a dangerous game to be playing here beautiful…” He thrusts into you a couple more time, “So I’ll play nice for now.”

You slide your hand down to your bud as he keeps his fast tempo into you. His fingers gripping down slowly on your throat. The pressure of them safe, nothing that would inhabit your breathing, but just enough to give you want you wanted.

“Gods your…” Chris slows his pace only to allow him to thrust harder, deeper, into you. “Your trouble aren’t you…ah fuck…”

Your breathing picks up when you feel the warmth begin below. It blooming at a rapid pace. Chris hand on your neck keeping your head up when all you wanted to do was let it hang as you focused on your center.

His fingers grip down just a bit more as he fucks you deeply.

And then you feel it, your moan loud as you push it out of you. Your hand quickly leaving your bud when you let it clamp down on Chris’s thigh, “Oh fuck Chris…”

This release was big, sharp, and making you very sensitive below. Chris loosens his grip on your neck when he lets himself go below. Each thrust loud as the sound of your bodies colliding begins to fill the room.

He pushes his forehead into the back of your head and then you hear it. His low, guttural groan as he rolls his hips slowly into you, his length pulsing inside. It releasing everything it had inside your walls.

“Fuck…well that’s one way to start the day.” Chris’s breathing was a bit erratic as he held you down by your hip.

You nod into the pillow, “Yeah…what a way…” You catch your breath, “A great way to start the day…”

Chris chuckles, his hand trailing all over your body as you two laid there for a bit.

-

It was almost 8:30 and you were just about ready. Leon and Chris had already left letting you go about your morning alone. As you walked out of the bathroom you slipped on your shoes, grabbed your work tote, and slowly made your way to the door.

“Oh-” your turn back, grabbing for your half drank coffee Leon picked up. “Lukewarm now, but still good…” you turn back and head out the door.

You were in a bit of a rush to make it to the office by 9 so when you walked through the front doors you missed Leon and Chris.

But the two didn’t miss you. They watched as you made your way down the steps, your phone to your ear as you walked your way down the sidewalk. The sway in your hips a bit more pronounced than usual. As if, maybe, you had a good evening last night.

Chris takes a drag from his cigarette as he watches you, Leon turning to look back at Chris.

“You fucked her this morning, didn’t you?” Leon takes a sip from his new cup of coffee.

Chris shoots Leon and look and shrugs, “Possibly.”

Leon shakes his head, “I leave for thirty minutes and miss out on morning sex…” He throws back a large sip of his coffee this time, “You two suck.”

Chris rests his hand on Leon’s shoulder, “What’s something stupid you’d say…snooze you lose.”

Leon scoffs as he takes his shoulder back, “Come on, lets go to this meeting…”

Chris laughs as he flicks off the butt of his cigarette, his strides following Leon.

-

“Here are the files. And, also, what you said last night, we will need higher access to get the information we need.”

You hum at your coworker, your fingers opening the file as you read over its contents.

“And that meeting you’re having at 10, it’s with two agents who can grant you that access.”

You look up to your coworker, “How convenient. Alright what office am I using?”

He points to the one in the corner, “I rented out that one for your meeting.”

You follow his point, your eyes carrying back to him with a nod, “Thanks. Send them in when they get here okay?”

He nods, “Understood.”

You set down your things, your face still stuck on what was in the folder. Your fingers lifting up different pages as you took in the new data your team gave you.

“Just right in here…”

You don’t look up yet as you were finishing the last paragraph on the page. And once your eyes hit the period you let them break away.

“What a coincidence to be seeing you both here…”

Chris and Leon smile.

“Told you this wouldn’t be the last we would see each other.” You hum as you chuckle a little behind your hand.

Sometimes, Chris hated his job. Sometimes. It was rare that he had such a bad day, but tonight was one of the nights he came home absolutely exhausted and angry. His boss had chewed him out for messing up a report, the coffee maker broke before he could get his coffee, and he was getting blamed for the fax machine breaking because he was in the same room coincidentally. All of it was aggravating him.

Chris didn't even text you that he was on the way home. You'd been home all day, given it was your day off, so you worried as he hadn't texted all day. Not even on his lunch break.

Chris trudged through the door, sighing heavily. You perked up on the couch, watching him kick his boots off. "Chris." You purred, grinning wide. "You're home." You shuffled, watching Chris cross the room to come and sit on the couch with you.

He sighed, leaning into you. "Missed you." He murmured.

"I missed you, too." You giggled.

Chris spent his first 30 minutes home clung to you, hoping to relieve himself with just your company. You'd even tried your best to squeeze him for relief, letting him do the same, but it didn't work as well when he squeezed because he was so afraid of hurting you. He was so sweet, so gentle with you.

But you could tell he needed more. Something new, maybe. You were both used to relieving each other with you as the one in control, Chris taking whatever you'd give him because he was just lucky and blessed enough to have such an amazing, beautiful, angelic girlfriend who was just as into him as he was into her, and he thanked the gods everyday that you were okay with being dominant or submissive, almost always open to either option, but more often than not, Chris was the submissive one.

You eased into it. Tonight would be different. After putting on a movie for you two to watch, you started by being ever so slightly more touchy. When you'd usually sit next to him and hold him, or have him over your lap, you curled into his lap instead. Chris didn't mind until halfway through an old movie, he felt you shift. It wasn't a distraction to him until you gave a small noise of satisfaction at a particularly precise shift of your hips that pressed your clothed core straight against his clothed cock. He wasn't hard, but blood was definitely rushing south as you kissed at his neck.

"What are you doing?" He asked, quiet.

"Nothin'." You hummed, shrugging. "Just wanna keep my mouth busy."

He decided not to bug. You'd bitten his arms before in an effort to keep yourself busy, so where was the harm in a few kisses? Especially if you claimed it was just something innocent and small? He had no reason to think otherwise, but when he had shifted his own hips to lean himself further back, he felt you grind yourself down against him in response, your neck craning to bury your face into his. He exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes closing.

"Chris," you purred quietly. "'m bored." You pressed the weight of your upper body against his, keeping him trapped—by choice, in a way, because he could easily move you if he wanted—against the couch.

"Watch the movie. You chose it." He huffed quietly. Not annoyed, just stating the obvious.

"I'm bored." You repeated, whining this time.

"What do you wanna do, then?" He leaned back to look at you, lifting your head up with a hand pushing your chin to look at him.

"Don't know." You murmured. A lie that Chris picked up on fast.

Chris didn't feed into it. Not that he didn't want to have sex, he was just having a much harder day, and he didn't want to bring his anger into the bedroom. Bringing anger is different than bringing stress. Relieving the stress through sex is normal, especially for you two, but relieving anger through sex always made him worry he'd hurt you or go too far.

When he simply sat there and took it, you leaned back and looked at him. He looked back. You stared. He was clearly at his wits' end with everything, so you prodded further. Chris let you lean in, assuming you'd continue your messy kisses and lazy grinds of your hip. When he felt you bite down on his collarbone, a little too hard for his liking, he hissed with a strained groan, grabbing your cheeks to push your face away, his brows furrowed.

"I know you bite, but fuck, can't you be a little nicer?" He snapped.

"Your collarbone was exposed. Not my fault." You giggled, trying to pull away and continue your insistent pushing.

"I come home, pissed off and tired, and you're trying to bite my head off." He grumbled.

"I'm just bored!" You whined innocently, slouching as he squeezed your cheeks together tighter, his grip nearly bruising.

"You're bored, so you're being a needy brat?" He spat, squinting at you as if he already knew the thought process behind your actions.

"Am not!" You sputtered through his tight grasp.

"Oh, shut up, would you?" He yanked you close, hand moving quickly from your cheeks to the back of your neck, pulling you in for an aggressive kiss of all teeth and tongue, making you melt against him, hands resting on his chest.

He didn't question or hesitate when he lifted you properly into his arms, rising from the couch and carrying you down the hall and slamming the bedroom door shut as he let you land on the bed, your body bouncing a few times before settling in the plush comfort of your shared bed. "Get comfortable." Chris demanded.

You did. You shifted to lay with your head nestled into the pillows, looking up at him as he undressed himself. You followed, undressing until you were left in just your panties, spreading your legs shamelessly. Chris got rid of his own clothes, matching you with just his boxers as he crawled over you, pushing your knees up to spread your legs wider as he met your lips with a sloppy kiss. With no warning or build-up, he tugged your panties down, the fabric tearing and being tossed to the side.

You whined. "Chris! Those were brand new!" You chided.

"Shut. Up." He swatted his palm against your clit, pushing a yelp from your lips. Shamelessly, your hips lifted for more as you bit your lip. Now you understood why he got off so easily when you'd smack his cock to get him to behave himself.

Chris' mind clouded with frustration. Not at you, but at the day he had. And right now, he just needed someone to take him seriously. Someone to listen to him when he made a demand. Lucky for him, you'd been practically praying for a day like this just so he'd be riled up enough to have his way with you.

"You like it when I smack your pussy?" He looked at you, head tilting, almost condescending. You nodded, lips curling into a shy grin. He grunted lightly, shifting to sit back on his haunches to get a better view of your already slick folds. You'd gotten yourself plenty excited just from riling him up. "Dirty." He scoffed, giving your folds another swat. Not mean yet, just a light warning of what was to be expected.

You whined, knees moving to close. He stopped you, pushing your legs open and slotting himself between them to keep them open.

"Chris, don't tease," you whined.

"I don't plan to." He said, pushing his boxers down as he kneeled between your thighs and let his cock rest against your warmth. You shifted, hips eagerly searching for some kind of friction on his cock.

Chris pulled himself back, lining his tip up against your entrance before he pushed in with one mean, almost aggressive thrust. You cried out, hands coming to claw at his forearms and biceps. The burn of him stretching you out so right quickly turned into you melting, eyes rolling back with a blissful grin over your lips as he started thrusting back and forth, hard and fast as he held your thighs wide open for him to keep a good view. He groaned, panting as the room filled with your needy moans, an occasional giggle, and the sound of his balls smacking against your ass with every forward thrust of his hips.

Your back arched, lips parted permanently as moans and squeals fell out in an endless stream, only getting louder when he lifted your hips and used you like a fucking fleshlight. He held your hips a few inches off the bed, giving himself a deeper angle as he fucked you back and forth on his girth. "Oh—aah, fuck!" You cried out, brows furrowing as your pleasure approached its peak rapidly. He wasn't bad at pleasing you, but something just sent your body into some sex-crazed mode when he got mean and dominant for once—which was insanely rare.

"Fuckin' brat. Jus' wanted to come home and love on you, but you jus' had to get all whiney and start grinding on me like a fuckin'—" He growled lightly, his right hand coming to your chest to grope at your breast, fingers pinching harshly at your nipple. You mewled, hips bucking desperately for him to keep going. "Like a fuckin' whore." He hissed, smacking your breast and earning another yelp.

"Ugh—Chris!" You bit your lip, eyes rolling back as he sped up to a pace that felt impossible. Chris kept his brutal pace, groping and smacking at your breasts until they were blooming with red marks. Just as you felt yourself break, he slapped your clit harder than before, sending shocks of pleasure through you. You sobbed, eyes rolled back as he fucked you through your orgasm, letting you gush around him.

Chris didn't stop, nor did he reach his own high. Normally, he'd be cumming within seconds of you wringing his cock like it was your life source, but it seemed his bad day gave him a better endurance. He grabbed the back of your knees and pulled them over his shoulders, bending forward to put you into a mean mating press. Your eyes rolled back, bliss overwhelming you as he pounded into you, muttering about how dirty you were for getting so turned on by him being angry.

"Never knew you were so into being fucked like a toy. Maybe I—fuck—maybe I should start fucking you like this more often." He growled, watching your eyes flutter closed as your hands clutched onto his biceps and left deep, red nail-shaped marks. "Fuckin' slut. Getting off on your boyfriend being angry, giggling when I hit your pretty pussy or your tits." He panted, reached down with one hand to use two fingers to drag back and forth against your puffy clit. You choked on a moan, smacking at his bicep to express the overwhelming feel of your pussy being used in a way you hadn't been used to. Sure, you'd gone multiple rounds with him before, but never like this.

Chris didn't falter. He persisted, one hand on your clit to take turns rubbing and slapping it, with his other hand doing the same to your breasts. Each slap to your breasts or clit made you whimper, back arching into his touch or hips jolting upward for more, despite how sensitive you felt.

Your second orgasm came rushing through you, and you were unable to warn this time. Another gush of your orgasm created a thick, creamy ring around his cock base, and when you looked down, hand pressing at his lower abdomen to get him to ease up, you were subconsciously embarrassed at how his cock was so slick with your juices, creating a mess in the hair that surrounded the base of his fat cock. Your head fell back with a garbled plea and moan, your brain turned to complete mush as he slapped your clit repeatedly in light swats, prolonging your orgasm until you were sent deeper into oversensitivity that made you sob with pleasure.

"God, 'm almost there—gonna cum inside this time. Gonna get you to shut your mouth for once. Gotta keep my cock-hungry girl satisfied, yeah? You wan' my cum inside you, slut?" He brought his hand from your breasts up to your cheeks, grabbing them to make you look up at him. You cried, tears brimming your pretty lash line that made your vision bleary and gave such a pretty shimmer to your irises.

"Yeah—fuck!—wan'it s-so bad!" You squealed, nodding eagerly.

"Yeah, you do. Tell me how bad you want it." He put more weight into his thrust, pulling steady sobs from your throat that broke with small squeaks of attempts at proper sentences.

"Wanna feel you," you hiccupped. "F-feel your cum inside me." Your trembling hands reached up to cup his face, and as much as he wanted to give in and soothe you with soft kisses like normal, he didn't. He was too close, too wrapped in the pleasure.

It didn't take him too long before he felt his balls draw tight. He didn't give a warning, but amidst him pounding your pussy like he hated you, you felt the long, thick spurts of his load spilling into you, and to encourage your final orgasm, he flicked your clit and rubbed at it roughly, pushing you over the edge.

You sobbed with pleasure, your entire body trembling wildly as your vision went fuzzy, tears spilling down your cheeks as a broken fountain spurted out of you and made a total mess of you, him, and the bed beneath. He prolonged it as far as he could, pounding your pussy and slapping your clit to watch the final weak spurts that looked like violent aftershocks.

He pulled out eventually, panting heavily as he let your legs drop, your entire body shaking as your eyes fell shut. He reached up, patting your cheek. "Still with me?" He asked. No answer, just a turn of your head. "I need an answer." He huffed.

"With." You barely whispered, your energy absolutely drained as you didn't even open your eyes. Chris didn't say anything as he carried you to the bathroom, wiping you down before he did himself. He set you on the edge of the bed to deal with the sheets before he was coaxing you to curl into him in the fresh sheets.

"Did'ya have fun?" You asked, a soft whisper against his chest as he tugged the covers to warm up your bare bodies.

"Yeah. Thank you." He murmured, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "You feel okay? Satisfied?"

"Sleepy." You said with a small nod.

"Maybe I should do that more often."

"Wouldn't get used to it." You uttered. Chris blushed, knowing you were right. He was a little too heavy on his submissive preference, so he knew this angry sex wouldn't be a consistent thing. But he'd enjoy it when it happened, whether it be you or him taking out their anger.

Chris hated the idea of dating apps. He thought they were absolutely foolish. He was old-fashioned, in that sense. He preferred meeting naturally, in person, at work, or at a common coffee shop, etc. He didn't shame those who used apps, but he refused for himself.

Until Claire forced him into the dating pool. Claire downloaded some stupid app on his phone and set up an entire profile within the 20 minutes he was finishing their dinner for their weekly get-together with Leon and Jill. Chris didn't find out about the app until the next morning when he woke up to an unusual number of notifications. He immediately thought he was late for work or he'd missed a huge meeting or—

'Hey, Sexyyy😋'

sent 1:04 a.m.

The first message read. He blinked, eyes refocusing. "Eh?" He grunted, scrolling through.

'Helloooo, sailor 😍😍'

received 3:00 a.m.

'What are you looking for on here?'

received 4:53 a.m.

'Let's meet up?'

received 5:12 a.m.

'Wowowow🤤'

received 6:01 a.m.

The notifications kept going, all vulgar or objectifying him in some way. Never in his life had he been objectified directly.

"What the fuck is going on?" He groaned. He unlocked his phone and found the app. Bumble? Seriously?!

He swiped the notifications and clicked his way to call Claire. He called her four times to get her to pick up.

"Claire Redfield." He started, rough with exhaustion.

"Good morning to you, too, Chris." She barely squeaked, yawning. Chris could hear her shuffling around to get comfortable, followed by giggles, likely caused by Leon.

"Why is Bubble on my phone?"

"Bumble?"

"Whatever. Bumble. Why is it on my phone?!"

"Because you're lonely, and you need a girlfriend. Please, just give it a try! If it doesn't work, I'll do all your paperwork for three months."

"That's not allowed, Claire." He puffed.

"Then I'll do your laundry for three months. Your nasty laundry." She shuddered at the thought.

"I told you I'm not into the apps." Claire could hear the frown on his face.

"If it doesn't work, I'll admit defeat and set you up with someone in person. But just try it, please? Just for a couple of weeks." She persisted.

Chris had a soft spot for Claire's urgency. He trusted her. He had to trust his little sister. He sighed. "Fine. If it doesn't work, you're buying our next get-together dinner." He huffed.

"Deal."

"Now hurry up and get out of bed. You're gonna be late for work." Chris reminded her. She groaned.

"See ya." She shuffled out of bed.

"Be safe."

"You, too."

Beeping filled his ear as Claire hung up. Chris huffed as he got out of bed and readied himself for work. A quick shower, lazy effort at breakfast, bad coffee, and his usual briefcase he'd drag to work when he wasn't on a mission or training.

Chris ignored the app for two days. The flood of notifications slowed but didn't stop. On day three, he gave in. 60% of it was young girls who just wanted sex, 10% were men whom he wasn't all that interested in, 15% was men and women his age who gave strong vibes of gold diggers or toxic lovers, and the rest were bad profiles or weirdly robotic greetings that gave him an uncomfortable gut feeling.

He responded to only a few, one of those being you. A younger girl with the prettiest eyes he'd ever seen, the most gorgeous hair, and a profile that really gave him a good grasp on who you might be. He noticed how rare it was to find a good, full profile on this godforsaken app.

'Hello! How are you? I hope this doesn't sound odd, but do you go to the 48 hour gym on Kippler and 6th? You look so familiar, I just can't place it, and you seem to work out.'

received 11:06 a.m.

He raised a brow. That was one of the only decent starters he had come across yet. He was still unwilling. He clicked your profile again, head tilting. He leaned over his kitchen counter, scrolling mindlessly along your photos and text boxes. You truly were beautiful, he couldn't deny. Your profile gave you an air of confidence, despite how he hadn't even responded to you yet. He was at a conflict—you seemed lovely, but could he ignore the age gap? You were likely just finishing college, at best.

He sucked it up and texted back. He took Claire's advice and let himself take a risk for once. If you weren't into him even slightly, why would you have texted?

'Hello. I'm doing quite alright. It's not odd at all, but no, I don't go to public gyms. Working out is part of my job and routine at home.'

sent 8:11 p.m.

It was dry, maybe too blunt of a text that gave away his age and hatred for texting. He double texted.

'If you figure out why I'm familiar, I'd love to know. They say that the human brain can't make up faces, nor completely forget the ones they've seen. Maybe it's a subconscious memory.'

sent 8:12 p.m.

Chris wasn't sure if that was boring to say. He tilted his head at his own text, but he shrugged and turned away as he set his phone down and returned his attention to the bowl of leftovers he was in the middle of warming up for a poor effort at a decent dinner, despite his exhaustion.

An hour later, his phone dinged just as he was exiting the shower, toweling his hair dry.

'Really? That's a pretty interesting fact! I'm honestly not sure why you're familiar. What part of town are you in? Maybe I've seen you at the store? A coffee shop?'

received 9:15 p.m.

Another ding.

'Can I ask what you do for work? No push, though!'

received 9:15 p.m.

The text felt welcoming, smooth, something he appreciated. He waited a moment, turning eventually to respond.

'I visit the coffee shop on 3rd often. It's close to me, on my way to work.'

sent 9:17 p.m.

'Forgive me, but I prefer to avoid work conversation. It's tiring.'

sent 9:18 p.m.

Your response came through much faster than before, so he assumed you must have just gotten home or finished being busy.

'The one across from Fauna's Flowers? I think it's called Connie's Coffee, or something. I love that one! I visit it every now and then, but I've been trying to cut the coffee intake. And of course, it's no worries. Work isn't always a fun topic for all of us :)'

received 9:18 p.m.

Chris found himself huffing a small laugh at your tone over text. Excited about the flower shop and the cafe, both of which had silly, cliche names. Your first thing in common—a cute cafe. He liked that thought.

'My sister recently encouraged me to drink tea instead. The coffee shop has tea, as well. It's decent, though I think I make it better.'

sent 9:19 p.m.

'Oh, do you? What kind of tea?'

received 9:21 p.m.

'Lemon or chamomile, most times. Sometimes, I'll make the sleepy time tea for bad nights.'

sent 9:23 p.m.

'Maybe I could try your tea one day :) I'm not big on it myself, but I'm willing to try anything. I had a roommate a year or two back who drank tea like it was her religion, so I know the good and bad brands.'

received 9:30 p.m.

The conversation slipped back and forth, smooth and clear, friendly and light. There was no pressure. Chris almost felt bad for having to end the conversation so he could sleep for work the next morning. He sighed as you two said goodnight, rolling over and falling asleep relatively easily.

The only other conversation he had on that app ended within a day when he declined a woman's offer for a hookup. Now, you were the only reason he had the app. Nothing developed yet, just the initial conversations to get into the groove of talking to a new person. Chris held low expectations for you, never getting excited about anything, even if he knew he enjoyed the conversations.

You were overjoyed that he was so consistently engaged in your conversations when he wasn't busy. You two often messaged early in the mornings or late evening into the darkening night. You learned about Chris' sister, his job at the BSAA—although vaguely detailed—, his favorite foods, the way he liked his coffee, the reason his last relationship ended, his dog he recently adopted that was shown in one of his profile photos, and so much more. He learned about you, as well, making a mental note of everything he could.

Your favorite restaurants, favorite foods, your hobbies, details about your family and your cat, and more he kept at the back of his head. You two switched off of the app and texted over regular messages after two weeks, when Chris started to feel okay with the developments. He deleted the app three weeks in. Claire knew none of this yet. He didn't care to give her reasons to be smug while he, for once in his seemingly miserable life, enjoyed himself.

After hitting a full month of talking over text and phone calls, Chris found the time and energy to make plans with you. He regretted not getting to meet you sooner, but each time he apologized for his lack of time, you always reminded him that you had no rush. Chris hoped—one day—he'd be as eased as you about letting time pass so easily, being okay with letting days go by with nothing happening. Maybe he'd learn it from you, he found himself hoping.

'It's a lot of fun talking to you. I'd like to have you over for dinner on Saturday, 4 p.m.'

sent 6:30 p.m.

Chris had already memorized your schedule by the vague details you'd given him, so he chose Saturday since you both had the entire day off and you mentioned Sunday was your errands day.

'I'd love to have dinner! What should I bring with me? I haaate showing up empty handed :('

received 6:31 p.m.

'Just bring yourself, make sure you're comfortable, too.'

sent 6:36 p.m.

'Are you sure, Chris? I can bring wine, or dessert. Or I could help you cook.'

received 6:37 p.m.

'No, it's quite alright. I'd like to do this for you. 4 p.m., Saturday, here's my address.'

sent 6:45 p.m.

He sent over his address, and his firm stance on doing all the work made you giggle. You knew it wasn't a lot, especially by today's standards, but it made your heart swell that this guy was being so kind. You'd learned he was a little messed up, unaware of the details, but aware enough due to the few phone calls you had with him, late enough to where he'd started babbling from exhaustion as the clock ticked closer to midnight, yet he denied your offers to end the call as he went on about how it was nice to listen to you, even if you were in and out of consciousness on your end of the call.

You two had one more phone call on Friday night. He stayed muted while you showered, and you two talked as you got ready for bed and went through your routine. You talked about music, food, animals, past experiences. So much seemed to spill out between you two, effortless and soft, and steady for Chris, who'd become accustomed to the wobbles and jolts of his job, all too used to the risk of losing someone or having to give something up for the sake of his work.

"I look forward to seeing you tomorrow night. Is that too forward to say?" His voice rumbled through the speaker, and you could tell he was getting tired already, at only 9 p.m.

"No, of course not. I'm excited! It's been so fun talking to you, I haven't even looked at that silly app since we started chatting." You told him, honest and warm.

"I deleted it last week. I found no reason to keep it once I got your number." He chuckled.

"Aw, really?" You asked, Chris could hear the smile on your face.

"Yes. Everyone else was... unsettling, to say the least."

"God, you're telling me! No matter the time or place, men are animals. No offense, but yeesh, the number of guys I had that sent me random nudes... eugh." You mimicked a gag, to which he let out a louder laugh. "They weren't even visually appealing." You added, hardly audible to him.

He chuckled faintly. "I saw my fair share of unsolicited naked photos. And I was only on there for two weeks or so."

"Maybe women are animals, too. Or maybe they're just animals because of you." You giggled.

"You flatter me," he mused. He'd grown to accept your flirtatious compliments and jokes, sometimes even returning them with his own. You learned that, despite his age and closed-off attitude, he was quite the flirt.

"I mean it, though. I really am excited for tomorrow. It means the world that you're inviting me over." Your voice softened.

"It's the least I can do for a first date. I'd take you out, but.."

"I don't need to be taken out, silly. A home-cooked meal is more than any guys given me before." You scoffed a small laugh. "Besides, it's our first date. I think staying in is a good test for a first date, and it's more intimate."

"You've not been cooked for?" You heard him shift, likely sitting upright in bed.

"Uh.. no," you laughed. "I usually do the cooking. It's how I've grown to show care, besides physical affection, but I can't really get physical on a good first date." You explained. Chris could hear you shuffling around your apartment, phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear as he listened to the ruffling of fabric, wondering if you were getting dressed or crawling into bed. He shook his head.

"All more the reason I'll cook. I hardly ever get to cook for anyone who isn't my sister and our two friends." He said. He didn't want to dwell on your poor treatment that you'd already vaguely mentioned on previous calls.

"I can't wait to be the new addition." You said, unaware of how permanent and intimate those words sounded to him. The phone went quiet, only for a moment, Chris processing the implications and possibilities. You clearly didn't hear it yourself, so he tried not to stick to it.

"I think you'll be a good addition. You and Jill would get along quite well, I think." His voice softened just a touch, and you could hear him lie back down.

"Jill, huh? Maybe. She sounds nice, from your stories." You mused.

Chris gave a low hum, head shifting against the fabric of his pillow as he listened intently to your soft breathing as you found the silence as an opportunity to regulate your breathing after how you'd been running around your apartment for the last two hours while you called him.

"Are you laying down?" He broke the soft silence.

"Mhmm. Are you?" You hummed back.

"Yeah. I was waiting for you to get comfortable before we said goodnight."

"You don't have to wait. I take way too long." You giggled, touched by his kindness to wait despite how sleepy he sounded.

"I want to wait. I like talking with you."

"I like talking with you, too, Chris." You curled up, exhaling deeply as your muscles finally released the tension of the day. "Is it weird that I don't feel like hanging up yet?" You asked, quieter as he heard the click of your bedside lamp darkening.

"No. Not at all." He murmured.

"Is it okay if I don't?" You sounded smaller, almost shy to ask.

"Yeah, of course."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He chuckled, sleep lacing the deep sound.

"Goodnight, Chris." You breathed, and Chris relished in the sound. Soft, slow, allowing himself to relax at the knowledge of your comfort on the other end of the call.

"Goodnight." He murmured back, eyes falling shut as he kept the phone on speaker next to his head. You were both quick to sleep, soft breathing and shuffling of sheets and blankets heard in the comfortable, meaningful silence.

You woke up the next morning around 9 a.m., Chris having hung up. He texted an apology.

'I wasn't going to hang up, but I had to run to Claire's for a small emergency. Call you when I'm home?'

sent 5:00 a.m.

'Is Claire alright? Call me when you've got the time, I can wait.'

received 9:46 a.m.

It was noon by the time Chris responded, and you were eating lunch on your couch when you heard your phone rang across the living room. You stood, padding across the hardwood floor. Chris was calling. You swiped the green button, putting him on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Hey, sorry about this morning." He huffed.

"It's okay. Is everything alright?" You asked, coming back to the couch.

"Yes. Claire had a rather... upsetting morning, and Leon hasn't been home in days due to a mission, so she just needed some help."

"She's okay now?"

"Yes. She's alright." He sighed, like he was also confirming it to himself.

"I'm glad. Are you alright? You sound exhausted." He could hear the frown in your face.

"I'm okay, just tired. But I have things to do. I just wanted to call you like I said I would. Are you still good to come over tonight?"

"Yes, absolutely. I'm actually just about to shower, and I'll be getting ready soon after that."

"Perfect. I'm.. I'm excited." It sounded clunky coming from him, talking with such an enthusiastic wording.

You giggled. "I'm excited, too. I'll see you tonight?"

"See you tonight. Be careful on the way here, it'll be starting rush hour." He reminded you.

"Got it."

"Goodbye."

"Bye-bye!"

Chris hung up, and you both went on about your day. Chris spent the day tidying his organized mess, doing laundry, and preparing the house for your date. You spent your day similarly, though instead of cleaning, you spent an entire hour before leaving, just picking an outfit. You listened, going for comfortable yet presentable. You couldn't decide on a shirt. The tube top screamed eager, the t-shirt screamed lazy and sleepy, sweats screamed pajamas, the shorts screamed easy. You had to call two different friends to settle on a simple tank top with a nice pair of jeans. The tank top had lace around the hem, a small scrunch of fabric beneath a cute bow at the center of your chest. You fixed your hair and hung up the phone before texting Chris.

'I'm leaving now!'

received 3:45 p.m.

He replied with a simple thumbs up. Another thing that he did—always giving away his age with how he texted. It made you laugh.

It was only a ten minute drive, just enough time to blast your music and ignore all of your anxiety leading up to the moment you knocked on his door. It was a little chilly, and you hadn't brought a jacket. You cursed the weather as you shivered on his porch, shaking from anxiety and hoping you could shrug it off as being cold. Chris came to the door moments later, rag in hand as he peeked out and opened the door fully.

"Hi." You greeted. Chris ushered you inside, taking note of the goosebumps along your arms.

"Hi." He chuckled lightly at your shy greeting, closing the door behind you. "Sorry that took a moment, I had to turn the burners off so the food didn't burn."

"No, it's okay. I would've waited way longer than that." You shrugged it off, looking around. Out of the many guys you'd been on dates with in the last two years, Chris was one of the few who lived alone and in his own home.

"You can set your purse anywhere. Food is just about ready. You can make yourself comfortable anywhere."

Just as Chris was turning to walk off, he was greeted by his large dog marching down the stairs, shaking his head from the nap he was taking.

"Hi, Buddy." He greeted the dog with a wide grin, crouching down. The dog spotted you a foot or two behind Chris, sniffing the air. "This is Buddy."

"He's friendly?"

"Very." Chris assured you, gesturing you to join him in his crouch. "He's never bit a welcomed guest, but he might be a little obsessive with the sniffing."

You crouched beside Chris, holding a hand out for Buddy, the dog, to sniff. "I think he smells my cat." You laughed, watching the dog sniff up your arms and towards your chest and torso, then down to your ankles, where your cat had been rubbing at your jeans.

"He's a good dog. Before I adopted him, he was training to be a K-9 dog for the local police station."

"Yeah? Why did he have to stop?"

"They didn't need him by the time he was about to be done, is that I was told. Doesn't seem true or valid, but he's a good boy."

"He's a very good boy. Most dogs aren't this sweet to complete strangers." You giggled as the dog pushed you onto your butt, nuzzling into your chest. You responded with thourough scratching behind his ears and under his chin.

"I'll leave you two while I finish the food." Chris chuckled, leaning in to pat the dogs head as he rose to his feet.

You remained on the floor for five minutes, taking in the surroundings while the dog got a feel for you and your personality. He didn't seem too alarmed or threatened by the cat scent, but he definitely liked to lick. You weren't used to that, being a cat owner. You snickered each time. Chris had a lovely home, you noticed. Weak on the decor, but it was his, nonetheless. Tidy, organized in his own manner, bits and pieces of him left along the house like his keys that sat on the door-side table with a keychain from Jill, his work boots, freshly washed and waiting to be used at the door, the small photo frames around the living room of photos of him and Claire or him and Leon or Jill, some consisting of the full group.

It was homey, very much his. You liked that. It smelled great, even beneath the strong scent of spices and meat cooking in the kitchen. Clean, but like he'd recently sprayed cologne or showered in the last hour. A woodsy smell lingered where he'd been next to you, spicy yet smooth, perfectly calculated in his spritz.

Chris came back, reaching a hand out to help you up from the dog. "Stay, Buddy." He demanded softly, and the dog listened, prancing to the couch and laying in the dog bed next to it. He led you to the small dining area in the kitchen, pulling your chair out for you and pushing it in once you sat. You looked down at the food, the sight mouthwatering as you took it in. Lemon pepper chicken with a side of thick-cut potato wedges with a butt load of spices and seasonings.

"This looks amazing." You complimented, eyes tracking him as he crossed the round table to sit across from you.

"I hope your tastebuds agree with your eyes."

"I bet they will." You hummed. He waited, taking a sip of his water as you stabbed a bite of chicken onto your fork and tried it. He wasn't a bad cook, but he tended to get nervous with new people trying his food.

You nodded, swallowing the bite. "This is really good. I don't think I've ever had chicken this good." You could see the relaxation in his face as he breathed out and took a bite on his own.

"I'm happy you like it. I wasn't sure what to make, but you said you liked chicken, so.." he trailed off, taking a sip of his water. "There's some brownies in the oven, as well, if you'd like some later. Claire came over to help me bake them."

"Mmh, I can't wait." You smiled, cheeks slightly puffed out due to the food you were chewing now.

Dinner went well. It was not nearly as scary as you both thought it was going to be. Chris felt more relaxed with you across the table, but he didn't dare mention it yet, unwilling to verbally attach too soon. Unknown to him, you felt it, too. A comfort and ease throughout dinner. Maybe it was the fact that all you two had done was call, but he was more charming in person. He cracked quite a few cheesy jokes and even threw out a bad attempt at flirting that made you howl with laughter, only to counter it with an even worse flirt. It was much harder to be flirty in person without the option to hang up or mute yourself if you said something too dumb or too flirty.

"Let me see your plate, I'll deal with them." You said, leaving no room for him to argue. He hesitated, but he accepted your demand. You dealt with the plates while he grabbed you two a brownie to split, finding his way to the couch with you trailing behind him. Buddy found his way to lay at Chris' feet on the floor, a low 'gruff' being heard as he plopped into the floor and went right back to sleep. The dog made you giggle.

"Do you want to watch something?" He asked, reaching for the remote.

"If you want to." You said, nodding.

"We can keep talking. I don't mind, truly."

"Let's find a movie first, and if it's boring, we can keep talking." You compromised, to which he smiled at. He stood up and walked over to his DVD shelf, listing off the ones he wanted.

"You ever seen The Terminator?" He asked, peeking over his shoulder.

"The what?" You raised a brow, head tilted.

"The Terminator. With Arnold Schwarzenegger? Yknow," he paused, "I'll be back." He said, mimicking the iconic accent and phrase from the old movie. You cackled at the bad impression, head thrown back in a fit of giggles. "Hey, I'm serious!" He laughed, contradicting his own words. "You've never seen it?"

"No!" You snorted, gasping between giggles. "That's something my dad used to watch when he was younger, but I never watched it myself." You shook your head, fighting off the giggle fit.

"Fuck, I forgot how young you are." He chuckled, but as he turned his back, you saw the small slouch in his shoulders.

"Let's watch it. You like it, don't you?" You proposed.

"I do, but I don't want to bore you with old 80s movies."

"You're not boring me, Chris." You stood up, hand brushing his as you came to his side and looked for the DVD. "Put it in." You said, handing him the disc. "The disc. Put the disc in." You immediately added, your own cheeks warming at your poor wording.

Chris snickered. "If you insist." He joked.

"I do insist." You smiled wide, all teeth and pride. He listened, putting the disc into the DVD player as you went back to sit down and get comfortable.

Chris pressed play and found his spot next to you, sitting close but not close enough to have things feel too quick for either of you. Neither of you thought that the other wanted to touch. Not in a sexual way, not yet. Chris merely wished to have you lean against him. You wished to lay your legs over his lap and get comfortable. Neither of you moved, though. Which was good because Buddy crawled up and laid across your laps, his head in yours with his butt over Chris' thighs, tail resting curled against his leg.

The movie itself was good. Chris had to explain a few things, clear up some of the lore, and before he knew it, you were asking to watch the second one.

"We have to watch the second one! We can't just watch one of a franchise and move on." You insisted, gently lifting Buddy's head from your lap so you could scurry to check his DVDs. "It's only 7 p.m., do you have time to watch the next one?" You asked, realizing that you didn't fully know what he had to do the next day.

"Of course. Pop it in, I'll refill our waters." He said, patting Buddy to get him to crawl into your spot. He retrieved more water from the kitchen, returning to find you standing at the couch, next movie already playing. "What's wrong?" He asked, looking at the couch.

"I'm not sure there's room with Buddy. I don't wanna wake the baby." You said, pointing to the dog, who was still absolutely slumped, curled into your previous spot.

"That's okay. I'll sit on the floor." He gestured for you to take the couch.

"What? No way."

"Do you want to squeeze?" He raised a brow, setting your water glasses down. "I'm not exactly small, in case you haven't noticed."

Oh, you definitely noticed. Noticed it perfectly the moment he opened the door and you squeezed in past him, arm brushing his. You swallowed. "We'll squeeze." You said. "Sit, get comfortable." You demanded.

He laughed. He wouldn't have agreed if he thought you'd actually find a food position. He sat down, amused by your stubbornness and refusal to let him sit on the ground. His arm laid over the back of the couch, fingers tapping. You shifted carefully to squeeze between Buddy and Chris, pressed right up against Chris' side, legs leaning onto his. He subconsciously eased, arm falling over your shoulder.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked softly.

"Mhmm. You're warm." You murmured, hiding your face by looking down to pretend to check your phone. Chris didn't say anything else as you two turned to watch the movie. It was a comfortable switch. Buddy circled around and laid against you, pressing you closer. After you let go of your anxiety, you let your arm relax over his waist, head falling properly onto his shoulder. Chris' thumb absently soothed over the soft skin of your shoulder.

Chris found it funny when he looked down, just as the movie reached its peak, to find you fully asleep. You were drooling onto his t-shirt, curled into his hold. He shifted, letting you lay more comfortably over his chest as he turned the TV down with the remote. Buddy yawned, finally rising from the couch to scamper off to get water, claws clacking against the hardwood floor.

An hour passed, movie long forgotten as Chris laid beneath you, watching the clock. Just after 9 p.m., not too late, he thought. It ticked closer to 9:30 when you finally shifted, your phone ringing on the coffee table. You sat upright, inhaling deeply.

"Shit. I'm so sorry." You yawned, stretching your arms over your head as you looked at your phone. Just one of your friends. You let it go to voice-mail.

"No, don't apologize. I don't mind." He shook his head.

"I really didn't mean to fall asleep. We can rewatch the movie. I'm.. fuck, sorry." You breathed, hands rubbing at your face. He reached out, fixing your shirt to cover your lower belly as he sat upright.

"Don't apologize." He repeated, firm and unwavering. "Everyone needs a little rest. You deserve to relax."

"But I—" you frowned. "It's our first date. It feels mean that I fell asleep."

"It feels like you felt comfortable enough to let your guard down tonight. I'm not offended one bit." He reassured you, watching you fix your hair with another yawn. You checked the time.

"I guess that means I should get going." You mumbled.

"Probably. It's not safe to drive too late, especially if you're too tired." He advised, rising from the couch. He reached and handed you your half full water glass. You accepted it, taking a sip to satisfy your dry mouth.

You watched him return the glasses to the kitchen as you retrieved your purse. Standing by the door, you crouched down to put your shoes on, Buddy came to nudge you for more attention. He could tell you were leaving. He whined.

"Oh, baby," you cooed at the dog. "What'cha cryin' for?" You spoke to the dog like it was an actual baby, and Chris laughed at the sight and sound of your baby talk. Buddy gave a cry.

"He likes you." Chris said, tapping his thigh to get Buddy to leave you be. Buddy gave you one more lick at your hand before he padded away, curling up where you'd been sitting on the couch.

"I'm glad he does. He's a sweet dog." You looked up at Chris as he approached and opened the door, towering over you. You swallowed harshly, cheeks warming as you subconsciously took in his height and muscle, reminding yourself of how big he was. His cologne wafted subtly past you, and you had to bite back a grin from how good it smelled. You struggled with liking men's scents, but whatever Chris wore was perfect. Woodsy, natural, with a touch of... vanilla? Oh, he knew how to pick a scent. Maybe the vanilla was that lotion you saw him use on his hands after dinner. You wondered just how he smelled so right.

"I'm glad you came over tonight." He said quietly as you two stepped onto his porch. The cold night air bit at you, and he tensed. "Wait a second." He stepped back inside, looking around before he grabbed a zip-up jacket from the back of the front door. He handed it to you. "Here, borrow this." He said, placing it over your shoulders.

"Are you sure? I-i don't need it. I'll be in the car in a second.." you looked up at him.

"I'm sure. You can bring it back next time." He said, lips curling into a kind smile.

"Next time?" Your lips stretched into a wide grin. "You want another date?"

"I do. Do you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." You nodded, eager and unashamed of your excitement.

"Good. I'll call you in the morning, then. Let's get you to the car." He said, leading you down the sidewalk to your car at the curb.

You stood for a moment, car beeping with the unlock button. You looked up at him again. "I had fun tonight." You said.

"I did, too."

"Call me tomorrow?" You asked, seeking confirmation.

"Of course." He smiled.

You leaned up, lips pressing to his stubbled cheek. "Thank you, Chris." You whispered. He looped an arm around your waist, offering a hug. He would've returned the kind kiss, but he didn't want to push his luck.

"Goodnight." He hummed.

He pulled back first, watching you get into the car and waiting for you to leave before he went back inside. Buddy came to his side.

"She's great, isn't she?" Chris grinned. Buddy gave a sharp yip, a noise of eager agreement. "Yeah, Bud, I know. She's... somethin'." He breathed, finding his way to his bedroom.

Things only went uphill for you two. They remained slow, innocent, and hopeful. Over three months, Chris either took you out or had you at his place as often as his schedule and energy would allow. Every date with you made him happier. For once, he didn't fear loss. He feared nothing with you next to him. You two barely started goodbye kisses at the end of two months, Chris' excuse being that he wanted to make sure you two were mentally and emotionally equal before anything physical outside of cuddling or hand holding or hugging. His slow pace made you giggle, gave you a special jump in your heart every time he reassured you that he wasn't being slow out of dislike, but out of need for certainty.

The first time Chris spent the night at your place, he was beyond excited. There had been too many times over the last four months that you two fell asleep together, but you two never stayed overnight out of respect for the other's schedule and needs. You two took the time to secure a few days for each other that lined up perfectly for him to stay at your place.

"Hello, little kitty." Chris mused at your cat, watching the small kitten stretch next to him on your bed as he waited for you to change, back turned to you.

"She's showing her belly." You giggled.

"Mhmm. But if I touch it, she's gonna attack." Chris squinted jokingly at the small cat. He poked her belly, proving himself right when she bit and pawed at his finger, playful.

"Alright, miss meow, it's bedtime." You picked up the cat. "Let's go, baby." You purred to the cat, bringing her over to her own bed in the living room. She had her own nook and area in the living room with a pee pad, a litter box, and two bowls of freshly filled food and water. She was still being trained, so you couldn't yet sleep with her in the bedroom. You returned to Chris, grabbing a jacket—which he had yet to take back—from your bed and hanging it up on the back of your door.

"We gonna lay down?" He asked, shifting on the bed.

"You ready to?" You asked, crawling into bed next to him. He nodded, shuffling underneath the covers to get closer to you as you both laid down and got comfortable. Chris was awkward, to say the least.

"This is easier when we aren't thinking about it." He admitted, earning a laugh from you.

"It's okay. I'm a little nervous, too." You reassured him, bringing yourself closer to him, an arm wrapping around his torso. He returned the gesture, tugging you closer, just enough to feel you against him, your leg laying over his thigh.

"I could get used to this." He murmured.

"I think I already am." You smiled, hand gently tracing along the muscles of his shoulder blades.

He huffed a laugh, letting silence fall. He took a moment to watch you, brushing his thumb back and forth against the revealed skin beneath your tank top that pinched around your waist. He took a moment to absorb your details. He took in your eyes, the gorgeous color of your irises, your pretty lashes that you'd bat at him and giggle when he'd ask what movie you wanted to watch and you'd say "whatever you'd like" and he could only chuckled and pat your shoulder with an exaggerated, fond eye roll. He loved watching you trace his features with your eyes. He loved taking you in.

"You're so unbelievably beautiful. Have I told you that?" He blurted out. He loved watching you giggle at his compliments, your cheeks warming.

"You have. But I'm okay hearing it again." You mused, hand tracing up his shoulder, up his neck, jawline, and finding home on his stubbled cheek. "You're not bad yourself, Mr. Redfield." You teased. "Very handsome. Very easy on the eyes."

"Don't.." he laughed faintly, an uncertain sound. "Don't call me 'Mr.' It makes me sound old." He eased out, a little hesitant. You shifted.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that." You promised, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"No, I know. It's.. It's still a little hard to get used to this. Not only the fact that you're my girlfriend, but... you're so young. You're more than an adult, and you're not immature or anything, and it's definitely not illegal.."

"But age gaps get a bad wrap." You added. He nodded. "I don't care that you're older." You reminded him.

"I know you don't care."

"But?" You prompted, earning a chuckle from him due to how well you knew his tone.

"I worry." He said simply.

"Why?" You sat up, turning to him.

"It's not the worst that I'm older. It's the fact that I'm so messed up. I have a lot of.. extra baggage. My job hasn't been kind to me, in physical or mental terms." He explained, sighing quietly. "I'm afraid that I'll... I don't know, corrupt you somehow. Make your spark go out." He looked up at you.

"Corrupt me? Make my spark go out?" You asked. "Chris, oh god," you scooted closer, shaking your head. "I don't think that would be possible with you. You've brightened my spark, if anything." You told him, to which he couldn't help but smile.

Chris sat up, trying to think of a proper response. You scooted into his lap, holding his face in your warm, soft palms, a sensation Chris had become all too weak for. "I'm sorry. Now I feel I've ruined the moment."

"Never. The moment is never ruined with you." You leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Tell me you'll relax. I'm aware of the base troubles you deal with. You're aware of mine. I'm choosing to explore this with you. I want to be with you. Ups and downs, sickness and health."

"Sounds like marriage vows." He chuckled.

"Well, not yet. But I do mean what I said." You mused, finding his lips with yours to soothe him with affection without shutting him down.

"Thank you." He sighed, curling his neck to lay his forehead in the crook of your neck, tugging you closer. "You're amazing. Best I've ever had." He muttered quietly. "I love you." He breathed out.

It wasn't the first time he said it, but he struggled with saying it directly, so hearing him say it meant the world to you. "I love you, Chris." You squeezed him, one hand cradling the back of his head. Chris felt safe. Comfortable. Eased. He hadn't felt this with someone in a very long time, not in such a permanent way. He could fall asleep like this—he almost did before you had to move after a while, hips burning from the stretching of your thighs straddling his hips.

He rolled onto his side and curled himself around you, spooning you from behind. "Goodnight." He murmured, nose pressing to the nape of your neck with his lips lazily pressing to your back as he relaxed.

"Goodnight." You hummed back, falling into a soft silence as he leaned his weight onto you, providing a comfortable pressure to let your body go completely limp.

Chris spent the weekend with you, his attention tearing away only to respond to Claire or work. You two spent it at your apartment, switching between your bed and the living room. Saturday morning was spent relaxing over breakfast that you made, leading into some craft thing that you wanted to try, following into lunch and then some time for you two to sit in the same room and not interact but still enjoy each other's company. Before dinner, you showered, and after dinner, Chris showered. He had agreed to stay the night again.

Sunday night, just after dinner, you two had about an hour and a half before Chris needed to go home. Claire had only agreed to check on Buddy for the two days you'd originally planned, and he had to go to work early in the morning.

He was laid on top of you, hugging you tight as his head laid on your chest. "Think I'm getting too used to you." He joked faintly.

"'S that a bad thing?" You asked, brushing your fingers along his short hair.

"No. Unless you're sick of me."

"Could never be sick of you." You mused, lifting his head up to have him scoot closer to kiss you. Your thumbs brushed over his cheekbones, palms feeling his scruffy, unshaven cheeks. He hummed into the kiss, letting you lead it as you deepened it as a slow, experimental move.

"Hope not. I think I'd go into withdrawals without your kisses like this." He shifted up closer, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head as his body slid between your legs, a move that you eagerly, almost subconsciously accepted with a soft moan against his lips. Chris almost hesitated, but the soft moan that slipped from you made him shiver.

You giggled faintly, legs coming to wrap around his hips, ankles loosely hooking together. He exhaled roughly through his nose, a shuddered sound that made you pull back. "What was that?" You raised a brow.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Sorry." He tried to play it off, but as he leaned back in, the hesitation worsened. You were saddened to open your eyes when you didn't find his lips on yours.

"What's wrong?" You persisted.

"Is this okay? Do you feel okay like this?" He asked finally, words spat out like he was suffocating himself to not sound so anxious and concerned.

"Yeah, I feel okay. This is okay."

"This being..?" He prompted, hoping to pull more from you to get confirmation of being on the same page.

"Making out?" You laughed faintly at his strategy of asking so vaguely, but it worked.

"Okay. Cool. Good." He murmured, nodding. "And.. if it were to... advance?"

"I'd be okay with that. Do you want that?"

"Only if you do." He said, voice soft yet firm in his stance.

"Then let's see where it goes, yeah?" You mused, letting yourself lean in to initate the kiss once more. Chris melted, body weight pouring into you as he returned the kiss, still pressed innocently between your thighs. His hand remained on the back of your head, the other venturing downward to grasp at the bare skin of your thigh where your sleep shorts had ridden up, leaving little to his imagination. He grunted lightly at the way your thighs squeezed around his body, like you were encouraging him.

"You're gonna be the death of me, y'know that?" He huffed, listening to you giggle at his agony.

"Oh, I hope not. Then I'd be all alone, no one to kiss, no one to love.." You teased, head diving downward to kiss at his jawline and neck, nipping at his adam's apple. His breath hitched, head tilted back.

"Jesus," he breathed. "can't leave you all alone like that, huh? That'd be cruel.." He mumbled, gently nudging your head back to return the more heated gesture of nipping at your neck, going lower toward your collarbone.

"Oh, fuck.." you breathed, head falling back onto your pillows with a small huffy laugh. He didn't hesitate this time. It was convenient timing—you never wore a bra to bed, so it was easy for him to see the way your nipples pebbled from goosebumps along your skin, caused by his kisses.

"Is it okay—"

"Don't ask. Just go ahead. I'll tell you if I need you to stop." You interrupted him, and he felt a strong sense of pride that you felt so safe with him, comfortable enough to give him full control and trust. He nodded. He worked slowly as he worked your shirt up your body, pressing it higher and higher until he hesitated just below your breasts. He glanced at you, but you had nothing but calm in your eyes. He continued, pushing the fabric higher so it bunched up above your tits. He leaned down, pressing an experimental kiss between the two mounds.

When you didn't object, he moved further, lips finding their way to wrap around one of the nubs, the other being palmed gently with his rough palm. You gave a small whine, head falling back again. Chris pressed his tongue to your nipple, circling slowly and flicking back and forth every few seconds. One hand came to the back of his head, encouraging him to continue and even go further with his stimulation.

"Chris," you moaned softly, and you felt him tense above you. His biceps flexed as one hand gripped at the sheets, the other hand unintentionally becoming rougher with the groping of your breast. You didn't object, and Chris didn't catch himself, so it continued that way. He finally parted from your breasts, kissing back and forth from your collarbone to just below your breasts.

He worked his way down, pausing at the waistband to look up at you. You didn't stop him, but you did pull him back up, eager to kiss him and distract yourself from the nerves that began to bubble. Chris pushed your shorts down, and he was both pleased and shocked to find your lack of underwear. He stared, and for once, you looked away, cheeks warming bashfully.

"Do you always sleep this way?" He asked bluntly.

"It's comfortable. And good for the body." You murmured.

"I'm.. I'm not teasing." He promised, looking back up at you to catch your lips with his once more. "Just can't believe it. It's a little shameful to admit, but it's making sleepovers a lot more tempting." He gave a chuckle against your lips.

"You're such a perv!" You giggled, but it didn't deter either of you. Chris used both hands to shift your thighs and spread them further, his right hand coming to hover merely an inch from your folds.

"This is okay?" He asked quieter. You nodded, hips shifting. Chris took that consent, deepening the kiss as he brought two fingers to slide between the wet folds of your core. You shivered, and so did Chris. He spread your arousal, slow and gentle, his middle finger and ring fingers coming together at the top to meet and apply a delicious pressure to your clit that pulled a soft whimper from your throat. He groaned, leaning his head down to your neck.

He didn't hesitate this time, not with how your hips bucked into his touch. He spent another minute or so spreading the wetness and massaging your clit before his fingers finally dipped lower. His middle finger circled the hole before it dipped in at long last, slow and cautious. Coincidentally, he'd recently cleaned up his nails of all jagged and uncomfortable points, so it came in handy. The insertion of his finger made your body tense, but not from discomfort. Your head fell back, a soft sigh leaving your lips.

Slowly, his finger pulled back, only to press back in. He worked on pumping the one finger, allowing you to feel and adjust while giving himself time to figure you out. It took a moment, but he got the hang of it once he curled his finger and got a small mewl from you. He kissed his way back down to your chest, lips latching onto one nipple again as he worked in a second finger alongside his first one. Two fingers pumped into you, speed increasing slowly as he pulled more sounds of pleasure and satisfaction from you. He knew what he was doing, and you seemed to enjoy it, so he continued, fingers curling and pressing perfectly into the spongy spot inside of you.

A louder moan pulled from you, eyes rolling back as your body arched off the bed and into his touch. Hips ground against his fingers, chest pressed further toward his hungry mouth. Chris lifted his head, earning a whiney groan from you. "Just relax. I'm not going anywhere, gorgeous." He mused, lips finding yours in a deep, messy kiss of all teeth and tongue.

"F-fuck, you'd better not." You barely huffed, eyes fluttering shut with an eye roll. Chris chuckled at that but didn't stop. "Mmh, Chris," your head fell back, brows knitting tight together. "Do o-one more." You panted lightly.

Chris blinked, but he obeyed. He worried he'd hurt you, fingers slowing so he could gently work a third finger into the tight warmth of your cunt. He hissed lightly, a sound of concern as he watched your body tighten, muscles taut. Much to his satisfaction, you melted seconds after, another loud moan following.

"Chris, 'm gonna—" You gasped. "Gonna cum!" You mewled, nails digging into his shoulders. He found your lips again, groaning into the kiss as he felt you come undone. The coil in your stomach snapping, gushing around his fingers with an accompanying cry of pleasure that made him impossibly harder. He worked you through it, peppering kisses from your lips to your breasts, and back up.

Once you gently pushed at his wrist, he let up. Fingers retracted slowly, and he reached over to the bedside table to grab a tissue and clean your slick off of his fingers. You blinked, vision finally clearing as you looked up at him. Instead of moving to ask for more, Chris laid next to you, smiling warmly and engulfing you in a secure, comforting hug. "You feel alright?" He murmured.

"Mhmm. Feel better than alright." You mused, rolling over to curl into him, mouthing lazily at his neck. Chris stiffened lightly. "Yknow, I can go again." You said quietly, an indirect proposal.

"We don't have to, pretty girl." He chuckled faintly, leaning down to kiss you softly, more controlled this time.

"But you're still.."

"It doesn't matter. Unless you want to, I don't matter until you want to." He shook his head.

"I want to. I do." You urged, nodding. "I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to."

"Are you positive?" He asked, brows furrowed faintly. "I really, really don't want this to be caused by any pressure just because I've got a boner. I'm not gonna complain about 'blue balls' or any—"

You cut him off with a deep, disarming kiss. He melted on the spot, eyes closing as he exhaled shakily, a hand resting on your hip. "Shut up and let me fix your problem." You muttered, muffled in the kiss.

"Yeah, okay.. I can do that." Chris mumbled, watching you pull away and roll over to your side of the bed, rummaging for a condom. He watched you grumble for a few seconds before you pulled out a condom, clearly old. You inspected it carefully. You barely uttered something about it not being expired and there being no signs of sabotage before you were crawling back into his lap, letting him get comfortable, laid back against the pillows with his hands finding their way to your thighs, still bare.

With a small tug of your hand against his shirt, he was discarding it to the floor in seconds. It was humorous—how quickly he went from denying his pleasure to being as eager as a dog in a rut, eager to get the attention his body craved. He hadn't gotten lucky like this in a while, and he was beyond grateful that it was with you. He made that clear through the soft, slow touches of his hands moving all along your body, from your thighs to your chest, stopping occasionally to grope and squeeze.

You undid the tie of his sweats, tugging gently as you lifted your hips and he did the same, helping you push down his sweats and boxers just below his mid-thigh, just enough to let his cock properly spring free, a sight that made the heat boil in your lower belly once more, almost like it was never satisfied in the first place. Thick, heavy, clean and well-groomed with a base coated with thick, coarse hair that led into the happy trail you'd grown to love catching glimpses of. You kept your hips hovering as you reached down and slowly rolled the condom onto his cock until it was fully stretched over the thick length, snug at the base. You shifted, lining him up to press the tip to your entrance. Chris held your hips, almost like he was bracing you for impact.

"I can do it myself, Chris." You snickered, grabbing his hands and intertwining your fingers with his, holding sweetly before you eased onto the first inch. Your thighs trembled, a small whine leaving your lips with Chris' hiss.

"I don't doubt you.. I just... ah, I know I'm a little above average.." Chris mumbled. He didn't brag about it, but rather he seemed bashful by mentioning his size, which was definitely above average.

"I can take it." You looked up at him, hips relaxing as you eased your way down, inch by inch, until you were seated fully on his cock, watching him throw his head back.

"Jesus Christ." He breathed a laugh, brows knitted together as he took a moment to recover from the long awaited feeling of being stuffed inside of you. When you lifted your hips barely an inch, he let out a low moan of your name, biting his lip as he held your hands tighter. You eased into deeper thrusts, taking more as time went on. Your moans melted with his, a harmony of high and low pitches, accompanied by chokes and whines and gasps. Chris looked down finally, watching your pussy completely engulf him, like he wasn't the biggest you'd taken.

"Chris, oh God," you whimpered, dropping onto his cock completely, and Chris' lips parted with a deep moan as he watched the faint imprint of his cock in your lower belly, gaze torn between watching you implae yourself on his cock, watching your face, or watching how your tits bounced as your picked up the pace, despite your shaky, unsteady thighs.

His hands found your hips again, halting you momentarily. "Let me do this. You're shaking."

"Of course, I am. I've got a fucking monster inside of me." You huffed at his words, only earning a chuckle.

"You flatter me." He mused, only to lift your hips and keep you hovering as he moved his own hips. He began to thrust up into you, grunts of effort and moans of pleasure filling the room, alongside the sound of skin against skin, soft slaps of his balls hitting your ass. Your head fell back, one hand coming down to find your clit as you felt your orgasm build up, desperate to get there as soon as you could, eager for your own peak.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful. Wish you could see yourself." He gave a faint, choked whine, but neither of you processed the whine. All you heard was his pleasure, and that encouraged your own high. Chris picked up the pace, head falling back as his cock twitched inside of you.

You tried desperately to fuck back onto him, to meet in the middle with each thrust, but it became harder and harder as your thighs couldn't comfortably hold you up anymore without burning at the effort. Chris' fingertips dug into the flesh of your hips, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he searched for a deeper angle. You shifted slightly, leaning back and using his thighs to hold yourself up, fingernails digging into his thighs as his thrusts faltered momentarily, the slight shift in position causing a tighter sensation as you practically sucked him in deeper.

You looked down at him, watching him blink and have to recalibrate himself. "Did you—"

"No. God, no." He huffed, almost offended. "Can't yet." He said, but before you could ask what he meant, he was already back at it, thrusting up into you with a mix of caution and desperation, curses and moans falling from his lips.

He kept your hips steady with one hand, and the other came to find your clit, circling it roughly to encourage your pleasure. You mewled, melting slightly as you struggled to hold yourself up with your arms.

"Chris, I can't—ah!" You gasped, thighs jolting at the way he doubled his efforts.

"Come on, pretty, just a little more." He panted heavily. He could feel you were close, and the fact that he felt it so easily only turned you on more, combined with how easily he held you up like a fucking ragdoll. You couldn't even get another word out before you were coming apart in his grasp, and he was only seconds behind you. Whimpers and moans mixed together as he spilled his cum into the condom, your pussy gushing and pulsing around him. He slowed, hands sliding up your body and gently pulling you to lay on top of him. His cock twitched, and your walls clamped with aftershocks. You panted heavily, face buried into his shoulder as you groaned.

It was quiet as you two came down. He let you fully ease before he pulled out and discarded the condom in the bedside table. He rolled onto his side, keeping you close as he peppered your shoulders and jaw with kisses, soothing your shivers and shakes.

"I'm gonna get you some water and call Claire, 'kay?"

"Why are you gonna call Claire?" You asked, letting him untangle himself.

"I can't just leave you. Not tonight, no." He scoffed. "I'm gonna see if she can check on Buddy one more time for me. If not, I'll run home and be right back." He leaned over you, kissing your forehead and brushing your hair out of your face.

"Chris, you don't have to stay.." you mumbled. "I can clean myself up, and I'm fine to sleep alone. Don't you have work tomorrow, anyway?"

"Yeah. It's only a ten minute drive from here, so I'll just leave early so I can get home before I need to leave for work." His words made you melt, your heart pounding no longer from adrenaline or sex, but from the sheer care and love he was showing. "Stay here, yeah?"

You nodded, curling into the blankets to get comfortable, watching him grab his phone and walk off. In your previous relationships, your partners hadn't been as caring. If sex happened on a night where they hadn't planned to stay over, they were perfectly fine to leave you on your own, unwilling and blind to your emotional needs once they'd gotten their fill. You felt yourself tearing up, but as you tried to wipe your eyes with the blanket, Chris came back, clicking a button on his phone and crawling back into the bed with you.

He heard you sniffle, and he leaned over to find you desperately trying to stop the tears from flowing. "Hey, what—what's wrong? Are you hurt? Did I do something wrong?" He panicked, gently rolling you over to face him so he could help you sit up. You looked away from him, choking on your own bubbled cry.

"No, I.." you hiccuped.

"Do you want me to stay? I'll leave if you want. What do you need?" He asked, his hands no longer touching you to avoid physically overwhelming you.

You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks. "Nobody stays unless I ask them to." You barely got it out before another cry bubbled in your throat, and he reached out to help wipe your tears.

"It's the bare minimum, honey." He murmured. "I'm sorry nobody else has done this for you." He tilted your face to look at him. "But I'm not gonna do that unless it's what you want."

"Don't go yet." You hiccuped, finally looking at him properly.

"I won't." He waited, and once you were ready, you leaned in and found safety in his arms, the skin-to-skin providing a warmth and comfort that you hadn't been offered in a long time. "I'm here all night. And I won't leave without telling you." He promised, tugging you into his lap. Thankfully, he didn't have to go. Claire had agreed to check on him one last time for the night to ensure he had food and water and that he could be let out one more time before bed. So he was set to stay the night.

When you finally pulled back, he gently wiped your tears, allowing you to breathe for a moment before he spoke up, "Do you want to shower before we go to bed? Or just a quick clean up?" He asked, brushing his fingers through your hair.

"Shower. I'm sweaty, and I don't wanna stink in the morning." You sniffled.

"Drink some water while I warm the shower and get you some clean pajamas." He said, gently patting your hip and pecking your lips one more time.

He kept his word. He stayed the whole night, and at 5 a.m., when his alarm went off, he was reluctant to go. You didn't have work, so he felt horrible when you stirred all too early. You curled into him, rolling to lay on him.

"Good morning." He whispered, voice hardly audible as he yawned.

"G'mornin'." You yawned back, shoving your face into his neck.

"I gotta leave soon." He warned gently.

"I know." You whined.

He let you wake up slowly until his second alarm went off, making you grumble and sit upright, tugging your blanket around you. He chuckled. "I know it's early. I'm sorry." He leaned up, shifting behind you so he could gently kiss at the nape of your neck and shoulders, pushing your hair aside and soothing his rough palms along your waist and ribcage.

"It's okay." You melted into the touch, letting his hands roam as they pleased.

"You ready to get up? Or do you wanna stay in bed while I get ready?"

"I'll make you some coffee. Maybe some eggs, too." You murmured, shifting slowly to crawl out of bed. He followed, craning to kiss you from behind as you gave a lazy, sleepy peck in return.

You went to the kitchen, yawning as you greeted your cat, carrying her around as you readied the coffee maker and heated a pan for making him some scrambled eggs. The cat slept comfortably in your hold, and you managed to cook with one hand. Chris came out, laughing quietly at the sight. It had been a long time since he woke up to such a domestic scene. His cold, old heart had softened so much since meeting you.

"She's just like you." He joked, referring to your clinginess in the mornings that he'd noticed just the last couple of mornings he spent with you.

"She's a baby, of course she is." You snickered. Chris went over to the coffee maker, pouring himself a small mug and using some of your creamer from the fridge. Another thing he'd gotten used to with you—coffee with creamer. Yes, he was still trying to lower his coffee drinking, but he felt less guilty about it when you made it for him. After a few minutes, you and Chris basked in the silence of the morning, the eggs finished cooking, and the cat finally let you set her down once you got her fresh food and water as well.

Chris sat to eat the eggs, and you sat to eat some toast, both still groggy and exhausted. You were sore, Chris wasn't. He spoke first. "Do you feel okay?" He asked, looking up at you. "About last night, I mean. The sex." He said, more bluntly.

You looked up at him, nodding. "I liked it, Chris. I don't regret it, if that's what you're asking. And no, it didn't make me uncomfortable."

"Okay. Good. That's the last thing I wanted." He relaxed, shoulders visibly dropping.

"Though, whenever we do it again, it's gonna be a while before I'm on top again. That hurts." You said bluntly. Chris sputtered slightly, choking on his food like he wasn't expecting you to say 'do it again'.

"Yeah, I.. I figured." He laughed quietly, clearing his throat as he sipped his water.

"Other than my thighs being sore and wobbly, it was good." You reassured him. "Do you feel okay about it? It goes both ways, Chris." You reminded him, reaching out to take his hand.

"I feel good. I'm.. I'm glad you trusted me with it, considering the stories you've told me about your previous partners."

"I have no reason not to trust you. You've been nothing but perfect with me." You reassured him, smiling softly. He squeezed your hand.

He wasn't sure what to say next, but he was startled by his final alarm, reminding him he had to leave in the next five minutes or he'd be late. "Shit." He sighed, rising from his chair to deal with his plate, taking the final two bites to quickly finish the eggs. You stopped him from washing the plate.

"Go get your bag. I'll wash it later." You urged him, not letting him argue as you walked to put your slippers on so you could walk him out to his car. Chris was quick to get his overnight bag and slip his shoes on before he met you at the door.

"Stay here. It's early, the sun is hardly up yet." He said, unwilling to let you roam your apartment building so early. He didn't like the look of some of your neighbors he'd seen in the few times he'd come by. You snickered. You would argue, but you knew he was right.

"Be safe, okay? Let me know when you get to work." You raised onto your tip toes, pecking his lips gently. He wrapped you into a tight hug, pecking along your shoulders and neck before he found your lips again.

"Go back to sleep. I'll text you."

"Promise?" You looked up at him, mostly jokingly.

"Promise." He pulled back, gaze lingering before he had to unfortunately turn and open the door. He turned back for one more kiss, a longer one this time. Chris was big on kisses, especially before you two had to part for however long until you two had the time to meet again.

"I love you." He stepped back.

"I love you, too. Go on, don't be late." You ushered him out, giggling as he exaggerated his heavy footsteps, like it weighed him down as he left. You blew him a kiss, and he caught it and 'saved it for later' in the pocket of his jacket.

He was so cheesy, so mushy, and it never failed to make your heart swell. It kept you warm, happy and settled for the days he couldn't see you.

A slither of sunlight cast over your closed eyes slowly drags you away from your sleepy stupor and with a heavy head you roll over to dodge its beam. It must've been late afternoon already, the sun had done a half-lap of the house, the birds had finished singing their daily songs and the mail had already been posted through the letterbox many hours ago.

But you had yet to move.

Your entire body feels burdensome, too hefty to shift like something is forcefully pushing you down and making you double over yourself. Aching joints and shaking hands keep you stuck and you have no energy to fight it. Worst of all your head pounds with a rotten headache, the kind that makes it feel as if your eyes are bugging out.

You have no intention to get up. The back of your throat is dry and the tear tracks on your cheeks are sticky but still you know you won't yet move. Your sense of time was shattered from the moment you surrendered to these bed sheets, to the cushion of your mattress, but even that doesn't help to shake the thought. The thought that this is his bed too. But his side is empty, cold and abandoned. It has been for months.

Two, two months was what you had been told, what he had promised. And you took that promise in good faith, trusted his word and waited for his return. But two months turned into three and three into four, an inexorable march of days lost and hopes dashed. You tried to be patient and give him the benefit of the doubt but the four month mark meant breaking point.

In the grand scheme of things four months isn't much, he's certainly been gone for longer than that, but when it's double the time a promise told fear makes a home in the days elapsed.

After all, anything could have happened. Even one day is many hours of possibilities, ones you would never truly understand but knew enough of to dread. Countless times when he does return he's been in a sorry state so far removed from how he was when the front door closed behind him, and every time you've understood the chance that he may never return to you.

He's never said it, never made it known in words because he's never dared to give the thought tangibility that would stick in your mind. But you know it regardless. He tells it all in the way he says goodbye to you.

His hugs are always tighter when there's an escort outside waiting, his hands bunch up your shirt and he breathes you in deeply as if to make sure he doesn't forget how the linger of your perfume feels when drifting past his nose. With your head on his chest you can feel how his heart leaps a nervous thrum and tells you of his fears in a way he's never tried by tongue, and when he draws away from you his hands are always trembling. But it's his kisses that really make your heart ache.

He mumbles a goodbye when both hands cup your cheeks, often feeling tears beneath the calloused pads of his thumbs as he leans in. His kiss is always soft and slow, apologetic in the way he holds you there for as long as he can without crying himself, though only once he has failed and let them flow. That was the most recent time those four months ago.

Usually a beckon from outside is what forces you to part, else he would have you forever, but before he goes his forehead rests against yours and he gazes at your bleary eyes for as long as you will let him before you shy away. All to make sure you are the last thing he sees before the front door closes and you are left to wait for him once again.

But the wait is agonising, and in your impatience frustration has begun to fester.

It wasn't his fault, though it certainly wasn't yours either, and the lack of a party to blame only made you more restive. The progression of such crushing sadness into anger with no place to take purchase was inevitable and you knew it to be, but not even the thought of that was enough to bring comfort or assuage guilt. You just had to keep yourself busy and wait for it to subside, pray that it would.

The bed creaks when you throw your legs over the edge of it, one socked foot and one bare meeting the carpet as you sigh, sweeping a hand under the sheets to find the missing one. As much as you felt you could lie here forever there was one thing that made you get up day after day, no matter how late it was by the time you got downstairs. It was only a small routine but one that helped you pull the other sock on and finally get to your feet, pushing yourself away from the mattress with your hands on its edge for support.

You grab the keyring from your bedside table and curl it into your fist, head pounding so sharply that you don't even hear the jingle it makes thanks to all of the keychains you've been given from places you've never been to. Finland, Africa, Australia, China, the list goes on.

Slow steps take you out through the bedroom door that sat ajar all night, just in case, past the bathroom and down the stairs. Those same footfalls carry you everyday and you have to be surprised that there isn't an imprint of your steps in the carpet yet.

Then routine begins. There's only one letter on the welcome mat today and another crumbled one stuck half way through the letterbox, forcing it to remain open and letting in a beam of sunlight that flickers up the wall. You grumble at the sight.

With a click of your tongue you retrieve both and check the addressee. Two more for him that will go on the pile next to the coffee machine, the pile that has toppled one too many times and strung thin your dwindling patience.

Letting loose your fist you fumble for the right key, mumbling both a curse and a plea under your breath as you unlock the front door like you do everyday, willing yourself to believe that if the way is clear and ready his return would come sooner. Though it has done nothing for you so far.

But you have to keep at it and unlock the front door through which he left, everyday you promise yourself that you will and so far hadn't missed it once. Because somewhere deep down you naively believe that he will somehow know that it's open, that you're waiting. And if he returns to an unlocked door it shows that you have remembered and been ready everyday, that you've been unwavering in your dedication to him and have been longing for his safe return.

It's just a crushing weight on your heart when you have to lock it again in the evening. Another day alone.

Both letters are carelessly added to the pile as you trudge into the kitchen, keeping the blinds down and allowing only the smallest glow of amber that intrudes between them to light your way.

From the outside most would guess that the house had been left empty, that both you and him had gone away for a while to some place nice and private, a couples getaway. But you have never had the chance to go on one of those. Maybe when he gets back. Maybe when he finally retires, if ever.

The rest of the day blurs together as they all do. Water the plants, eat the same meals, wash the same dishes, and crash on the same sofa. At this point you're glad that there's no you-shaped dent in its cushions from the way you lie. Perhaps you're too restive for one to take, too much tossing about.

The drag that's causing your bones to ache barely subsides throughout the day, like it often doesn't, and as afternoon becomes evening the temptation to give in to the pull of your somnolence is stronger than ever. But, oddly, something begs you not to.

The only reason you move from bed to couch is to be by the door so that you don't forget to lock it when the sun goes down. The hours spent here are of no meaning, hell, the hours you spend doing anything are of no meaning anymore. You're glad you barely remember them, so it's always strange when you get a nagging to break away from your routine lazing.

Typically, now has become the time of day that you'd surrender to a movie or perhaps a shitty television show that has the same plot as many others before it. It's just something to pass the time, in honesty. You've ploughed through plenty by now and know the motions quite well, it's easy on the mind with how it numbs you. Though the mood doesn't strike you now.

Shamefully, getting up from the sofa still takes multiple minutes of contemplating but once you're up you're determined not to go down again until bed. Or rather, you tell yourself that you are, when really it would be very easy to lie back down. But then the idea of a shower crosses your mind and you decide upon it before you have time to think of reasons why not.

After all, fresh pyjamas after a long, warming shower sounds like the exact remedy you need in this moment.

The golden glow of the day has receded as evening creeps in, no longer shining through as you pass the entryway to climb the stairs. You don't even notice it. The passing of time has began to feel like something you're excluded from, stuck in that moment by the front door, always waiting, unsure how to step away.

The mattress calls to you as you get a clean pair of pyjamas out, an old genesis shirt that isn't yours and a pair of shorts that hang loosely on the hips. It'll do. Still it takes effort to head for the bathroom instead of turning to the cradle of the sheets, an unmade bed having never looked so inviting, but once the warm water is freely cascading over you it all becomes worth it.

A deep sigh escapes and feels to drag out your bodies tension with the force of it, purged by the comfort that slowly envelopes you. Steam fogs the glass, suds coat your scalp with lithe fingers working away, and the soft pattering of water on tile drowns out the thrum of your own heartbeat. The clutching unease in your chest doesn't quite shift, anchored soundly in place, but for the first time in a while you feel as if you can actually afford to ignore it for a short time.

Droplets ricochet off the lids of lined up product bottles, a phalanx of soap. Your eyes are drawn to his body wash, the cap that's stayed shut for months, and for the first time you're compelled to reach for it. It opens with a snick and a puff of air on which the scent rides wafts towards your face.

The way the fragrance makes your gut sink begs you to feel regret but still you load your pouf with it and cover yourself in the familiar scent. It's sort of spicy-sweet with the warm woody undertones that have always suited him. You've missed it, despite the bottle sitting right here.

When you're done you continue to stand there for longer than you really should, dreading the cold air beyond the shower door. Moments of reprieve are always brief, forever overshadowed by the thought of what task comes next. But then it strikes you.

Daylight has ceased, you've trudged through yet another repeating day, but your key is still in the door. You realise you forgot to lock it before heading up here and it's that thought that makes you brave the world past the shower's glass.

You would leave it open late, just in case he arrives home at an unreasonable hour of night like he has in yesteryears. But normally when he's here with you he has a penchant for making sure it's locked once darkness falls and certainly makes sure that you do the same. So you try to keep in the habit.

The pyjamas are just as inviting as you had hoped they'd be. The waft of the fabric conditioner you use is pleasant in its subtlety but the familiarity of the freshness is the heart warming embrace you've been missing out on. Especially when paired with the linger of his body wash that now follows you.

Steam explores the hallway as you step out and let it loose, towelling down wet hair while heading for the stairs. The first step creaks like always, something that's never been fixed, but you freeze dead on it and drop your towel as your eyes cast down to the bottom of the staircase.

Your keys, left dangling in the front door lock, jingle as the handle above them is turned and the door wedges open.

It's a shoe first, steel toed and spattered with mud. Weight drops against the wood with a resonant thud and pushes it open, allowing the unending shadow from outside to spill in, partially blocked by the broad shoulder that's leaning there.

A shocked breath hitches high in your throat and jams, choking you on it. Your heart leaps into the back of your mouth and seizes your speech, hammering deafeningly in your head, and if it weren't for how you hold the bannister beside you, you may well have lost your balance.

Two full duffel bags thud to the floor by the shoe rack and free up his aching hands, fingers wrapping around the edge of the door as he finally manages to step inside.

Chris looks exhausted.

Your eyes immediately lock and you can see the dark circles that make his typically ruddy face uncharacteristically gaunt. His lip is busted, his stubble has grown into more of a beard in the way he doesn't like but that you've never minded, and it's sticking up at odd angles in a couple of places like he hasn't cared to look after himself in the time elapsed.

But when he sees you the hardened look in his eyes completely vanishes. The tension that makes his shoulders sore suddenly drops and his whole face softens, winded by the breath of relief that punches out of his chest.

You meet in the middle, having each hurled yourselves towards the other in a mad dash that happens too fast to remember. Chris catches you on the bottom step, your arms hastily thrown over his shoulders and locking tight behind his neck while his eagerly scoop you up with one under your thighs and one belted around your waist.

His hands take purchase like they'd never left, grasping desperately with head nestling in the curve of your neck where you pulse beats wildly beneath his hurried kisses, revelling in the feeling of life thrumming through you.

Your head is spinning off its peg, hands fumbling to tug at the clothes on his back and ball them up like he'll vanish, your longing causing creases in the fabric. Both swallowing down air like you haven't had a single breath of it while apart you wait in a long yet comfortable silence, equally dumbfounded.

"Chris?" your voice wobbles, your eyes tear up, and it only makes him squeeze you tighter in his grasp.

"Mhm?"

"What—"

Socks return to carpet and in a split second his hand, warm and encompassing, is cradling your face to coax you into his kiss. You go easily, arms unwinding from behind him to mimic the same gentle hold, your thumbs resting along the line of coarse beard on his jaw.

It works like a balm.

The sweet affection disentangles the burden of consternation that had made a home with you. You feel lighter, finally relaxing the crease between your brows as you revel in the weight of him in your hands. And the faded cologne that winds its way around you works away the last of the uneasy feeling that had sat with you for so long.

It's barely there, a scent buried beneath all the others that hopped on his back throughout the day. It must've rained on his way in, a not quite petrichor dragging down the vibrancy of the fabric softener on his uniform. But a trace of the cologne survives on his neck, the spiciness fighting for its place. It melts you. And for once even the scent of cigarette smoke that follows him smells good.

Chris pushes further and further into the kiss, nose squashed by the side of yours as he litters a series of hurried pecks against your lips. He smiles wider with each one, a hasty sequence of delicate kisses that elicits a sweet and airy laugh from you. He pulls away as it fans over his cupids bow, keeping his forehead flush to yours.

"Hi." he breathes, face rosy and shaky pupils blown.

"Hi? Is that it?" you giggle, hands sliding from from his jaw to the junction of his neck and shoulder. You feel the muscle tense briefly, a twitch of a flinch before his body remembers how to relax with you. He mimics the mirth, crows feet pulling at the corners of his eyes.

"Missed you." Another kiss, firmer but still sweet. You accept it gladly, deviating to follow a line of them over his ruddy checks, just above bristling beard. The heat that radiates off of him seeps its way into you, the feeling of safety, of home.

"Missed you too." It doesn't feel profound enough, like the words aren't strong enough to truly convey how deeply his absence had been felt. So you just keep kissing him, a generous smattering that would've left him sufficiently stained if you had been wearing lipstick.

"Where have you been?" you hesitate to let go of the words like they'll unleash some kind of unforeseen consequence, like it'll offend or maybe even guilt him out of this buzzing excitement. But Chris just pauses, brows raising and lips sighing.

You watch him search for the words, eyes darting this way and that while he racks his fatigued brain, chapped lips falling ajar when he eventually gives up on piecing together a good enough answer.

He can't verbalise an explanation right now, it's as if he doesn't know how to. Whatever had been occupying his mind was whisked away the second he laid eyes on you, completely cast aside and locked away with all of the other scars on his memory that he begs to forget. He can't recall the details of where he's been, he doesn't know much in this moment, only that he missed you. That remains the only thing he's certain of.

Eventually, he musters something up. "That doesn't matter." his reply comes quiet and laconic. "Can I tell you in the morning?"

You nod ardently.

This often happens, Chris holds on to his answers for a few days while adjusting back into what life should look like, not whatever it has looked like for the past four months. It doesn't bother you, tied in your excitement to get back to your rhythm of life together. Finally, that can start now.

"Of course." you say softly, dropping from your tiptoes to give him a proper hug, your head resting on his chest. The way his arms wrap you up feels like the most natural thing in the world, paired with the way he ducks his head to kiss the top of yours and breathe you in.

"You just showered?" he notices, a kiss pressed to the top of your head regardless of wet hair.

"Mhm." you hum and cosy in closer to him.

"Think I'll go in too, then. Didn't use all the hot water, did you?"

"No. Maybe would've but I forgot my keys in the door, so."

"Ah." he mimics your hum, understanding sounding like a low grumble beneath your ear. "You could always join me if you like, wouldn't have to rush this time." his voice lilts with a hint of that playfulness you've so grieved, velvety and impish.

The heat of bashfulness creeps up your neck, fizzes low in your stomach. "Cheek." you laugh, face warming. "Too bad I've already got my pj's on now."

"Could always take them off?" he's quick with it, his suggestion light but sincere.

In turn, your giggles just keep coming. "Nu-uh. I'll clean up the house quick, make sure you don't see my mess."

"House looks clean to me."

"I haven't made the bed once this whole time, other than when I changed the sheets." you flinch as if having made the admittance too easily, bottom lip catching between your teeth when you realise yourself.

"That's okay, honey." he softens. "I'll do it from now on, yeah?"

There's no shame in it, not like the way you'd convinced yourself there should be. You missed him, what more can be said? It had to manifest itself in some way, make itself visible to him by taking up space in your home. He'd do the shame should your places switch. But now that he's here there's no indignity in letting him remedy what's awry.

"Yeah, okay."

"Come on then, I'll let you get the door."

Chris toes his shoes off while you sort the lock, trying the handle to check it and make sure it's secure. It is. You linger there for a second while he gathers his bags, just letting yourself feel the relief as the thought that you no longer need to unlock this door come morning enters your head. It's a good job done, and you know you'll rest easier with the knowledge that he's finally on the right side of it, at home rather than out there.

"You coming, honey?" his voice leaps over your shoulder in order to reach you, stretching from where he stands with one foot on the bottom step and a bag in each hand. The keyrings jingle as you pull the key from the door, quickly turning on your heel to join him.

"Yeah, just wanted to check it." you utter with a shrug. He hums an acknowledgement and lets you pass so he can follow at your heels, noticing your glances back at him as you climb the stairs. You scoop up your towel from the top step when you reach it, realising you'd lost it in the rush.

"Oh yeah, that reminds me," he starts, nodding at the keys grasped in your hand. "There's another one of those in here somewhere, if you have room on the ring."

The duffel bags thud down by the dresser as Chris starts pilfering through the draws, spoilt for choice when it comes to all the lounge clothes he'd so longed for on overworked evenings. You glance at the bags and again at your keys and the ridiculous amount of charms that hang alongside.

"I'll make room. Thank you."

He stops with a raggedy sleep shirt in hand to lean over and kiss you, all gentle and sweet. "Of course, you know I'd never forget. It's a good job I've yet to find a place lacking in souvenir keychains."

You huff a laugh through your nose and turn to your bedside table. "I almost wish that you would." The clatter when you put them down says it all. Chris' head shoots back up and you see a flash of feigned offence cross his features before he shrugs and emerges triumphant with a pair of pj pants.

"Careful what you wish for, sweetheart." But you've no time for your own retort before he's marching for the bathroom, desperate to be rid of the uniform that signifies far too much that he no longer needs to think about, at least not tonight.

You take the chance to straighten up the room while he freshens up. For the first time in a while it's easy to want to make the bed so it's nice and neat for him to get into, topping it off with a gentle linen spray that you hope he'll appreciate. You don't touch his bags, just to be polite, but you put them aside somewhere where he's far less likely to trip over them. And when your laundry is all sorted away you eagerly wait for the sound of the bathroom door.

Luckily, it comes quite quickly.

The sight of him, his stature filling the doorway with strong arms reaching skyward to stretch, makes your pulse flutter as a blooming heat spreads over you like a wash of goosebumps. The sleep shirt he chose is loose in all places, with a hint of chest hair peeking out of the stretched collar and a glimpse of slight paunch from behind the bottom hem before his arms come back down. Your breath hitches.

There's a pause as he comes back in, groaning when his neck cracks as he rolls it, and you feel suddenly cornered by the bone deep longing you've been so steeped in during his absence. It's somehow increased tenfold now that he's within reach.

It looks as if you're scrutinising him as you sit on the end of the bed, elbows on your knees, chin in your hands, with eyes following his every move. He can feel your gaze, it sets a blaze running down the back of his neck that he quite enjoys. But he doesn't look back, grinning as he realises the buzz in the air and the opportunity to tease.

It will be short lived, what with the desire running hot through the both of you, an ache that begs and clambers to spring into action. But that doesn't mean that there can't be any fun before it wins you over.

"'That better?" you break first, noticing the slightest of water cling left behind on the very ends of his washed hair. Chris' face is flushed from the steam of the shower and it leaves him glowy, skin dewy like he's been revitalised into a man far more familiar to you than the state he arrived home in. He shrugs, sauntering to where you sit until he's right before you, toe tips touching toe tips.

"Yeah, much." his voice comes sonorous in its usual way, though deep in his throat as he speaks low and hushed. He leans over you then, large hands either side of your thighs, knees bending as if to bow, and face level with your own. Instinctively, your hands rise to his jaw. His beard is softer like he's conditioned it and his boyish smile only worsens your heartache.

You fight to keep the rapacious fervour pushed aside as he keens to kiss you, slow and soft and sweet. You hold him there for as long as you can keep it down but the press of his lips paired with the waft of his soap and shampoo makes it difficult, wrapping you up in all you'd missed. You have to pull away first, lips ajar and wet with spit, only to be met with something more like a smirk.

A huff of a laugh fans out from Chris' nose before he speaks. "Let's get some rest, yeah? I think we both need it."

Your stomach drops and he can see it on your face, a niggling of disappointment that you do your best to muscle down. But your nod is curt, your breath swallowed in a gulp.

"Yeah, you're probably right." you concede, sounding rather defeated. His brows quirk up the same way the corners of his mouth do, amused and nonplussed.

He can't help the chuckle that punches out of his chest. It's short, rich, something of a scoff but not mocking, rather the snapping of a cord that whips back at him. Yeah, short lived.

"What?" you utter, bemused and almost nervous as you're left scrambling. Chris tucks his chin and turns away as he giggles, chest rumbling until the sound stops.

"Sorry, that wasn't very nice of me." he regathers himself and clears his throat. He finds you with your brows knitted when his gaze returns to you, your eyes searching his face and mouth slightly open like waiting to make a rebuttal.

Your heart is pushed to race that bit faster but searching his every feature garners no clarity, leaving you gawping at him. But there's comfort in the fact that he still has the heart to joke, that he hadn't faced a low so dreadful that mischief would elude him.

His knee comes up onto the bed beside you, his calloused hand to your jaw. The lean in is slow, tantalising, and you have to lie back to accommodate the bulk of him above you. Your hands stretch behind you to prop yourself up, palms to bedsheets with fingers curling into the fabric, and you melt into the tenderness of it all.

A spark ignites in both of you, blood running hot as the exchange quickly gains barrelling momentum. It's a back and forth, he nips your lip first so you open first, an invitation that signals the end of anything chaste. His kiss is ardent and hasty, low groans spilling with every surge forward he makes, a tease of tongue and smear of spit.

Your head is spinning when he pulls back, your breaths quick and shallow, and the sight of his smug smirk does nothing to help clear the haze.

"'Can't believe you're messing with me already." you grumble sheepishly after a moment, lips curling a half hearted scowl. He knows you don't mean it and kisses the sneer right off of your lips.

"Guilty. Though it's sweet that you thought I meant it."

Chris chuckles to himself and advances further above you, coaxing you to lie completely down to the sheets. Your arms come up to hook over his shoulders and he ducks his head to bury beside your neck, the tip of his nose grazing the line of your pulse and following it up to the soft spot under your ear. The gentle pressure makes you shudder and your head turns instinctively to open yourself up to him.

"Oh shush." you giggle. "How was I supposed to know you're not tired?"

He mouths at your skin, humming a deep rumble that echoes through you. "Oh I am." he huffs.

"But—"

"But I need you more than I need the rest."

He plants a tepid kiss where his mouth hovers before drawing back, levelling you with an adoring gaze like molten honey.

With you he can forget the weight that made him so heavy, something that had been painfully inexorable and a constant in the version of life he had to live without you. But here, in your home, in your bedroom, it's gone quiet. It should be nagging at him like always, a fatigue so stubbornly ingrained that it's part of his physicality, but being by your side dulls it down to nothing more than white noise. Like a fly banging on the downstairs window.

Your heart hammers against your ribs as you meet his eyes, feeling as if pinned to the bed by the look he gives. One hand unwinds from behind his neck to cradle his jaw, fingertips pushing beard in off directions, disturbing the way it lays, as your thumb grazes by the corner of his mouth. He turns to kiss the pad of the digit before pushing past your hold and claiming your lips again.

One of Chris' hands snakes behind your head to lift you and drag you deep into his kiss. Your noses knock, finding their places as faces meet, and the bristle of his beard makes you shiver. But the intensity he meets you with makes your pulse skip.

It's hasty in its own way, not careless, just greedy, with a lingering heartache behind it that makes every press, nip, lick, feel precious. His teeth graze the swell of your bottom lip and again your open for him, barely biting down a whine when you feel his tongue. His fingers curl into your hair where he has you held and the smallest of tugs coaxes the sound out of you, a full and unbidden moan.

The sound earns his smile, a flash of a grin pressed against yours before his focus returns to taking you apart. You push back with just as much zeal, a snowballing kiss that has spit smearing from the corners of mouths and down chins.

But there's a fire inside of you that needs stoking. Each ministration makes it sputter but it begs for more with every breath you take. It's already begun to spread a haze over your mind, addling your thoughts in a cloud of sickly lust that grounds roots with thorns that won't let go quite so easily.

Without a conscious thought you find your legs have spread, one hooking over Chris' hip with the heel of your foot pressing into the small of his back, trying, begging to guide him down. He scoffs a laugh, an amused huff of air into your kiss, and complies.

The weight of him leaning into you sends a bolt of electricity up your spine immediately. His hips come down against yours and your legs are made to spread wider to welcome the size of him, knees coming back towards your chest somewhat for ease. But it's the first roll that makes you break away from the heat of the kiss.

His movements are very intentional in the way they are brisk yet teasing, a balance he has perfect much to your chagrin. But even the leisure with which he moves can't dull the sensation that washes over you when he firmly rolls hips hips into yours. The weight of him, hard and heavy behind the thin fabric of the pyjama pants, grinds against the clothed bump of your cunt and sends rogue sparks bouncing over your skin.

Your outcry can't be helped then, breaking away with a crystalline string of spit connecting your mouths. Chris bites back his own groan in order to better hear yours, holding his breath and only letting it loose when you quiet to a mewl.

"There you go." he rasps a low hum from the base of his throat. It comes out in a long breath much like relief and you can feel the weight of his gaze that's fixed dutifully on you. He's so grateful to be home, but you're not one for basking in the moment.

In your impatience your hands make themselves busy at his sides, pushing up and under the fabric of his baggy shirt. Soft fingertips graze over his abs, subtle lines hidden under paunch, featherlight yet desperate in your haste, lost in the abundance of his body hair. You can feel the way it riles him up, the twitch of his fat cock pressed firm against you, yet he gifts no more than a bite of his lip in response.

Chris is staring down at you as if unsure what to do next, or perhaps just drinking in the gorgeous view he'd so missed. He has you right where he needs you, pliant and pinned beneath him, buzzing with the same salacious desire, and yet he's stock-still.

He's spoilt for choice.

"Chris…" comes your whispered plea, his name rolling dulcet off your tongue. His eyes widen as it reaches him and his next breath comes out low and shuddering, again rolling his hips into you without conscious thought. A gasp hitches for each of you, sweltering warmth radiating from desperate bodies.

With another deep groan he leans back down to you, closing the gap and zeroing in on your neck. The tip of his nose drags along the line of your pulse and breathes in your perfume, the shampoo and fabric softener and his body wash. The realisation makes him smile.

His head is crowded with perversions, possibilities that tingle at the tips of his fingers, ideas he could action into life right at this moment if he so wished. But his composure is dashed. Everything about you, the way you squirm underneath him, the little noises you let out into the stuffy air, the way your hands hurry to his skin and scramble to feel all of him, it addles his mind.

So he follows your lead.

He sits back on his knees, regretfully drawing his hips back, so that both of his big hands can come to your hips. He lingers there for a second, taking greedy handfuls and squeezing the soft give of your body, enraptured by the feeling and the way it makes the heat of arousal roar within him.

Then he starts his path upwards. Calloused hands glide up, up under your clothes in search of tepid skin, rising goosebumps in his wake. You find yourself automatically arching into the touch, back lifting from the sheets as he pushes your shirt upwards, lips hovering by your collar. You wonder if he'd feel the pound of your racing heart if he reached for it with the way it's jumping out of your ribs, maybe he'd even see it.

Thumbs graze the underside of your tits and your head lolls to the side, overwhelmed by a shudder and his reactive chuckle that curls against your neck. Your own hands take purchase on his toned forearms, just holding on as he busies himself with groping you, just finding any way to touch him like it'll anchor you. He hums his appreciation.

"So pretty." Chris croons, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest and the way the intrusion of his touch beneath your clothes makes the fabric bunch up, so nearly giving him the sight he's after. He's gentle at first, trigger-rough fingertips skating around the mounds of your tits, cupping them in large palms, thumbs sweeping over delicate skin. It tantalises you wonderfully, the fire stoked and embers flying.

"More," you utter, your voice becoming pitchy with a wobble of desperation. "Honey, please."

The pads of his thumbs graze pebbled nipples far too softly, a ghost of a touch that makes your heart skip. You can't help but whine.

"Sorry, sweetheart." he hums almost derisively. "'This better?" Between forefinger and thumb he pinches each bud and rolls, sending an electric fizz through you like a power surge. A high moan rips out of your throat and your hips buck sharply, eliciting a groan of his own.

"Yeah, thought so." there's an edge to his voice now, velvet and gravel, thick with want. Again he leans away to get a good look at you, hurriedly pushing your shirt all the way up to the base of your neck, baring your chest to him so he can watch how perfectly you fit in his hands.

He moves slow as he stares, drinking in a sight he's been so deprived of as if having to savour the moment to make up for time elapsed. But Chris can hear your whines loud and clear, see how your breaths get quicker and make the rise and fall of your chest more apparent, nervously ticking over in the seconds he makes you wait. So he spares you the anguish.

His elbows come down beside you, a thump on the mattress, so he can bury his face into your skin and keep his hands right where you want them to be. His kisses are more gentle than his touch, a delicate line down your sternum while both hands pick a pattern of pinching and rubbing. It's not a sharp pinch, more of a languid roll between the pads of his fingers, teasing and stimulating with careful tweaks.

He kneads at your tits in the between moments when he gives your nipples a break, constantly undecided on what to do next. His face hovers just above where his hands work when he pulls back with scintillating spit threaded between his lips and your skin, and you can feel the roll of his hot breaths with every panting exhale. He lingers there for a minute before his mouth gets jealous of his hands and he has to satiate it.

He busies himself at your left, lips barely touching you in his rush to make a path down until he can wrap his lips around your nipple. And it's there that his hunger shines.

It's a gentle suck for a split second until he loses himself in it. The flexed tip of his tongue bullies the pebbled bud, flicking then circling, then sucking between the seam of his lips before circling again. The mess of spit smears quickly, the damp sat warm on your skin and making you squirm. But the sensation is bliss.

It's a bolt down your spine as your back stays arched, settling low in your gut with a molten heat that's thick and sinuous. One of your hands comes to the back of his head and the other to his shoulder, the electric current running through you only growing stronger when your hands are on him and desperately clawing. Whines spill with the peak of each wave, groaning something sweet every time he sucks or pinches, punctuating the high of every spark.

Chris' hands keep busy where his mouth cannot, rolling your nipple between finger and thumb then swapping once he feels he's sufficiently sullied your other tit with his spit. He could stay here all day and you know it, spend countless hours admiring you just like this, but with every other kiss and flick the fire within you grows restive.

Your hips buck and nails curl into his shoulder, each shuddering breath you take turning into something like a complaint rather than the blissful sighs he wants. He pulls back with a wet lip smack, licking his bottom lip of dribble before looking up at you.

"'You okay, angel?" His pupils are blown and eyes glassy, the beautiful brown swallowed by the ink of his pupils as he stares, trying to read you. You nod but your body still aches for something more, something stronger to satiate the flame. And he can see it in the furrow of your brow.

His hands soothe down your sides and he rises up so your faces are level, not suffocatingly close but enough that nothing will get past him. His cologne engulfs you, dampened by sweat, but it still riles you all the same. He kisses at your jaw, just a gentle peck or two, before leaning back so he can meet your gaze.

"Hey, talk to me." Chris' tone is firm but not bossy, and you can hear the want to please laden within. It takes you a second to wade through the fog but when you do you come out with a giggle, hands cupping his face and thumbs sweeping over groomed beard.

"Sorry, sweet." You shake your head and laugh something airy through your nose. "Just getting impatient."

His brows raise and drop in quick succession, a matching lighthearted laugh rumbling out of his chest with lips tugging into a handsome grin. He tucks his chin with the force of the mirth, gazing down your body before lifting again and finding your adoring stare.

"I should've known." he muses, again ducking in quick to kiss at the line of your jaw. "'Can't keep you waiting, can I?"

Still you titter, hands roving down his neck to his shoulders, then to his biceps where you squeeze. "I'd certainly prefer it if you didn't."

"What'll it be then, sweetheart? What do you need?" he grunts against your skin.

You hum, feigning thought, as your fingers dance back up to the hems of his shirt sleeves. You tug at the offending material and your lips push into a pout.

"First of all, this can go." you grumble, looking him up and down like trying to stare through the fabric. Chris huffs another curt laugh and sits back on his knees once more, hands reaching behind his head to grab the nape of the shirt and pull it off that way. He makes quick work of balling it up and throwing it aside, where it hits the wall and promptly crumples to the floor.

"Better?" he smirks.

You hurry to chase him, palms urgently pushing you to sit up as your own shirt falls back down, eyes level with his navel as he kneels above you. The sight of him makes your head spin.

Toned muscle, littered scars, love handles made more obvious by the band of his pants, a wall of body hair only interrupted by the aforementioned scars that stop its growth in odd places. You can feel the drool welling on your tongue.

And, of course, the obvious bulge beneath worn pyjamas that you can't help but reach for.

"Much better." You smile, one hand wandering up his stomach while the other gently palms his erection. A stuttering gasp punches out of his throat and his hands come down to your shoulders, carefully taking purchase while you dote on him.

"Oh fuck." he groans under his breath, head falling forward and eyelids fluttering shut involuntarily. You're greedy with your touch, fingers feeling for the outline of his hard cock, rubbing and gently squeezing just to feel him twitch behind the fabric. The pad of your thumb rolls over the head, feeling the damp of pre-cum seep through the material as the attention makes him leak.

"Sweetheart—" Sparing a look up at him you find his cheeks rouged and lips parted, jaw tense and thick brows knitted in the middle. You hum an acknowledgement and continue your ministrations, one hand occupied in teasing him and the other lost in wandering up his chest.

Until he grabs your wrist.

"Angel." his voice wobbles as he clears his throat. "I can't wait much longer. Do you want to lie down for me?"

The edge to his voice, the cadence of his breaths, it makes you mind foggy as you can hear and feel the desperation behind every word. There's no doubt that he'd fall apart if you kept touching him like this, you've got him in a state so deprived that it's no been no easy feat for him to feign composure this whole time, when in reality he's aching just as badly as you.

Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as you bite down to stifle a love sick whine, taking in the sight of him, hirsute and burly, and giving his cock one last rougher palm before you lean back. But first you duck, hands on his muscular thighs, and kiss the wet patch where his tip sits with a long, lingering press of spit slick lips.

Chris throws his head back with an unbidden moan as you follow his suggestion with great alacrity, shuffling to the top of the bed. But before you lie back you hastily tug your shirt off, absolutely suffocating under the fabric, and chuck it in the approximate direction that his had went. Your hands come down to your shorts to make quick work of them too, but as you grab the waistband Chris' hands cover your own and stop you still.

"Uh-uh." he tsks, eyes dark when you meet his gaze. "Let me."

Deft, thick fingers curl around the band, the warmth of his skin pressed against your hips before he pulls the offending article away, slowly sliding the shorts down your legs until he can hook them off your ankles and cast them aside. His stare is heavy as soon as they're gone, eyes ravishing you as he positions himself above you.

"No underwear, hm?" his voice falls thick, magnetic with its allure and the way the sound sends a shiver rolling over you. Large hands push your knees apart, rolling around and up your thighs as they spread to welcome him and he eagerly fills the space. There's a heavy pause as you nod.

"Oh, sweetheart. It's like you knew I'd be home tonight."

You barely have a second before he captures your mouth in a bruising kiss, grunting as he claims your bottom lip, teeth grazing with the heat of the exchange. Your lips part unthinkingly to make way for him, swallowing every groan he lets spill and sucking gently at his top lip. It makes impatience bloom once more, spurring whines from your tongue as something hot cries out from within.

Shaky hands fly to his face as if to steady yourself, or even to steady him, and the warmth emanating from his ruddy cheeks makes you shudder. Chris is burning up the same as yourself, chest aching with the want that dictates every move and elicits every lascivious noise, a blinding desire that's all encompassing.

He starts to roll his hips into yours with little rhythm or shyness, smearing your arousal all down the front of his pyjama pants without a care. The friction makes you keen, meeting his every thrust with an equally enthusiastic buck of your hips. Again your hands slide down to his shoulders, fingers curling against flesh, but this time you push back at him.

He responds immediately, breaking the kiss and leaning back just enough to get a good look at you. There's concern there for a second until he sees the state of you, all riled up with a glint in your eye that begs for more.

"Chris," you whine. "Hurry up, please."

He can't help but smile, eyes pushed to squint with the force of it. He huffs a chuckle that curls against your spit sullied cupid's bow and nods.

"Right, sorry angel." he clears his throat.

With a quick shuffle he repositions himself, pushing your leg back so he can sneak past and lie on his side next to you, his elbow beside your head as he holds himself up and other hand coming to rest on your stomach. He's still suffocatingly close, your leg now propped up over his own, awkwardly half slung over his thigh at this angle.

"Wha—"

"Still got to get you ready, don't we?"

The skin of his palm is tough, roughened by service, and you can feel the callous on the heel of his hand as he slowly caresses down your body. His touch skips over your navel, fingers splayed and reaching downward, further and further still until he's at the bump of your cunt.

You shudder deeply, head lolling to the side to gaze at him with one hand reaching for his bicep as your turn your body toward him just a fraction. You can't find words, they elude you, you just sit ticking over with a lump in your throat in painful anticipation of his touch, biting your bottom lip and staring intently at the greed lurking in his deep brown eyes.

When his two middle fingers come together to finally draw a line up your cunt, spreading gathered arousal with a lewd slick, it lights a fuse within you. Again you arch toward him, fingers curling and nails biting crescents into his muscle. The moan of his name that falls from your tongue makes him blush, heart racing as he turns to you and noses at your temple.

"I know, sweetheart." he croons, his timbre mellow and lovesick. "It's been so long, hasn't it?"

"Too long." you retort, sighing a long breath of relief that settles into a quiet moan behind closed lips. He hums an 'mhm' and you feel his nod, going quiet as he gets engrossed in touching you just right.

Thick, lithe fingers spread you open, smearing the wetness he finds to thoroughly coat the digits. The relief is a wave over your body, a steady heat that bristles head to toe and curls zealously in your gut, the fire alive and roaring. And he's barely getting started.

The pad of his middle finger circles your dripping hole, coaxing you to clench and earning an amused sound from him.

"Hold on." Chris grumbles, continuing to tease and rub, just barely grazing your clit as he passes by. He finds each erogenous spot, your sensitivity high with your anticipation, before returning to your waiting entrance. He does a couple more circles, bordering on cruel with how soft his touch is, before you curl your fingers further into his bicep so your nails bite, spurring him on.

"Okay, okay. I hear you."

The pad of his middle finger presses gingerly and sinks inside to the first knuckle. You suck in a hiss through gritted teeth and your hips jolt, unruly and automatic, but you settle back down to the sheets as he continues to slowly push the digit further.

"Fuck, yes." The relief is something like a hot fizz that relaxes the tenseness you'd unknowingly held in your muscles, the start of something heavenly that gets the ball rolling. You grind down into his hand to chase the sensation and earn a matching curse from him as well, chesty and low.

"There you go." his voice is hushed, like he's worried he'll speak over you and miss one of the little moans he so loves. "Good girl."

A deep shiver rolls over you and Chris steadily starts to pump his finger in and out, leisurely and shallow to start. He wants to give you time, to keep his head on straight as best he can and prep you now so the evening can drag on for far longer once he has you ready. But you don't need you shallow, you don't need slow, and your impatient chasing only gets more adamant with each thrust in.

"Chris…" you complain, bucking down to try and meet his movements and force his touch deeper, aching to reach the spot where you need his attention the most. He almost seems surprised, a choked breath coming from beside you as his brows raise, but he's quick to take it in his stride.

"'That bad, hm?" He kisses your temple softly, shuffling himself closer still so you can feel the warmth of his body. You can only nod.

The sound you make is downright pitiful when he pulls his finger out, significantly soaked and glistening in the low light. But it's only so ring can join middle and once again draw those painstaking circles, enthralled by the way you tremble and clench so responsively.

This time when he pushes inside he finds some of the resistance he expected, it has been a while, after all. But you pay it no mind, rocking into the movement to encourage his thick fingers deeper still.

Your next moan is a lot more gratified, enjoying the pleasant and subtle stretch that comes with the additional finger. It's much more like what you were searching for, something that makes your mind foggy in a way you'll gladly lose yourself to. And he seems just as gratified by your reactions.

He doesn't bother with the slow build this time, having got your message loud and clear. It's intentional, not rough, building a satisfying pace with the thrust of his fingers and keeping them crooked at the knuckle to seek out that sweet spot you'd tried to push him toward. But he doesn't go for it immediately.

He's conscious to let you adjust, making sure you enjoy the stretch before you're settled and getting impatient with him again. And he too revels in the feeling.

The way you squeeze around him, dripping on his knuckles already, it makes the back of his mouth run dry and he can't help but stare down at where he has you held in place, beginning to hear muffled, wet noises echo from where his fingers disappear. His heart is hammering madly and he's made dizzy by the infatuation that blooms in his chest, the same sense of urgency that's ruling you beginning to boil over in himself.

When your breathy moans thin down into something more like mewls again Chris knows you need more. He bears forward like seeking better leverage and the pumping of his fingers gains pace. It works like a power surge sent shooting up your spine, making you bow towards him and subconsciously spread your legs as far as they'll allow.

"Oh god." Your head thumps back to the pillows and your eyes flutter shut, your hips lifted with the exaggerated arch of your back like hunting his every move. Your body begs when your words don't and he yields to every small tell, never once faltering, never shying.

With the next push in Chris crooks his fingers stronger, zeroing in on the soft spot that he knows will make stars dance at the edge of your vision. And the reaction that you give makes his cock twitch largely, almost sore from waiting.

His name tears out of your throat, pitchy and breaking with the next moan that follows, wrapping into one lewd outcry that's everything he wants and more.

He grunts and his jaw sets tense, gritting his teeth with his focus. The small adjustment to the angle of his hand is everything and allows the heel of his palm to graze your clit with every inward press, making your legs seem to jolt with the pleasure it brings. But the second it happens he spots it and can't help but croon.

"Oh, angel." If you didn't know any better you would think it's derisive, what with the thickness of his voice and the gravelly drawl it drops to. "Right there, yeah?"

Your answer comes as nails dragging down his arm, clinging on for stability. "Please—"

Chris' pace stays steady but his determination doubles, making sure to strike at the exact same angle with every thrust, and ensure that heel of his palm maintains brisk contact with your clit. He doesn't withdraw completely, keeping his fingers sat deep and continuing that pulsing ministration so that he doesn't break away from your sensitive bud.

It has you hurtling towards the heavens at an alarming rate.

The fire behind your navel had reached its brightest glow, spitting sparks that are the goosebumps all down your arms. You were losing yourself to it, at its mercy as something coiled hot and low, pulling taut and tighter still as every perfect caress sent you further toward bliss.

You barely hear his groan begging for it before the white hot pleasure rocks you.

His name comes like a scream from the back of your throat, drowned in a moan that's shaking before it even reaches air. Your legs jolt back beyond your control and the arch of your back takes you high off the sheets, forcing Chris to chase to see you through your oneiric high. It's an immediate mess on his hands, a sticky dribble over his bruised knuckles that smears along the crease of your leg.

Through the ringing in your ears you can begin to hear his praises as you come down, letting your body slump as you remember how to move it. His hand has gone still but not withdrawn, just comfortable while you find your way back to him. It takes effort to turn your head in his direction, to blink away the blotches in your vision and bring his handsome face into focus.

His smile is infectious. Ear to ear and giddy, almost inappropriately so for the situation. But you can't help but mimic it, feeling your cheeks almost go sore with the beam that breaks across your face.

"There you are." Chris hums, slowly pulling his fingers out of your sullied hole. You mewl at the loss, feeling the cold air hit you where his hand had covered the bump of your cunt, but it's only fleeting.

"Mhm." you utter. "Fuck, that was so good."

His next hum comes muffled and drawn out, and when you turn to him he's got the slick coated fingers sat snug on his tongue with lips closed around the knuckle. The sight makes a startling bashfulness creep up the back of your neck, forcing a breathy sound of surprise from you that morphs into a disbelieving scoff when he lewdly sucks them clean with a purposefully loud, and wet, lip smack.

"Yeah? 'Bet you missed that, didn't you?" The smugness is all over him now, bravado revived to its usual intensity. You roll your eyes and bat at his arm, a half hearted smack.

"Duh. 'Thought that was obvious by now."

"Oh, it is." With a huff he's moving again, reaching over to his bedside table and rummaging around in the top drawer. He emerges triumphant with a small bottle of lube you know well. "So it's a good job we're not done yet, isn't it?"

"Absolutely."

A buzzing kind of excitement sits in your chest as you readjust yourself, lying back to the pillows and watching as Chris quickly stands from the bed. Despite your heavy stare he doesn't make a show of finally stripping his pyjama pants, if anything his haste makes it a bit of a fumble as hes desperate to pull the article down and step out of the fabric.

But the sight of him, god, the sight of him.

As he stands at the end of the bed, tall, broad, all bulk with soft cushioning, the way your pulse races is overwhelming. You're sure your eyes are wide and unabashedly so, drinking in the image of him that you had been starved of for far too long. Your gaze follows his body hair down, from where it starts straggly at his collarbones to the thick woodland on his torso, all the way down to where it slightly narrows to lead to the tighter curls above his thick cock.

A pearl of pre shines pretty on the head, smeared when he pumps himself a couple of times before climbing back over you. The mattress creaks with the heft of him and he kneels between your spread legs, your thighs resting over top of his own, keeping you open.

"I can feel you staring, you know?" The lube bottle is back in his hand and opens with a distinct tch.

"Don't act like you don't enjoy the attention." you fire back, not failing to notice his smirk that admits all you need to know, or already knew.

"Mhm." You watch as he lubes himself up, generous with it, and a cold rivulet drips on the inside of your thigh. It makes you squirm, a sudden shudder that has him scoffing a laugh through his nose. Chris gathers the drop on the trigger-rough pad of his finger and smears it over your entrance, earning a stronger, larger shudder.

"Hn— Hurry up."

"How many times are you going to say that?" A louder chuckle, bemused.

"As many as I have to— Ah!"

Without warning he smacks his cock-head against your puffy clit, a brisk jolt of contact that makes you keen. It only drags out his amusement.

You feel dwarfed when he begins to run his fat tip up and down your cunt, smearing arousal and lube, the beginning of the mess you'll make together. Your hips jump unthinkingly as he does, chasing the weight of him, thick and heavy and aching, and yet he draws out your torment.

"Chris…"

"'Hurry up.' I know."

Finally he finds some urgency, lining up with your hole and barely bringing his hips forward, just enough to tease you with the anticipated stretch from his tip. It's not quite a thrust, rather he's simply taunting you with the slightest pressure, not yet letting it slip in.

You groan your complaint and try to bite your tongue, fully aware of the attitude laced into his every word and movement.

And it pays off.

When he sees that he's no longer getting a rise out of you, that your whinging has come to its close, Chris finally guides his cock to push inside your waiting cunt.

"Fuck—" It's a slow rock forward, made easy by the lube, that makes your next breath catch in the back of your throat, held bated as he thrusts slowly, really letting you get a feel for the stretch that comes with the impressive girth of him.

"There you go." his voice rattles with a shaky exhale, trying to muscle down the overwhelm that hits him with the sensation of feeling you at long last. It'll be a wonder if he manages to keep his head on straight, to not pummel you into this mattress with his hips.

The sensation bounces up your spine when he bottoms out. It's a spark of electricity, hot and fizzing through you in a steady spread. The stretch isn't unkind, it doesn't sting but it's all encompassing, the feeling of fullness after months of deprivation.

Chris leans down while you settle, resting on fists either side of your body, and watches you gaze blankly at the ceiling like you'll find the stars dancing there. But they're all in your eyes.

"Take your time." comes his laconic, velvet encouragements. God knows he needs it too or he'll blow his load within a couple of minutes.

But you don't care to wait, voice stronger with your plea. "Move."

He seems to hesitate for a split second, having assumed you'd need a moment to adjust. But when the command clicks in his head he's rushing to fulfil it.

His withdraw is gradual, almost regretful, until he returns with a sharp thrust that rocks the bed frame. It pushes a screaming moan from your throat and you scramble to grab hold of him, again finding purchase on his biceps as he has you completely caged underneath him. His own moan is throaty and rumbles into the air, it dizzies your mind like something heady.

"Yes." you utter, clawing at him already. "Oh, god."

It only takes a moment for him to build a rhythm, a perfect piston of his hips that's just harsh enough to stoke your ardent flames. Your pulse flutters, your heart races, the thrill is all encompassing and it's everything you needed, you're not even aware of every noise you let slip as you get wrapped up in the heat of it all.

"Oh fuck." he groans, gritting his teeth with the force of the pleasure that drives the drilling of his thrusts. You're gripping him so tight, wet warmth pulling him back every time he tries to withdraw, making the drag of every thrust that much more tantalising. And the sight of you, god.

Chris had missed every single detail about you. The sweet sound of your voice, the weight of your touch whenever you reached for him, just to be near you is enough for him. But this is in a league of its own.

You're pliant beneath him, so beautiful and unabashedly his, crying out for everything he provides you. The glassy, far-away look in your eyes that occasionally clears to find him for a split second makes his heart leap. The expanse of skin and your gorgeous figure overwhelms him with greed, making him pick up the pace without conscious thought. But it's the look on your face that makes him burn up.

"So pretty." he grunts, bearing down on his elbows, face looming above your own. "You're so pretty, angel."

You try to shy away but you can't, pinned by the bulk of his body. What should've been a giggle becomes another moan as he keeps his unrelenting pace, and you have to blink away the haze over your vision to see him. You manage a dopey, blissed-out smile.

"Yeah?" your voice is pitchy but still honeyed and it hits him right where it counts. "So are you, honey."

He tsks, not mean, just nonplussed. "Me?" he retorts. "Aw. You're so sweet, angel."

"I—"

Your reply is stolen by his kiss, knocking into you with some force but you match his zeal with ease. You can't stem your cries even now, spilling one into his mouth every so often when he gives a particularly delicious drill, and he returns the favour just the same. It's spitty and messy and you're each too deep in the haze to care, smiling all the while.

As you're distracted in the thrall of the kiss Chris seizes the moment and adjusts your position. His hips slow so he can slide his hand up the back of your thigh and wedge it in the pit of your knee, pushing you back, knee knocking chest, and hook the leg over his shoulder. You break away as he does, gazing down your bodies, about to question him when he strikes again.

This time, with the next slick stroke in, his cock-head perfectly pounds against that spongy spot inside you and in turn knocks the wind out of your chest.

Your outcry is chesty and poorly held together, lips just barely forming his name as he focuses his efforts there, making sure to strike with every forward surge. It makes you frantic, fervid bliss forming that boiling, spitting pool of lust that sits low in your gut.

"Chris!" you mewl, digging your nails into his skin once more and dragging down his arm, leaving angry trails of red. The other hand, forced to release him in his adjustment, finds leverage on his chest, fingers splayed and palm resting right where his heart hammers.

"Sweetheart." Sweat runs rivulets down his temple, burning up with the same fire. His grip on your leg is heavy handed and his pistoning pace is unabating, the driving force that is pushing you towards the edge once again.

It comes on quick with the new angle, the hissing coil behind your navel, the tenseness you know well that begins a quivering in your thighs. You stammer to try to tell him, lips desperate to form the words but they just don't come. Luckily, he knows this look on your far too well.

Your hands slide away from him as he sits back on his knees, your hips lifting from the sheets to keep in line with his thrusts. His grip on your leg stays steadfast while the other hand finds your sullied cunt, slipping between your bodies in search of your aching clit. He finds it with ease, of course he does, and his fingers spread over your lower stomach as his thumb keeps busy abusing the throbbing pearl.

Your body lurches, arched impossibly high from the sheets as your fists scramble to grab at them, needing anything to ground yourself now that Chris is out of reach.

"Come on." he coaxes, his words weighted with an alluringly dark edge. "I can feel it. I know you want to. Give it to me, angel."

"Chris—" you gasp, your head tipped back and eyes screwed shut with the pull of the shock waves. It's mounting, spiralling fast in a way you can't control, legs trembling and chest heaving, just waiting for it to hit.

"Fuck. That's it."

The crash is like a tidal wave.

The tension that had been brewing snaps and sets liquid fire loose all through your body. It seeps out from the catalyst in your gut, heat climbing through your veins until you were fully drowned in it, gasping down moans of breaths that did nothing to abate the bliss. Your legs thrash so hard that Chris nearly loses his grip on you, but he doesn't mind the hunt. His own moan is just as powerful, straining as you squeeze around him.

The gush is obscene, spilling out all over him and dribbling down your cunt to your ass. You can hear the way it drenches you both, his thrusts, never slowing, echoing with downright pornographically wet sounds.

"Yes." he groans sharply. "Oh my god, angel. You're so tight. So good."

It's the praise that brings you back around, barely holding your head up to see him. His jaw is clenched again and eyes fighting to stay open once his sentence ends, the vein in his neck standing proud with the mounting tension that's commanding him and gathering in his body. He's barrelling towards his high, too.

"Chris," you muster with a meek voice. "Give it to me, please."

Your dulcet begging hits him right in the gut and you can see him struggling to hold on, desperate to drag it out for a few more thrusts, unwilling to pull out of the warmth of you just yet. But his hips are starting to stutter, his rhythm grows sloppy, and the rise and fall of his chest is as fast as machine gun fire as he pants.

"Inside?" he stammers, a hiss through his teeth.

"Inside."

Chris nods frantically, his grip on you becoming tight enough to bruise. You don't let your eyes leave him for even a second as it hits him, refusing to miss a single thing.

His head snaps back in a sharp throw and he tugs your body with him, pulling your hips down onto his cock, burying as deep as possible and holding you there with no room to squirm. The guttural moan from low in this throat seems to shake the room and you can't help but echo it when you feel his release.

His cock jerks inside of you, coming undone in long pulses, spilling ropes that coat and fill you thoroughly. The sensation like that of overstimulation makes you shiver and he drops your leg from his shoulder, hunching over you with the force of his orgasm that makes him double over, barely holding himself up above you as his arms shake.

Your hands find his face immediately, always gravitating like they belong there, thumbs sweeping soothingly over his cheeks. He surges into the touch, lips wet and mouth hung open, eyes heavily lidded as aftershocks keep him shuddering.

"'You still there?" you giggle, equally as hazy. Chris clicks his tongue against his teeth, slowly coming down, and nods in your delicate hold.

"Just about. How 'you doing, sweetheart?"

You rise to kiss him, pulling yourself up to him for a chaste, tender peck. He reciprocates with the same softness, both basking in the afterglow.

"I'm good. Great, actually." your words whisper over his lips, a tickle on the cupids bow, and he steals another kiss before sitting himself up again. His laugh is short and curt.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good girl."

Bashful, adoring warmth seats itself in your chest. The satisfaction makes you glowy, smile never ceasing as you lay peacefully in the bliss. You're only interrupted when Chris draws back and pulls his soft cock out of you.

You wince, whining for the loss and the sudden awareness of the mess between your thighs. Your cunt is drooling. A glistening sheen of arousal is spread all over and your poor, bullied hole leaks heavy rivulets of his cum.

"Oh, fuck." He stares, large hands on the inside of your thighs so you can't close him out. "Look at that."

You grumble and shimmy your hips, only encouraging the spill to continue. The mess feels impossible, keeping you trapped where you are, and you dread to think of what the sheets look like.

"Chris." You extend a hand to him. "Shit." He carefully laces your fingers together and brings your joined hands to rest on your stomach, his thumb soothingly sweeping over your knuckles.

"I uh, think we got a bit carried away." he utters, as sheepish as his smile.

"So much for being tired." you quip.

"Mhm. Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

"Please."

You expect him to rise from the sheets, to scraper off and go get some kind of rag, probably some fresh clothes too. But he doesn't.

Chris shuffles down the bed, the bulk of him making it creak again, until he has enough room to lay himself on his front and level his face with your sullied cunt. Your breath hitches as you watch him, pliant as he hooks your legs over his shoulders with hands resting on your waist.

"Chris—"

"Is this okay?" His eyes, blown and shaky, flicker to you, gleaming and begging with just a look alone. You sigh a grin, smitten.

"Go on, then. Greedy."

His smile is big and dopey before he dives in. He's careful, very aware of your current sensitivity, and just gently licks at your weeping entrance with the flat of his tongue. The shock bounces up your skin, near overwhelming after all that has unfolded, but you let him press on.

Your hand cards into his short hair, neither pushing or pulling him, just holding on as he licks at the mess of you. But the groan he lets out vibrates against you and you can't help but let out a high, strained moan. He apologises with further, cautiously delicate kisses, but he so wants to get lost in the taste of you.

The lewdness of it makes you feel red hot and his next move comes more like a slurp, 'cleaning' up the sticky mess that just ends up down his face rather than down your cunt. It's mostly you, having gushed for him so excessively and wholeheartedly, but he doesn't mind the mix of his own spend that leaks from you.

Your legs are quivering again in no time, at the mercy of every kiss, suck, and lick. It's still oneiric but it's frantic, not the steady current of electricity it was before. No, this sparks and stammers and makes your tummy twist. Regretfully, it's just a little bit too much.

"Chris, sweet." your voice rattles, meekly begging. "Enough. Please, I— I can't take it."

His eyes flick up, wide and starry, and he withdraws immediately, leaving with one more tender kiss against your fluttering hole. Chris wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, gathering himself and nodding his understanding.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Sorry, shit, you okay?"

He's back above you in an instant, one hand, luckily not the spitty one, cradling your face while the other supports his weight. You beam and lay your own hand over the top of his own. His touch is tepid as always and works like a balm on your impossibly burning face, so you hold him there for a long moment.

"Yes, yes. Just too sensitive, sorry, honey." You can barely keep your eyes open now, fatigue seeping in bone deep, begging to pull you under and into the embrace of sleep.

"Don't be sorry, please. How about we actually get cleaned up then, yeah?" his voice is sweet and honeyed, sonorous and ringing in your ears.

You groan petulantly. "I don't think I have the energy."

He scoffs lightheartedly and you have to be grateful that his patience is unending. "Too bad, we can't stay like this, especially not you."

"Why not?"

"Sweetheart, you're soaked and so are the sheets. Come on."

One of his strong hands anchors behind your back, wedging between your skin and the mattress, and begins to lift you from the sheets. You go easily into his arms, your own winding around his shoulders as he has you half in his lap, and he guides your legs around his waist so he can stand.

You feel like jelly as he hauls you up, desperately clinging to him as it hits you that your own legs might not hold you right now if they had to. But you can tell Chris is feeling it too. Every move he makes is lethargic and he does his best to pull away the ruined top sheet so he can put you back down on the edge of the bed, asking you to wait there a moment as if you'd dare to try to stand.

His steps are far slower than usual as he heads for the bathroom, very cautious on his way, and you flop back to the blanket while you wait. You'll get a new sheet in the morning, he can keep you warm tonight. The thought makes you giddy.

You don't feel the time passing before he comes back, a glass of water in one hand and a flannel in the other. His knee knocks against your own to get your attention and you squint one eye open, finding him towering over you. He's put some boxers briefs on too.

"Here, honey." He coaxes the glass into your hand, dropping his fingers to the bottom of it like helping you tip it, making sure you take a good swig. You nod your thanks, realising just how much you needed it the second the water hits your tongue. It clears the haze somewhat and brings you back into your own head, still tired but not quite knocked down like you were.

His knees click as he kneels in front of you and you just about catch his wince, stifling a laugh and setting the glass down on your bedside table. The flannel is slightly damp and pleasantly warm as he wipes up the inside of your thighs, gentle, slow sweeps to mop you up. He gets your legs first then addresses your cunt with extra care, wiping up the copious mess with a couple of passes. You can't help the unbidden whines that spill as you're reminded of your sensitivity, doing your best to ignore it until he's done.

"Sorry." he says sheepishly. "There we go, that'll do. We can share a shower in the morning, yeah?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice." you smile as you remember his earlier offer for the same thing, though the context is now totally flipped.

"Good. Arms up."

Next thing you know Chris is guiding a shirt on over your head. It's obviously one of his own, it smells like him and it's in his size, and it's wondrously soft as it drapes over your tepid skin. You cosy into it, humming with satisfaction.

Pants come next but these are your own, of course. He guides them on over your ankles and pulls them up as high as he can before you take over to get them over your hips, lifting your ass from the mattress to get it done.

"Can I sleep now?" you ask without a second of hesitation, practically half asleep already.

"I think you mean we." he retorts, walking around to his side of the bed. He turns the amber-hued lamp off on his way, plunging the room into darkness. "And yes, yes we can."

"Thank god." You practically throw yourself at him, meeting in the middle of the mattress as you invade his side and he invades yours.

He helps you throw a leg over his stomach and guide you so you're half lying on him, chest to chest, not leaving any breathing room between you, and his strong arms wrap around your waist. His hands clasp tight in the small of your back and lock you in like a belt. Your head nestles into the junction of his neck and shoulder, breathing in the sweat and smokiness that always lingers, and all of the tension of your body, the last dregs, are gone for good.

This is how it's supposed to be. The mattress sunken by the weight of two people, the blanket poorly shared between you both, both pillows occupied and both bodies clinging together. You'd almost forgotten what it felt like, so absorbed in his absence, so used to a ghost on his side of the bed.

"I missed you so much." you utter, admittance barely above a whisper, and scatter chaste kisses over his bare skin. You feel his answering hum thrumming beneath you.

One hand slips beneath his shirt you wear and sweeps up and down your back in big, soothing motions, lulling you into the rest you both so badly need.

"I missed you too, sweetheart." his tone comes thick and sleepy, already mused by the fatigue. "I'm so happy to be home."

"I'm so happy you're home, too."

The silence that falls is comfortable and warm, full hearts and tired bodies, tangled up where you'll surely stay all night long. Your head is heavy and your eyelids even more so when they finally close, pulse slowing into a sleepy beat as you drift off. But just before the cradle of sleep gets you, you hear Chris drop off first, already snoring like a lawnmower.

You can't help your sleepy giggle. "Goodnight, honey."

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