Can you hear me through the white noise?

Frustrated, you squeezed your eyes shut and pleaded with yourself. Please, please, please. Just go to sleep. You’d been trying for what felt like hours at this point, your body was exhausted but your just mind refused to listen to you- and every time you felt like you might just drift off, you seemed to catch yourself and suddenly you were wide awake again. 

Eventually, you rolled on to your back, stared up at the ceiling, and let out the smallest sigh, not wanting to wake Noah up.

“...Baby?”

You suddenly froze, scared that your constant tossing and turning had woken him up. 

“Sorry.” You whispered. 

“You don’t have to apologise,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep. Then he moved beside you, until he was facing you in the darkness. “You’ve been awake for hours, haven’t you?”

“Did I wake you up?” You asked, suddenly turning towards him. 

“I don’t think I’ve actually been asleep,” he answered, his hand sliding across and finding yours beneath the sheets. “Not properly. I’ve just been listening to you tossing around.” 

You tried to smile.

“Sorry.” 

“Oh no, don’t apologise, sweetheart.” He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb, then he asked very softly, “Is everything okay?”

You opened your mouth to say answer, to say yes or just brush it off… but instead, your bottom lip wobbled. 

“Oh…” Noah whispered, then you pressed your lips together and he added gently, “Oh, no…”  

Before you even realised what was happening, tears began rolling down your cheeks, then you turned your face away, and let out a nervous, frustrated laugh. 

“Oh, for gods sake…” You wiped your cheeks “I’m sorry… I don’t know why I’m getting like this.”

Noah sat upright, the sheets rustling as he pushed himself up. 

“Hey.” He reached for you gently. “Come here.”

You shook your head. 

“No, it’s stupid… I’m fine.”

“I don’t care.”

“Noah-“

“Baby.” His voice was so gentle and soft. “Come here.”

The second he opened his arms, you leaned into them. He held you tight against his bare chest, with one arm around your shoulders, the other around your waist. You felt yourself melt into him. His skin was so comfortingly warm, and you could hear the slow and steady beating of his heart beneath your ear.

Thump.. Thump.. Thump..

It was strangely calming, along with the lingering smell of cologne on his skin, mixed with the clean smell of soap from his shower before bed. He then pressed a gentle kiss against the top of your forehead, before carefully asking,

“What happened?”

You sniffled.

“I…” Another tiny, frustrated laugh escaped you through your tears. “I just can’t sleep. And I haven’t been able to properly for…” you sniffed again, “…three nights now.”

His hand slowly stroked up and down your back, and he frowned as you continued. 

“When I do fall asleep… I wake up again after an hour or two.” You rubbed at your eyes. “And then in the mornings I wake up with headaches because I’m so tired.” You nuzzled in closer, burying your face in his chest. “I’m just so frustrated.” You added quietly, and his heart ached. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” He held you a little tighter. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want to make a fuss.”

“But if it’s something that’s been bothering you, you should’ve said something.” He said, pressing a kiss to your hair.

You just stayed like this for a moment, listening to the soft beat of his heart, until he spoke again a moment later. 

“Can I ask you something?”

You nodded against his chest.

“Are you hungry?”

“What?” You asked. 

He smiled into your hair.

“Sometimes when I can’t sleep, it’s because I haven’t eaten enough.” He brushed a thumb gently over your shoulder. “If you’re hungry we can go downstairs, I’ll make you some toast or cereal or… anything you want.”

“At three in the morning?” You asked with a little laugh. 

“I don’t see what the problem is.” 

You smiled despite yourself, and before you could say anything else, he asked,

“Or do you think you’re thirsty? I could get you some water, hot chocolate, or tea? I’ve got a chamomile one that’s good for helping you sleep.” 

You shook your head.

“I think I’m okay.”

“Okay.” He said simply, before going on to ask, “Is there anything on your mind that’s keeping you awake?”

You thought about it.

“…Not really.”

“Not work?”

You shook your head.

“No, I think my brain just won’t switch off.” You sighed, “I feel exhausted, but every time I close my eyes I just keep thinking. Not even about anything in particular, just… thoughts.” 

He nodded, understanding you completely. 

“I know how you feel, baby. I get like that before tours.”

“What do you do?” You asked, tilting your head up to look at him. 

He smiled softly.

“I should probably say something helpful… but the truth is I’d usually just stay up and play video games until I fall asleep,” he chuckled, “But that’s shitty advice. So instead, we’re going to go down to the kitchen, we’re gonna have some toast and a drink, we can talk about anything if there’s something on your mind, then we’ll come back up and try again, okay?” 

You nodded your head. 

“Okay.” 

So the two of you wandered downstairs together. Noah switched only one of the kitchen lights on, so the brightness didn’t feel harsh, instead the room felt rather warm and cosy.

You sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island while Noah reached for the bread, putting a couple slices into the toaster before reaching into the cupboard where he kept glasses. He reached for two, then filled them with cold water before placing one in front of you.

“There you go.”

“Thank you.” You smiled. 

He leaned beside you while the toast toasted. Neither of you had your phones, there was no TV on in the background, it was just the two of you in comfortable silence at 3am, while the rest of the city slept. 

When the toast eventually popped up, he buttered both pieces before placing one on your plate and one on his own.

“Were you hungry?” You asked, and he softly shook his head before taking a bite of his slice. 

“But I’m not making you eat by yourself.” 

Your heart melted, but instead of showing it, you took a bite of your toast. 

The toast itself wasn’t anything special, but knowing Noah made it for you when he could’ve just stayed in bed made it taste even better, and gave you that warm fuzzy feeling in your chest.

By the time you both finished, and took a few sips of water, you yawned. Noah, who was rinsing off the plates, looked over his shoulder and smiled. 

“Ready to try again?” He asked as he dried his hands on a towel, before holding his hand out for you. You took it and nodded his head. 

“I think so.”

…

Back upstairs, you both lied down again, and Noah pulled the covers up before opening an arm. 

“C’mere.”

You shuffled over a little, tucking yourself into his chest, and he tucked the covers snugly around you before pressing a kiss against your forehead.

Then another on your temple, and your cheek, and the tip of your nose. You giggled, tilting your head up to look at him. 

“What was that for?”

“I figured…” He said before giving you another kiss, “You deserved a few extra tonight.”

You smiled softly, before wriggling a little, getting comfy again. You let your eyes fall shut as he gently combed his fingers through your hair before speaking again.

“Can I show you something?”

You looked up again. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s nothing special, before you get your hopes up,” he chuckled. “It’s a breathing technique. Something I do when I’m on the road and I can’t sleep.”

You nodded, earning a sleepy smile from him. 

“Follow me.” He said. 

He took one slow, deep breath in through his nose, and you felt his chest expand beneath your cheek. Then he exhaled slowly. 

“Just like that.”

You tried copying him, though your breath hitched when you felt his lips on your skin again. 

“Just slow breaths, baby.” He said, “It helps lower your heart rate, calms your nervous system, and stops your mind racing because you’re focusing on something else. It helps me, so I hope it helps you..” 

You nodded your head again, taking in another slow breath, then letting it go just as slowly. He smiled, though you couldn’t see it now as you let your head rest on his chest again. 

“That’s it, just like that.” He said, running his fingers through your hair, “And again.”

Each time felt a little easier, and without even realising it, your shoulders relaxed and your muscles relaxed, and your eyelids were beginning to feel heavier.

“I hope this works for you.” His voice was barely more than a whisper now. “And if it doesn’t, then that’s okay. We’ll try something else, or we’ll just lay here… I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

“…Promise?” You mumbled sleepily against his chest. 

“I promise.”

His fingers continued stroking gently through your hair, and every now and then you felt a soft kiss on your forehead. His hand rubbed slow circles against your back, beneath your top, and he just let you lay there. He didn’t rush you or ask if you were asleep yet, but after a while he noticed your breathing change again. 

It became even slower, deeper, and he knew then that your body finally gave in. And he smiled to himself, still holding you gently. 

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.” He whispered. 

He stayed awake for another ten minutes, making sure you were truly asleep this time before he finally allowed his own eyes to close. 

… here’s a little extra scene that came to me randomly a while ago and i was going to make it a separate oneshot, but i felt it’d perfect as part of this …

A few days later, a package arrived at his place. 

You weren’t expecting anything, you hadn’t ordered anything, so when the delivery driver knocked and handed you a medium-sized box addressed to you at Noah’s house, you frowned.

“What did you order?” Noah asked from the kitchen.

“I don’t know.”

“You ordered something and forgot?”

“…Maybe?” You were so confused, trying to work out whether one night you thought online shopping would help you sleep and bought something without realising?

Noah just chuckled, and you took the package into the kitchen, opening it on the counter. 

Inside were several different colouring books, cute ones, cosy ones, one with animals, one with flowers, one slightly more detailed, another one easy and simple. 

And beneath them, was a huge set of coloured pencils- expensive, quality ones. Along with different markers and pretty, sparkly gel pens. 

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Noah…?”

He looked up from making coffee.

“Hm?”

“Did you buy these?” You asked. 

“…Maybe.” He smirked. 

You stared at him, still a little confused. 

“Why?”

He shrugged, trying to play it off as causal, but you could see the softness in his eyes.

“You’ve been having trouble sleeping recently, so I just figured… if I’m asleep and you wake up and can’t settle, or if I’m away and your minds racing, I thought maybe it’d give your brain something gentle to focus on. Something to do instead of lying awake, feeling frustrated all night.”

You looked back down at the box, before meeting eyes again. 

“Oh, Noah!” You wrapped your arms around him, “That’s so thoughtful… no one’s ever thought about me like that before.”

He kissed your forehead.

“I think about you all the time.” He said casually with a little smile, like that didn’t just completely melt your heart!

…

And it actually seemed to work. Some nights you slept perfectly, but other nights, not so much. 

But instead of lying there and becoming more frustrated, you’d carefully slip out of bed, grab your colouring book, and sit downstairs with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

You put music on the TV and just coloured away, making yourself focus on which colours to use and staying inside the lines instead of getting annoyed at yourself.

It helped sometimes, not every time- not when your eyes were heavy, when your head ached and even the slightest slither of light from Noah’s bathroom made you wince and groan. But it helped enough. 

Then, a couple weeks later, you were colouring while Noah worked in the studio. You were trying to relax before bed, and Noah told you he had something to work on, but would make sure he was finished by 9:30 so you could both go up together. 

You looked down at the finished page in front of you with pride in your eyes, you’d coloured a little fox curled up asleep beneath a tree, and you smiled to yourself. 

Then another idea struck, making you chuckle to yourself. 

You grabbed a marker, and on the back of the page you wrote- For Noah ❤️

You felt a child bringing home artwork from school, and you were sure Noah would find it just as funny as you did. So when he was done in the studio a couple hours later, you handed it to him proudly.

“I made this for you.”

He looked down at the page, and you watched his whole face soften. 

“You did this for me?”

“Well, it wasn’t my intention when I started it… but it’s the first page I’ve actually completed. I thought you might like it.” You smirked. 

“I love it.” He smiled, kissing your forehead. “Baby, it’s beautiful.”

You didn’t expect that reaction from him, you expected him to laugh and joke about hanging it on the fridge but give it back to you. But he didn’t. 

So after every colouring you finished, you gave him the completed page. You had no idea what he was doing with them, you assumed he might’ve just thrown them away… 

But then one day, you walked into his studio looking for him. But the room was empty. 

Huh. 

“Noah?”

No answer.

You turned towards the back of the room, about to walk back out… then you noticed the inside of the studio door, and stopped in your tracks. 

There they were. Every single colouring page that you handed to him, was taped to the back of the door. The fox, a bouquet of pretty, colourful flowers, a dragon, a cute cottage- all of them were displayed here. 

“Oh.” He smiled sheepishly, appearing at the door, “You found them?”

You turned around.

“You put them up?”

“Of course I did.” He smiled. 

“Why?”

He looked genuinely confused.

“Because you made them for me,” he said simply, “And I like looking at them, especially when works stressing me out, so I thought that’d be the perfect place to put them.”

Your heart melted, and you looked up to meet his eyes. 

He's very naturally dominant—even outside of the bedroom he often displays a lot of casual/non-sexual dominance

He ALWAYS has a hand on you, whether it be your ass, your thigh, your breasts or even just your hand—if it's a part of your body, he's touching it

However, in the bedroom, or wherever else he decides? He's a whole lot worse

The casual dominance turns into a very mean, sadistic dominance, wanting to punish you for the day's brattiness (if you can take it)

He enjoys giving many forms of punishment, and of course has his favourites

Spanking and choking—simple, but very powerful. He enjoys having the control more than giving the pain, truthfully

However, he dislikes the kind of choking where he shoves any part of himself down your throat—unless you ask for it, he's not doing it

Hair pulling comes next—being able to pull you about by not only your body, but your hair too? sign him up

As for face slapping, he won't do it unless you've really pissed him off

Sometimes, you push him to that limit on purpose. Which, if he ever finds out, you better pray you can stand up the next morning

And when you both decide the bedroom is too boring, you decide to take the sex to other places too—in Jolly's bed while he isn't home is his favourite (but don't tell Jolly…or do)

Over the kitchen counter, the edge of the pool, the bathroom of a random club on a tuesday night after a show are other places that he finds exciting to have sex with you in

Although… the tour bus? Don't ask. Never again.

He's also open to exploring kinks that neither of you have tried yet

He tried bondage, but nearly killed himself (don't ask how), and found hunting a bit too boring (he cares more about the feast than the hunt)

Temperature play (specifically ice cubes and body-safe wax) is his favourite—he loves seeing the way your body twitches and reacts to it all, especially while he is still inside you

He is also like. the worlds biggest munch

He would eat you out for hours as if he was a starved man who hadn't eaten in years, even if it's the fifth time that night

Also, if you were up to it, he would consider bringing in other people—including any of the band, or maybe even (masked) friends from other bands that he knows

And if he found out you wanted to get pregnant, he would make sure to breed you until you break

If that test turned out negative, he would keep trying until there were two visible lines

Finally, of course he'd right a sexy song about you—in fact, he has too many on his computer that he hasn't dared show anyone but you

And he'd love to get you to help out with a few sounds ;)

a/n; i have a confession… im only posting this because i havent finished editing the last two parts of the stalker series… 

in my defense, ive been binge watching ginny & georgia… so my docs have been abandoned this week😭 ive also been doing some coursework recently, so i just havent had the time :(

but i promise the third part (so first of these last two) will be out next week!! i am almost done!! i just have to try not to binge watch ginny & georgia after doing my coursework…

anyways, i love you all :) thank you so much for reading <3

The marg you’re sipping on is tasting less like tequila and more like bad decisions. Horny decisions. Which is probably the alcohol if you’re being honest. It’s not like it’s helping your situation. You and Nick both know you can’t keep your hands to yourself after you’ve had a few. 

You’re blaming it on your boyfriend though, and maybe the fact your body has finally gotten its shit together since you’ve started birth control. The last few weeks have been utter hell. You’d been blessed with waves of nausea, an influx of whacked-out hormones, and a once-healthy libido that has crashed and burned like a plane shot out of the sky. The idea of being touched made you want to crawl out of your skin and bite his head off most days. 

You have to give Nick credit though. He’s a gem despite it all, patient and understanding even with his chaotic tour schedule and traveling. He’s taken your rejections on the chin without complaint, but you can tell it’s starting to get to him. 

He’s been on edge more than you’ve ever seen—the type of restlessness even weed can’t fix. It’s why you impulsively agreed to go to this pool party his friends threw together tonight for his birthday. The break from life stress and the change of scenery sounded like a good idea, plus he deserved catching up with friends he hadn’t seen in a while. 

Watching him hang out with old buddies is rewarding, but the wholesomeness ends there. You’ve stopped paying attention to the other women chatting around you long enough for the ice in your drink to melt. Your eyes are fixed on your boyfriend across the backyard, catching his flashy-ass watch and that diamond-studded earring. You almost hate how well his Italian ass pulls it off. His forearm flexes, showing off muscles under his summer tan, and with that week-old stubble he’d chosen not to shave, you’re absolutely feral. 

Sure, you can beg him to leave right now, but you still have a forty-five minute drive back, and that just won’t do. Your bathing suit is stimulating all the right spots just enough to make you aware, and the growing ache between your bare thighs is at a point that’s impossible to ignore. You’re not sure if it’s the risk of getting caught or the consuming need to have him, but you have to do something as soon as possible. 

As if Nick can sense your gawking, he looks away from his friend and meets your gaze across the backyard. A smirk pulls the corner of his mouth. You think about that mouth. Those pouty lips. His tongue on your… 

Fuck, your pussy is practically throbbing and he’s none the wiser. 

You stand up from the deck chair and slip away from the conversation, knowing they’ll barely notice your absence. It’s not like you’ve had much input in the past ten minutes anyway. Drink in hand, you meander over to your boyfriend while attempting to look cool and casual.  

But it’s less like a nonchalant stroll and more like the trajectory of a heat-seeking missile locked on target. You’re lucky everyone’s too drunk and distracted to pay attention. 

“Yeah, man,” Nick says after taking a sip from his Coors, “I can take a look at it for you if you want, but I’m kind of shit at driving manuals.”

The guy he’s talking to laughs, and Nick joins in. He introduced you earlier in the night but you’re not confident if it’s Brad or Chad, so you nod as your boyfriend welcomes you with his free arm. You believe it’s absent-minded, but he wraps it around your back like normal, pulling you in close like a claim. 

It has you melting against his frame, nuzzling in close. He smells like chlorine and the collar of his shirt is damp from his hair, but his body’s warm, still holding in the sun’s heat from earlier in the evening. 

It takes everything to give him the usual, respectful kiss on the cheek, but instead of resting your head on his shoulder afterwards, you bring your mouth to his ear and whisper, “I need you.”

A puff of air leaves his lips, and you consider nipping his earlobe for good measure. When he sees the wanton look in your eye, his own blow wide with shock. He scoffs as his brows jump, but he keeps his voice low and hushed, “Right now? Here?…Seriously?”

You’ve talked about being more spontaneous in your relationship, but it’s obvious you took him by surprise. It makes you doubt yourself. This isn’t something you normally do. Maybe this is a bad idea, you think. But the feeling doesn’t last because once you study that borderline-naive, deer-in-the-headlights look as his grip on you tightens, the last thing you want to do is back out now. 

You tip your chin, bringing yourself closer, and mumble against his lips, ”Upstairs bathroom. Ten minutes.”

Before he can respond, you pull away and turn back to the house without another word. 

Since everyone’s outside hanging around the pool, it’s easy to walk through the house to the upstairs hallway bathroom. And you’re in luck. It’s empty. But this is when you get that nervous, fluttery feeling in your chest. It’s one thing to tease each other with a fantasy, but actually going through with it is another. 

You should’ve told him five minutes. Ten is going to feel like an eternity. 

Instead of letting yourself overthink, you decide to freshen up at the vanity, which forces you to look at your reflection. You’ve spent the afternoon in the sun and it shows. Your hair’s a frizzy mess and your makeup is pretty much gone from water and sweat, revealing the slight sunburn on your cheeks and nose. You pull at your bikini and see the tan line already developing. 

Without makeup or a hairbrush, you resort to fingercombing through your hair and readjust your tits in your bathing suit. It’s not like you need to do much anyway. Nick’s seen you plenty of times barefaced wearing nothing but one of his Harley-Davidson shirts.

Then there’s a gentle rap of knuckles on the door. It startles you, but then you hear a muffled voice. 

“It’s me.”

You crack the door to find your boyfriend standing out in the hallway. Without a word, you grab his arm to yank him inside, attacking him with a hungry kiss, which pushes him back against the door, closing it. He struggles to keep up and laughs against your moving lips, but you’re impatient. You lick into his mouth for the first time in weeks, tasting him. Feeling him. He might be holding your waist, but he doesn’t fight your needy hands when you reach between his legs. 

“Goddamn, what’s gotten into you?” he jokes, breaking the kiss. 

“What? I can’t give you a birthday gift?” You giggle, dragging your mouth along his jaw as you feel the outline of him through his swim trunks. “You’re already hard.”

“Birthday, huh?” He starts to laugh again, but his breath catches in his throat when you squeeze him. You don’t give him the chance to regroup his thoughts either, and slip your hand inside his trunks and wrap your fingers around his length, making him groan. 

“Fuck, baby,” he sighs with a horny kick of his hips. 

You’ve missed this so much. The warmth of his hard cock in your hand. How responsive he is to you. The sweet, shy sounds he makes. As much as you want to keep touching him like this, he’s big, stretching out the material, which makes it impossible to fully stroke him.

Knowing you’re running out of time and that there’s a zero chance he’ll turn down a blowjob, you lower to your knees and thank the plush bathmat there to cushion them. He’s quiet as you tug his shorts and wiggle them down his hips until his cock springs free. You’ve almost forgotten what it looks like it’s been so long. You watch it twitch from his heartbeat before trailing wet kisses from his navel until your lips reach the base. Like many times in the past, he runs his fingers through your hair, but with the alcohol in his system, he’s rougher than usual, making you hiss. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, immediately softening his grip. 

“S’okay,” you say, looking up, apologizing in your own way for the last few weeks. His eyes meet yours, looking glassy and lust-blown. You bite your lip and give him a deliberately slow stroke. 

His lids flutter, but his focus stays locked on you and he teases, “Couldn’t wait to play with my cock, huh?”

It’s so hot when he talks dirty. You mouth up and down his shaft, making sure to use your tongue with every kiss. He’s doing a good job keeping his composure because he’s throbbing in your hand, and you consider praising him for it. “Wanted to make sure I got to before you had too much to drink tonight.”

He scoffs, “You’re never gonna let me live that one down, are you?”

“Never,” you tease, emphasizing it with a torturous swirl of your tongue around his cockhead.

“It was one tim—Ah! Fuck!” he gasps when you flick across that perfect spot under the tip. His fist locks in your hair and a groan rasps inside his throat. “This is fuckin’ crazy.”

You smile around him before pulling off, “You wanna back out?”

“Fuck no.”

You suck him back into your mouth, and it doesn’t take long to become reacquainted with every detail and vein. He’ll probably be happy with whatever you do, but you remember what he likes the most. 

“If you keep doing that, I'm not gonna want you to stop,” he warns. 

It’s so tempting to keep going. He always makes the prettiest sounds. Letting him finish in your mouth wouldn’t be a bad present, but you have other plans for him.

So does he, it seems. Nick barely lets you stand before kissing you, and walks you back to the vanity. After lifting you onto the counter, he drops to the floor obediently, hooks your bathing suit out of the way, and dives face first between your thighs. It’s what you’ve been imagining all night. Hot, wet and sticky. His perfect mouth on your cunt, pretty lips sealed around your swollen clit, eager tongue lapping through your folds. 

He’ll keep at it until your legs are shaking uncontrollably around his head, but you don’t want to risk missing out on what you really want. You weave your fingers through his thick, damp hair and pull at the roots, begging, “Fuck me now, Nick.”

The plea makes him stop—not that you’re worrying about that. But he pauses for a few seconds to catch his breath and the air clings to your tacky skin. He wipes his mouth on the inside of your thigh before standing on his feet. As he closes in between your open legs, you pull him into a kiss, and taste yourself on his wet, swollen lips. 

It might’ve been a few weeks since you’ve had sex, but he moves your body with practiced ease, like you haven’t skipped a day. The firm grip on your ass gives him the leverage to drag you closer to the edge of the vanity. It’s not the best position. You’re uncomfortable with the counter digging into your asscheeks, but you forget the pain the second his cock nudges against your pussy. 

You clutch onto him, gripping the fun-faded t-shirt, and wrap your legs around his waist. He rocks his hips forward slightly, nestling himself at your entrance, and you feel the sting of him already stretching you. Just when you think he’s about to push inside, he curses under his breath.

“What’s wrong?”

He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t have a condom.”

You snort. Not that it’s something out of the ordinary for him to say. This is the point when he would start reaching for one. “Your dedication is sweet, babe, but I’m on the pill now, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckles, and the tension releases from his shoulders until the realization sets in. No condom. The implication is heavy. New. “You sure?”

He’s right there, suede-soft and rock hard pulsing against your clit. Even if he hasn’t told you directly, you know his answer before you ask the question, “Are you?”

Nick nods with a hum and readjusts, coating himself in your wetness. He’s thick, so the first few thrusts are always the most intense. You do your best to relax as he works himself inside inch by inch. The first one nearly takes your breath away. It’s shallow, but when he rocks back for a second, he slides in a little deeper.  

You cry into his shoulder and dig your nails into his back as cants his hips for the third and he buries himself to the hilt. A low groan escapes him, “Fuck, you feel so good.” 

You kiss along his neck and whimper in agreement. Instead of the rubbery latex barrier, you feel only him. Warm. Silky. Real. The hard ridge of his cock hitting every perfect spot. Sex was amazing before, but this is addicting and you don’t know how you’re ever going back. 

He’s slow with his thrusts even though this is supposed to be a quickie, not that you’re complaining. “Holy shit,” he grunts, breathing heavily. “I feel like I’m gonna bust already.”

You search for his mouth, nose bumping along his stubbly cheek, giggling, “Such a way with words.”

He smiles, and you don’t have to see it to know how charming that crooked grin is. “Sorry...can’t help it.”

“Nick,” you breathe, coaxing him with a soft kiss on the lips, “I want you to cum in me this time.”

”W-what?”

You slide your hand up from his back and card your fingers through his hair, which gets his attention. Looking into his big, brown eyes, you tell him, ”Don’t you fucking dare pull out.”

Other than a moan, there’s no warning before his mouth crashes into yours, hot and unforgiving, giving you mostly tongue and teeth. Love drunk and sloppy. You squeal against his frantic lips, but it doesn’t stop the sharp snap of his hips or the way his fingers squeeze your ass. His pace changes suddenly, and his thrusts become deliberate. 

It’s intense. The stretch of his cock filling you up. The way he slams against your cervix. A part of you wishes he bent you over the sink so you could see his face in the mirror while he fucks you raw. What a sight that would be. You imagine it instead, remembering how he scrunches his nose and clenches his jaw. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he pants. 

It makes you feel alive. Desired. 

You try to muffle your sounds, but if anyone stood outside the bathroom door, there’s no doubt they could hear what’s happening. Did you even lock the bathroom door?

You drag your nails across the back of his head, scratching through the soft, buzzed hair, and whisper in his ear, “Keep talking.”

He slows and pauses, like he’s thinking, and huffs a nervous laugh. “What do you want me to say?”

His moments of shyness have always been endearing, but you need more. “Ask me whose pussy is this.”

You hear him swallow, and then he mutters, quiet and unsure. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Louder, baby,” you encourage with a kiss on the corner of his mouth.  

Something clicks as if you flipped the magic switch. The surge of confidence could be the alcohol, but he locks in, snapping his hips as he did before. When he says it again, there’s conviction in his voice, ”Whose pussy is this?”

”Yours,” you respond, digging your nails into the meat of his bicep. ”Make it yours.”

“Yeah?” He breathes, heavy and ragged, and presses his nose to yours. “Want me to fill you up, baby?”

You nod emphatically, but can’t hold back your whimper, which makes him smile. A cocky little grin. Grabbing your waist, he tilts your hips, and your thoughts suddenly flatline. Any fear of being caught vanishes, and he overrides your senses completely. His breathy groans in your ear, the musky scent of his skin, his puffy lips moving against yours, the slick glide of his cock moving inside you.  

“You feel so good,” you moan into his mouth. 

”C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he urges between grunts, “come for me.”

You’re not sure if it's the desperation in his voice or the way he’s fucking you, but within seconds, you’re there. Each thrust throws you closer to the edge. You’re not sure who comes first, but you squeeze around him like a vice grip as each wave of your climax rolls through you. 

“Oh, shit,” he huffs, shuddering. “Fuck, I, I’m—“

He cuts himself off with a sound you’ve never heard before, and instead of pulling out and filling a condom, he stays tucked deep inside you, keeping his promise. You feel his cock pulse, hard and heavy, and for the first time, he floods your pussy the way you wanted. He always cums so much. It’s already leaking out and he hasn’t moved.

As you come back down to earth, you caress his back and kiss him while he catches his breath. When he finally gets his bearings and withdraws from you, he makes sure to look down at the mess between your thighs. Normally you’d be too shy, but you spread them open wider, giving him a better view. 

“Wow.” he breathes.

”Happy Birthday,” you giggle, watching the awestruck look on his face. 

He laughs—that goofy one that you love so much. “Happy Birthday to me.”

His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and the intensity of the moment evolves into something deeper. You don’t need reassurance, but you ask anyway, “Do you like it?”