For you I would ruin myself a million little times

You’re brushing your fingers on his back, counting his freckles on his sun-kissed skin. You’ve both earned that vacation and now you would never want to leave, wanting to leave forever in that state of golden haze, warm wind going through your hair and the perfume of coconut on your hands.

You press a kiss on Frankie’s right shoulder, warm under your lips, “We’re really living the dream.” You utter on his skin, and he looks at you, seated on his side, smiling like he would only smile for you. “Every place with you is a dream.” He takes your hand and presses a kiss on it, never breaking the eye contact with you.

“My precious boyfriend who claims to not be romantic at all.” You let out, taking his face in your other hand and bringing him in for a kiss, feeling him smiling on your lips.

“I’m not that romantic.” He says after and you rise your eyebrows at him, “Oh you’re not? Then who organised this trip choosing a private house with a beach for us only? Who is leaving rose petals on the floor and on the bed? And who is the one preparing breakfast every single morning in front of the beach? Must be someone else then.” You click your tongue, a hand still caressing his back, and he shakes his head not holding back a giggle.

“Alright, alright, you win. You’ve made me an hopeless romantic.” And you can’t believe how much in love he is with you, how around you both there’s a literal paradise and yet he still has eyes for you and you only, looking at you like you’re the eight wonder.

Well, especially now that you got up and he’s still seated on the sand, feeling his look scanning you from head to toe, “I mean, look at you,” he breathes, and you decide that it is time for a little teasing.

“Yeah, look at me.” You start, taking back the coconut in your hand and sipping again on it, licking your lips right after, as a drop has fallen on your chest, barely covered by your crocheted bikinis; you take that drop with your finger, then bringing it to your lips and and cleaning it with your tongue. You know that all of that is working, then giving him your back and walking a bit towards the sea, swinging your hips, that crocheted bottom really leaving very little to the imagination, barely covering your ass.

And when you turn again, he’s still staring at you in awe, like he’s under some magic spell created by you. You get closer to him again, him still seated and now his face can reach perfectly your abs and well, your bottoms too. In fact, he hooks one arm around your hips, bringing you closer to his face, leaving kisses on you hips and going higher and then lower again, the hand not holding the coconut lost in his hair.

“The size of this thing is outrageous.” He whispers, as he’s pulling higher the crocheted bottoms, now feeling more exposed. It takes you by surprise when you feel his lips on your thigh, then going for the inside and going up until your centre.

“It barely covers you,” he says and he smooths a hand on you there, you biting your lip in trepidation for his next move, which is passing his thumb on your lips there, then cupping you with one hand.

“Might be time to take it off, don’t you think, my sunshine?” You giggle for the name, still nodding and almost squirming already under that touch.

You think that he’s gonna ask you to go inside, but instead he pulls the bottoms to one side, sighing at the view and you grab his wrists, “Frankie, someone is gonna-” but you can’t continue the phrase since he’s already started kissing you there, the bottoms getting in his way though.

“What? No one is gonna see us anyway.” He teases, taking off his cap and pulling the bottoms more to the side, beginning to kiss you again, at least he’s not already eating you out, otherwise it would be more difficult to think properly.

You grip his hair, “Uh-Uh.” You click your tongue, keeping him far from your centre, “No more of this if we don’t go inside, you menace.”

And he licks his lips, looking up at you, and you know that he’s ready to do what you just said, even putting back your panties how they should be. He gets up, giving you his hand, “Can’t believe that that was all it took to make you finally stand.” You shake your head, taking his hand, following him on the deck and then inside the house.

The sunlight bathes the bedroom as you enter, Frankie having you do a little pirouette so he can still admire that set on you. “I really got you with this one,” you beam, hands passing on your breasts and going lower, him watching you and enjoying the show. You put down the coconut on the nightstand, Frankie still looking at you in awe and grabbing your hips, gently holding you and finally kissing you on your lips, “Yeah, you really got me.” He mutters over your lips, kissing you again. Your hands get lost in his hair and you start taking some steps backwards, stopping when you feel the edge of the bed, leaving his lips and sitting there, going a little higher on the bed so that you can lay down on your elbows.

You widen your legs, “You know damn well what you’re doing, babygirl.” He exhales, starting to kiss you on your thigh, going for the inside, nose brushing on your centre, before he leaves a kiss there, even though you’re still covered. He goes higher, leaving a trail of kisses on your tummy and then reaching the centre of your chest, kissing you again and and then going for your collarbones.

His lips reach your neck, and you hold his face, guiding him where you want him, and before you can realise it, he’s untying your bikini top, first the lace on the neck and then the one behind your chest, you arching your back to make it easier for him.

Once it’s loose, he places his hands on your breasts, making it slide down finally revealing your skin; he drops it somewhere else on the bed, hands lingering on your skin, back of his fingers shaping them. “You’re so gorgeous.” He marvels, and you let out a low moan as he cupped your breast, lightly pinching a nipple.

You see his look wander for a moment on the nightstand, “I just got an idea.” He says, getting up and then showing the coconut to you. “So, it has still some water in it,” he says, shaking it a little, “And I was thinking that we could have some fun with it.”

You get up on your elbows, “Then what are you waiting for?” You challenge.

He tilts the fruit and some water starts dropping, ending on your neck and on your collarbones, letting it fall a little more then on your chest, feeling that refreshing sensation. He starts kissing you on your neck, going for the collarbones and licking all over it, collecting the juice; and then it’s time to dedicate all that care to the chest too, his tongue tracing your breasts and making you bite your bottom lip when he starts circling his tongue over your left nipple, his fingers working on the other one.

“Please, Frankie,” you utter, moving his head even closer to your breast, feeling his breathing all over it, “Want me to suck you here, love?” He asks, proving his point by pinching both of your nipples lightly between his fingers, you nodding and he takes the water, meticulously dropping some of it on your right one. He takes it in his mouth, twirling his tongue around it and properly sucking it, your hands lost in his curls, now that he’s taken off the dark cap.

“Fuck, Frankie.” You moan, as even just this way of touching you could make you come, no questions asked.

He smirks, and moves onto the left one, delivering it the same treatment, licking, kissing and sucking, all your nerves there sending pleasure actually in all your body; his teeth graze your nipple, for just a moment, and it’s enough for you to arch your back, “You could come just with this, wouldn’t you?” He says, now kneeling between you and each hand on your breasts, fingers brushing on the nipples, now harder with all the pleasure that has been delivered to them.

“I could,” you chuckle, “But you know that is not how I want it today.” You add, a hand going through is curls.

“Mh and how is that my girl wants to come?” He lavishly says, kissing you at the centre of your chest, and then going up until your neck.

You whisper all the words to him, him humming between all the kisses, then looking at you, adoring eyes glimmering under the sunlight.

He gets again the coconut and lets its water drop on your abs and tummy, your muscles retracting at that sudden feeling with the cold.

“Too cold?” He asks, hands smoothing on your hips. “It’s okay, you’ll keep warm in a minute.” You let out, him responding by kissing you on the hip and then going collecting the water on your abs, you relaxing at that treatment, at that way that he has of putting so much care in what he does.

“I guess you won’t need these anymore.” He beams, starting to pull down the bikini bottoms. And once he’s done, you’re laying there, nothing else on you, his eyes catching every single detail and a sigh of awe leaving his lips, hands caressing you on the side of your thighs.

“Havin’ the eight wonder right in front of me,” he exhales, you giggling drunk in love.

“Want to pour it a little more?” You hand him the famous coconut, and he rises his eyebrows, “Well, of course.” He takes it from your hand and this time he pours it on your hips and then on your tummy again, just that this time you’re not clothed anymore, so it ends on your centre too. Your first instinct is to close your legs but then you just keep them open, “Oops wonder where it went.” He jokingly says, and you smile along him, ready for what’s coming.

He kisses your hips, hands smoothing there right after and he goes lower, a thumb now passing between your folds and you let out a low moan at that. “Oh this must be where it went.” He teases, before laying down between your legs. Fingertips caress you, before you feel his lips closing there, starting to kiss you all over; and you’re so aroused that you almost scream when you finally feel his tongue directly touching you on your clit, fingertips now keeping you open, spreading you even more. He licks you clean from the coconut water, now the sensation of cold all gone, instead a warmth building inside of you, a heat that only he can give you.

The obscene sounds fill the room, between him kissing you there and your moans.

Tongue swirls still over your clit, before leaving you and you see him bringing his fingers up to your face; you open your mouth, taking in the two fingers and sucking on them, feeling the taste of coconut there.

“Good girl.” He utters, now pulling out his fingers, and soon you’re feeling a fingertip slowly pushing into you, as he’s back to eating you out at the same time. The finger goes in easily, you welcoming him as it was all that you wanted; he pumps it a little, and when you nod at him he pushes the second one in, stretching you the good amount that you need. You lose yourself in that pleasure, and soon you have to grab his curls for the way he’s bringing you over the edge already.

When he finally pulls away you’re already out of breath, him keeping your legs apart as he brushes just one finger over your centre, “Could have eaten you out forever, you know that?” He breathes, kissing you on the inner thigh, and you know how he loves to make love to you like that, a lot. You lick your lips, “I know,” you say, getting higher on the bed and kneeling, bringing him closer to you. “Need to take care of you,” you let out, kissing him on his chest and quickly going lower, tracing his abs with both your hands and lips. Your hand goes holding his length and he hisses for the way he has not touched himself up until now, but you don’t spend that much time there.

You get up to get the coconut again, letting him just sit on the edge of the bed and now you walk up to him, having put a straw in the coconut, “Wonder what I’m gonna do now?” You ask innocently, as you wrap your lips around the straw and sip the water.

“Babygirl I’m dying here,” he dramatically says, and you push him until he’s laying back on his elbows on the bed, and you mirror what he’s done to you, droplets ending on his chest and you kissing them right away, going lower and lower; you feel his look on you as you start to pull down his shorts and boxers at the same time, revealing how hard he is.

You kneel on the floor and you drop the last reaming water on his crotch, before taking him in your hand, pumping just the right amount before wrapping your lips around him and you hear a loud moan already coming from him. His taste and the one of the coconut mix in your mouth, you humming at that and working on his tip.

And if you could look at him now from down there, you would see his head thrown back, still staying on his elbows, pleasure washing over him, lips parted.

His moans tell you that is enough after not too long, you’ve driven him over the edge well enough.

You get up and he pulls you in for a kiss, now straddling him, balancing yourself with your hands placed on his chest.

“Go get what you want now.” He says over your lips and you smile, picking up from the floor what you had told him you wanted to wear. His dark blue cap, that is the only thing you’re wearing as you straddle him once again, long hair falling on your shoulders. He adjusts the visor, and when you go to kiss him it clashes with his forehead making giggle both of you.

“Hold on, we have a solution for this.” He says, now turning the cap backwards and putting it again on your head, adjusting your hair under it. “How do I look?” You ask, widending a bit more your legs, “Perfect, fucking perfect,” he exhales as you’re taking his length and pumping it again, before finally pushing down on it. And that leave you both breathless, all the waiting leading to you feeling him as you lay on it, hands gripping his shoulders and his hands guiding your hips down.

The feeling is overwhelming and for a moment you have to take a deep breath, him brushing your hair, “Everything alright?” He checks in, and his voice takes you back to reality, “Yes, yes,” you exhale, and it is true, because you couldn’t be more alright than this.

You start moving your hips, feeling him deeper and deeper, what should be pain instead being pleasure and pleasure only, going then for his lips and kissing him, trapping there some of the moans of both of you.

And soon he’s kissing your neck, you grabbing his curls as he’s grabbing your hips, like he could give them just the shape of his hands; you guide one of his hands between you two and he quickly gets the memo, and goes rubbing his thumb over your clit. You let out a loud moan at the way you’re feeling him inside of you and the way of having him all over you, his touch there and his lips closing over your skin, and then going for your lips. It’s intense in the way you both need, heart rushing as you keep riding him, deciding how much you want to let in every time you go down on him. And on the next thrust you go all the way down, feeling every inch of him inside you, pulsing into you, letting out a moan of you. From there you just keep moving like that, thrusting onto him, only pleasure in his eyes and falling from his lips onto yours, endless praising, and swearing too.

He keeps touching you there, feeling how wet you are and you're getting even more wet with every movement, starting to feel the pleasure building up always more, flushed cheeks and bitten lips.

“There you go, baby, come on.” His deep voice mixed with the high pleasure sends sparkles all over you and one thrust after you’re tightening around him and coming, his hand now all slicked.

He holds you now with both his hands and thrusts back, and right after you’re filled with him, getting even warmer inside. His head falls onto your chest, both of you trying to catch your breath.

“I love you so much, you know that?” He says, voice deeper, and you kiss his hair, “I love you too.” Still out of breath, and God only knows how much time you spend embraced in that hug, having him still inside.

It is only when the slight breeze is making you feel cold that you push on his shoulders and finally leave him, although you miss immediately the way you were completed by him.

You lay down next to him, on your tummy, him brushing your hair on your shoulders, sunshine kissing your skin.

“Next time we do it with tequila.” You let out, now looking at the empty coconut on the nightstand.

“What?” Frankie still lost in the haze looks at you a little confused.

“The tequila, the salt, you know...” You imitate the gesture of pouring it.

“Oh I can’t with you.” The idea finally sinking into his mind, and you both laugh, you going to kiss him on his chest and then laying there on your hands.

“But you did have fun, didn’t you.” You jest, and he puts back the cap how it should be, but still leaving it to you.

“Imagine how much fun it could be with that too.” You add, and he shakes his head, still laughing.

“Did I wake you up?” You utter, a hand going through his hair, him shaking his head and placing another kiss on your neck.

“Oh, remind me when is the next race?” He points a finger at the screen, leaning his head onto your shoulder to have a better look at it.

“It’s next week,” you answer putting down the phone on the counter, now slouching an arm around his shoulders, “and it’s in Monaco.”

He nods at your words, he would always listen to your rambling about f1, even staying up late or waking up at insane hours to watch it with you, even though mostly he would just watch you and see the smile on your face and the passion you have melt his heart.

“And have you ever been to Monaco?” He asks, looking up at you with those dreamy eyes, your thumb brushing on his forehead, “No, I haven’t, neither for the race nor for any other reason.”

You have dreamt so many times about how it would be to attend a race there, at such an iconic circuit, one of those circuits that would always make you hold your breath, especially during qualifying, for how tricky it is.

“Mhmh,” he nods, and you can see a glimpse of a smirk on his lips, “But you would love to go there, right?”

And now he is being cryptic, you tilting your head at him, “Yeah of course, I have been dreaming about that for so many years, but I never got the chance to actually go.”

You study his face for a moment, and you can tell that he is hiding something, but you patiently wait for him to stop being cryptic, which he always is before unleashing some kind of surprise on you, and definitely you have to stop yourself from dreaming about still going to that damn race.

“Oh well,” he reaches for something in the pocket of his shorts, “I wonder what is this, how did it end up here?” Holding a thick letter in his hand, wrapped with a little bow.

You tense up, your breathing literally stopping.

“Harry-” the words dying in your throat because it couldn’t be, right? It couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be happening to you.

“I think that a little bird might have left it for you.” He hands you the letter, taking it in your hands while they are trembling, unable to do anything rather than staring at it.

He brushes his nose over your shoulder, nudging you a little, “Come on, I’m curious to see what it is.” His lips pressing a kiss over your skin, and your heart beats so fast, it races in your chest as you start to undo the little bow, hands still trembling and fingers hesitant to see what these papers hold. You could never know what Harry’s surprises could be, never even imagine what his plans could be for a night out or a weekend trip, but surely right now you are hoping for just one thing while you unfold the papers.

And the words on the paper are clear as a day “You’re in! Time to start the countdown for the Monaco Grand Prix!”

You swear you can feel your heart stop just to then start racing again, “You got me the tickets for Monaco? Oh my god!” Your voice already breaking with tears of happiness as you jump off the counter to properly hugging him, almost jumping in his arms, repeating an infinite series of “thank you” over his shoulder, as you’re sure you’re wetting his t-shirt with your tears.

“I can’t believe you did this for me, I really can’t.” You say, voice heavy with emotions, “We’re going to Monaco‼” and you cannot help but jump in his arms, him lifting you up as you kiss him, hands cupping his cheeks, still those tickets in your hand.

You take a look out of the plane’s window, seeing the sea and boats and you swear you can already see the red and white lines on the street.

It all becomes so real when you land, getting off from the private jet only to get into a luxurious car, Harry would never settle for any less nor he would want you to do that. He drives along the streets as if he’s known them forever, letting down the window on your seat, the warm breeze messing with your hair, “Have you ever been already sometimes?” You ask, look lingering on him and on his sprawled hand on the steering wheel as he turns on the right.

“Yeah, a couple of times for work, but never to the actual Grand Prix.” He glances at you, “And to be honest I never thought I would have actually come here to attend one, but there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my love.” He takes your hand in his, still looking at the road but pressing a kiss on your knuckles, “Every day is a surprise with you,” he continues, “I find myself doing things or going places I had never seen, or even at least experiencing them the way I do with you.”

You listen to him, as he leaves your hand back on your thigh, “There is something special about what we do together, what I get to do with you,” his eyes catching the sunlight, the sun creating a shadow on his face, accentuating even more his already perfect side profile, “Because I do it with someone I love for the very first time in my life.”

And definitely it is not the first time that he tells you he loves you, but this is such a new confession, this gives a new layer to it, “Every place we’ve been together to, darling, now it is different in my eyes, because I got to love you there, I got to love you on the other side of the world, in places that I would have never imagined to be with someone as special as you.”

Eyes glimmer with a couple of tears, and you love how emotional he can get, how he wears his heart on his sleeve despite his first appearance being the one of just someone very rich or entitled. But he couldn’t be far from being entitled, he’s the truest person you’ve ever met and you think that sharing all these experiences with him might be the biggest gift that life could give to you.

You look down at the ring shining on your finger, that little diamond creating rainbows on the console of the car, just one of the latest gifts from him, and yet the best gift will always be having his love.

It’s almost sunset when you reach the villa he rented, all in pristine white with golden details, and sleek black gates, Harry opening them with a remoter, and going in, the villa surrounded by just peace and quiet, being on top of the hill; you take a look at Monaco from up here once you’re out of the car, having taken out all the luggage, but staring for a moment at that beauty, sea breeze gracing your uncovered skin on your arms.

“It’s breathtaking.” You whisper, his arms wrapped around your waist as he presses a kiss behind your neck, “It really is.”

And for sure he is not looking at the landscape, he’s looking at you.

Your hand caresses his arm, as he presses a kiss on your cheek, and you can’t help but thinking that you’re leaving in a dream.

And that first night there tastes like champagne and his kisses, seeing that city at night might be even more magical, the lights making the sea shimmer. You should be used to all of this, but every time spending the nights between expensive restaurants and exclusive clubs is always something else with him, but every time it feels like the first one, marvelling at those beautiful places and at how charming Harry always looks, and the way he treats like a princess.

Day 1 || Free Practice 1 and 2

“So, maybe I forgot to tell you that we don’t have the tickets for the Grand Prix only.” He whispers, as if he’s saying a secret that somebody else could hear. You’re getting ready for the first day of the race weekend, picking the outfit with the colours of your favourite team. “Harry, I swear- what else have you gotten me?” You smile, failing to believe how the surprises never end with him, there’s always a new one around the corner.

“Well,” and this time instead of handling you a folded letter he gives you a velvety box.

You take the box in your hands, being so soft as you touch it and placing it on the bed and sitting for a moment there, looking up at him, because it really can’t be what you think it is, again.

He leans on the door frame of the bedroom, dreamy look on his face, and you dare to open the box, the light making shine immediately the passes inside.

Paddock passes.

You take one in your hands, trembling, and you can’t help but jump from the bed and going to hug him, almost unable to utter a word that is not “thank you, thank you.” getting all emotional over his shirt, still clutching that pass in your hand.

“Harry, you know that I couldn’t love you more than this.”

But he tilts his head, hinting at something else, and you stop him before he can say anything, “Is there something else?!”

And he laughs alongside you, ducking a bit his head, as he brushes his thumb on your waist, “You know how some people get access to the garage of the teams…”

“Oh no way, Harry, there is no way that we’re getting even to the garage? That we have a fucking VIP access?”

“Well, yeah, the final surprise is that we can go to the garage of your favourite team, you will see the cars and everything from up close and… of course you can meet your favourite driver.”

—

And so it begins, your dream of going through the gates of the paddock, heart beating so fast as one moment after you’re surrounded by all the noises, engines revving, mechanics working and people talking about the weekend and all sorts of specifics about the cars.

Team crews going around in their team colours, and you even manage to get a couple of photos of some team principals, Harry just following you along and for some reason he really thinks this is where you belong, this is your whole world. He’s even more sure than that when you get escorted to the garage of the team, seeing your eyes glimmering with emotions as you see the cars.

Your heart beats so fast, drumming against your chest in a way that is making your ears ringing: they’re really there in front of you, these cars that you’ve never imagined you could see, not even from behind a fence, let alone from this up close, catching all the details as you get a tour and full explanation of all the tools in the garage, the screens, and of course the parts of the cars.

Emotions run even wilder when you finally get to meet your favourite driver, and it goes exactly as how you’ve always imagined it, if not even better. You get to talk with him a little too, telling him all about why he’s your favourite and you can feel the tears in your eyes because of the happiness; Harry just goes along with everything, beaming with joy when he gets to take some photos of you and the driver together, because seeing you this overjoyed literally has no price for him.

“Do I have to worry about some competition?” He jokingly asks after, giving you the phone to look at the photos, and you lightly hit him on his arm, “You could never worry about that.” Shaking your head as you both giggle.

Free practice begins and you’re both given the big headphones, marvelling even at those as you wear them, only to see the drivers getting into the cars and starting to get away from the garages, the rumbling of the cars so strong that you swear you could feel it in your veins.

Harry has almost stepped back from all of that, leaving you your moment to enjoy the dream, because it is not about him right now, it is all about you.

You take a look at the screens, seeing the timings and looking at how most of the cars are on track, feeling that adrenaline that it would always give you when you see those cars running on track.

You even get the chance to see some pitstop practice, seeing that quickness, that sort of blink and you miss it, holding your breath while they do it.

And the day goes by, eyes marvelling at the screens, the data showed on them, and the engines being the loudest noise you’ve ever heard. You lean into Harry’s side when it’s time to go, both free practice ended, still thanking him for this day and for the way he’s left you all the time needed to be just with one of your biggest passions.

He waves it off, as he would always do, as you walk down the paddock and through the exit, because he has the possibility to make your dream too, and he would do it again and again, no questions asked.

You both spend the remaining of the afternoon wandering around the city, arm in arm, Harry telling you all about the places he’s been here, talking about the days spent here and even though they must be happy memories he has a sort of melancholia as he recalls them, because it was a time when his job was the only thing that mattered, when he still didn’t know what he wanted, and jumping from city to city, country to country, was all he did, never setting roots anywhere and never having a stable relationship in his life. But this time is different, this is the time when he’s gonna finally have memories that are gonna stick with him forever, because there will be no way he will ever forget how excited you look in that garage or how you kept smiling at him whenever you saw something new in the garage, even though he really doesn’t understand that much of all that stuff, but he would always listen to you and to what makes you happy.

Day 2 - Free Practice 3 and Qualifying

Still today you get the access to the paddock, having the privilege to watch practice 3 from the top of the garage buildings, looking at the pitstops from up above and having also a nice view of a little part of the track, seeing the cars running on it. Harry looks adorable, wearing the cap of your favourite team and leaning on the balcony, and on your shoulder, today asking you a little more on your predictions and just listening to you in that charming way that he has.

And for qualifying, you get to go to the seats, and of course he got some of the best seats at the race, heading to the Harbour, looking down at all the boats and seeing how you have such a great view of the track, seeing the famous chicane right after the tunnel from up here.

You know damn well that these might be the best seats in Monaco and so the most expensive, but once again Harry reassures you that it was no problem getting them and that if you want to, that’s exactly where you’re gonna be next year too. You shake your head at him, smiling, knowing that nothing could ever stop him from giving you such gifts.

And seeing the cars from this grandstand is something else, seeing them in action, drivers pushing to their limits to get the best time, and getting through the next phase of qualifying.

You hold Harry’s hand as you look at the time of the final lap of your favourite driver, the one that could determine if he’s gonna take pole position or not, heart beating fast against your chest, looking at the screen for the first part of the lap and then in a heartbeat seeing him coming down from the tunnel, through the chicane, and on the track right before your eyes, engine roaring as he goes at the highest speed. You go back looking at the screen, now holding Harry’s hand with both of your hands, him looking up at the screen too, hoping and hoping that he’s gonna get pole just for you.

A rush of happiness makes you jump from the seat when he finally gets pole, screaming his name as other people in the crowd cheer too, “He got pole, he got pole‼”

On the way back to the villa, you can’t stop smiling, almost jumping for how ecstatic your area, Harry endearingly glancing at you.

During the night you can’t even fall asleep, such is the excitement for tomorrow, making definitely good use of the time you’re both spending up, lost in the bedsheets as you moan each other’s names.

Day 3 || Race day

This is it, you think as you’re letting Harry closing your dress for the day, this is the day. The dress falls perfectly on you, having chosen one of the colour of your favourite team, Harry looking like a dream too in that elegant shirt and trousers. The ring on your finger shines as you close the necklace around your neck, Harry’s eyes catching the light of it, “You’re stunning, darling.” He utters on your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses there, hand reaching his cheek.

And you know that if you don’t put an halt to that, you will never leave this house. Because sure, you spent the night lost in each other but it’s never enough with him, and you too could never get enough of him.

“Come on, babe, let’s go.” You say, “We still have tonight, you know?” And he ducks his head onto your neck, breathing in your perfume, and declaring his defeat right after when he leaves your shoulder, and taking the passes from the couch in the living room, as you reach him, checking if you have everything and putting that pass around your neck, even matching your dress.

The atmosphere at the track is buzzing, sun shining high on you as you take your seats, nervously checking the time, and once again squeezing Harry’s hand as the cars are lining up on the grid before the start, anxious for your driver on pole position. You hold your breath and the screen shows the clean start, everyone getting through the first corners and soon the thundering of the engines reaches your sector, your pulse so strong at seeing the raw speed, imprinting in your brain these moments, enjoying them fully.

78 laps are a lot, and the race lasts even more given a couple of yellow flags and even a red one, heart jumping in your chest hoping it wasn’t your diver, who instead gets blissfully through all of that, still holding his position, lap after lap.

And it is in the last lap that you realise you’re really about to witness your driver winning at your race, and seeing him crossing the finish line makes you cry tear of joy, failing to believe how lucky you got to be here and to witness his win right before your eyes, Harry at your side looking just as thrilled as you. A river of emotions washes over you, this weekend having the most perfect ending, so many dreams having become true.

You’ve always wondered how it would feel to see all of this in real life, and now you can tell that it feels like being on cloud nine, like walking on a cloud for the rush of joy flooding your veins.

Leaving the circuit after is quite hard, having to leave behind this magical place that has delivered to you so many new memories, keeping Harry close to you and still having that glimpse of tears in your eyes.

Maybe it’s all the adrenaline of having seen your favourite driver on the top step of the podium, maybe it’s the happiness fuelling your body, emotions running high, but you can’t help but leaning on him as you’re finally back at the villa, kissing him as the golden light of the sunset is making him look even more gorgeous.

You kiss him breathless, as he lets you both into the house closing the door behind you and one second after you’re pressed against the wood of it, his hand reaching the hem of the dress and starting to trail it over your thigh, grabbing your skin; hands get lost in his curls, as he leaves wet kisses on your neck, and you’re sure he can feel your pulse strong there, lips burning on your ignited skin, having to fight the urge to fall on your damn knees for the way he’s making you so weak.

“Harry…” you exhale, as his hands are going behind your thighs before finally lifting you up, and taking you upstairs in his arms, keeping on kissing him, and you don’t even know how me manages to get you both to the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with you sitting on his lap, straddling him.

His hands are quick on the back of your dress, letting fall off from your shoulders and you leave him just for a moment, to let it fall onto the floor, then going back to sitting on him, arms around his shoulders, as you tangle your fingers through his hair, kissing him again and breathing him in.

“Should we have our own race?” You tease, voice low close to his ear, kissing him on his neck, him throwing his head back a little to let you give it all to him, “And see who’s gonna win?”, he whispers after kissing you.

“Oh we’re both gonna win.”

You’ve found him pacing in the living room, lights off.

You can see the outline of the shape of his nose, as he once again takes other few steps, lowering his head this time.

“Well, I couldn’t feel you in bed anymore, so I got up.” You shrug, now standing by one of the couches, gripping your hand there.

He doesn’t answer though to your question, Joel simply nods and remains silent.

You let him take his time, just watching him curiously and trying to take any hint.

No laboured breath, no trembling from his hands.

He’s alright, you think, and that’s already a relief.

You keep quiet, thinking it might help to have someone just being present with him.

“Wanna go for a ride?” He says out of the blue, stopping his pacing.

And god only knows what time it is when you get outside in the humidity, holding yourself in one of his hoodies and getting into his truck.

“Where do you want to go?” You ask, Joel getting on the road, lights passing over you now in the silence of the night.

“Sometimes I would just go to a drive by and get some coffee.”

You nod, spending the rest of the trip in silence, glancing at his side profile every now and then. You haven’t been able to look properly at his eyes, and you realise that you don’t know if he’s cried.

When you get there he doesn’t even have to ask you to remember him your order.

“Alright, coffee for me,” he settles his coffee in the console in the middle, then handling you your drink, “And iced caramel macchiato with two extra shots of coffee for you.”

“Did I get it right?” He wonders, feeling your judgemental look.

But you break out giggling, “Yes, Joel, it’s the right one.”

He holds a hand on his chest, laughing with you, “You scared me for a moment there, imagine if I had gotten it actually wrong.”

“You could never, Joel, you know me far too well,” you giggle, taking a sip of the drink.

It’s true, he knows you so well and he can definitely remember your favourite colour, your favourite movies and songs, and your favourite coffee order of course; he cares way too much to ever forget any of that, just like you remember his favourite perfume, or the way he takes his coffee, way bitter than yours, never with sugar.

Joel gives you a smile, drinking then a bit his coffee, “I could never forget any of that.”

“So this is your usual night?” You ask, knowing that sometimes he would be up very late, as he would pick up the phone when you were calling him in the middle of the night, to hear his voice, to hear what would bring you safety.

“Well, sometimes yes.”

Never a man of many words, not out rudeness but just as way of being quieter, of not wanting to take up too much space.

“So you come here and then you go straight home? What’s the plan?” 

Joel sets the drink in the centre console, “Oh no, I keep drivin’ after, there’s actually a beautiful place where I usually go to,” he checks his old watch, “And in some hours we could be able to see the sunrise from there.”

“If you’re tired we can go home, though.” He rubs your knee, your thumb brushing on his hand.

“I’m alright, Joel, just keep driving.”

And Joel actually enjoys this so much, he enjoys driving at night, the world asleep and it feels like he’s the only one awake. He’s never shared these trips with anybody else, not even his previous partners would come with him.

But you do.

Of course you do, Joel thinks to himself as he’s taking a turn on the left, the material of the steering wheel smoothing under his palms. You’ve always enjoyed the night too, and staying up late. The late night calls, or even when you would be spending a night at his home and he had to bribe you in all the way to convince you to go to sleep.

Night owls, he remembers, that’s how people more active at night are called.

And maybe it’s because you too have always needed a little peace, that peace that only the night can bring.

And at night even the secrets come out from the hiding.

“You’ve asked me why I was up.” Joel brings up the topic again.

You nod from your seat, glazing at his side profile.

“Well, it- it’s been happenin’ the past few years. Ya know, I’ve been alone for quite a while, haven’t shared my house or my bed with anybody else,” he starts, keeping the speed steady on the long road.

“And at night I would just wake up, like my body was searching for something, like it was lacking someone.” He pauses for a moment, pondering if he did the right thing by telling you.

“I know it sounds weird, but you’ve asked and that’s the truth.”

He grips more the steering wheel, you can see the veins more prominent now.

“You would wake up because you were lonely.” You whisper, understanding what he meant.

You brush your thumb on his arm, “But now you’re not alone anymore, Joel, I’m right there next to you.”

Joel nods, bringing your hand to his lips to place a soft kiss there, while keeping his eyes on the rod, “I know, sweetheart, I know.”

“But this is new,” he continues, “You’ve been staying at mine just for a couple of weeks, I guess the body still keeps the count and old habits are hard to die.”

He turns one more time, the tyres hitting a pebbled surface, black hickory trees all around, until he reaches a more open place; the trees are left behind, reaching a clearing with an open view.

“We’ve arrived by the way,” he turns off the engine and he’s ready to leave the car when you gently grab his arm.

“Joel, wait,” you urge, “You know that you will leave these habits behind someday, because I’m going to stay.”

Joel’s look softens, leaning in for a kiss, cupping your cheek, “What have I even done to deserve you,” he whispers over your lips before kissing you again.

“Now let’s get out of the car, I wanna show you something.” 

You jump out of the car, the door closing echoing in the silence of the night.

“Look up, darlin’”.

And it’s beautiful, you don’t think you’ve ever seen stars being so bright and being so many. With all the lights of the city it is difficult to actually see them well, but here... here the sky is pitch black and the stars shine bright.

You stay both in front of the hood of the car, Joel pointing at the constellations.

Orion, Cassiopeia, Scorpius, Taurus.

“And look, what star is that?” Joel points a very bright one.

You touch the charm on your necklace.

“The North Star.” You utter, staring up in awe.

“Yep, the most beautiful one.”

But Joel is not looking up anymore. he’s looking at you. You’re the brightest star to him.

You can feel his look on you, and you finally turn at him, Joel ducking a bit his head because he’s been caught staring.

You smile at him, leaning onto him.

Joel slouches his arm around your shoulders, kissing your forehead.

You’ve always loved stars, he knows that, you would always stay with your look up in the sky at night, pointing at them.

Joel remembers that time you found a book about space at his house, light steps reaching him in the kitchen with the book in your arms, which looked even bigger than you.

“Oops here ya go, darling.” He had said, catching it just in time before it would land on the floor.

“What’s this, Joel?” You had asked, sitting at the kitchen table, tracing the colourful planets on the cover.

“Can ya read that for me?” He asked, pointing at the title, knowing that you were learning to read.

“It says our solar system.”

“Yes, good job!”

And that is how you spent the whole afternoon going through those pages, looking at the photos, Joel occasionally helping you with the reading and with understanding what everything meant.

“Why does it say that the sun is old? And there are so many zeroes,” You had pointed at a line next to an image of the sun.

Joel was sat at the table with you, having forgotten about anything else he had to do in the house.

“Here, look,” he had pointed at the long number, “It says that it’s four and a half billion years old, and yeah that’s a lot of zeroes! But it will still live for a veeery long time.”

That afternoon you learnt all about the life stages of the stars and the names of the planets from the solar system, Joel patiently helping you with all the harder parts to read.

At night you had fallen asleep on the couch with the book still beside you, still open on a page about stars, and that’s the day you’ve fallen in love with them.

“You gave me this.” You utter from his shoulder.

“What, babe?”

“This passion for the stars, it’s your making.” You smile, Joel feeling a warmth in his chest.

You pause for a moment, “You know someday we should go to the planetarium,”

And Joel lights up, “Yeah I would love that.”

“It’s a date,” you whisper to him, smiling over his lips as you lean in for another kiss.

Ending up kissing the man of your dreams under the stars? Life really has some plans of its own.

“So have you ever taken someone else here?” The curiosity creeps in, tilting your head at him.

And Joel knew this question was coming.

“No, darlin’,” he shakes his head, back of his fingers stroking your cheek, “You’re the first one.” He lets out, whispering, giving this secret to the night.

“You’re gonna ask me why now,” he precedes you, leaning more onto the hood of the car, looking up at the stars.

“But I know why.”

He turns at you, holding himself in the old plaid shirt he’s wearing, your studying look on him and he feels like you’re reading his mind.

“This whole thing, the trip with the car at night and coming here when there’s nobody else is your... it’s your peace, and it feels more intimate than anything else.” Your voice low, just in case the wind could take your words and bring them away.

Joel achingly nods, he might know you well but you know him well too.

“That still doesn’t explain why bringing me here.” You take his chin, parting your lips and going for another kiss, “What makes me so special, Joel?”

Joel is way too gone for you, the list would be so long.

“You’re my girl.” He simply lets out, drunk in your touch on his cheek.

“Don’t try that, there’s more.” 

“You’re my babygirl.” The words roll off his tongue easily, arm swinging around your waist.

You smile over his neck, kissing his pulse, “All of this feels more intimate than anything else?” You reach his ear, and flirting under the stars might be another first.

“This feels more intimate than having me spreading my legs for you on your couch?” You recall that first time, Joel’s body visibly trembling at the flashback.

“Or than me calling you daddy?” You tease, and you bump onto his unforgiving sweatpants and he’s gonna be in some trouble really soon.

Joel grips his hand onto your hip, grabbing the hoodie.

He curses under his breath, hating himself for the way he involuntary thrusts towards you, bumping onto you.

“Oh no, what is happening here?” Your voice naive on purpose, reaching for his sweatpants, your hand gently palming him.

And he’s hard as hell.

First time touching him like this and it’s happing out in the open, the stars being the witnesses.

Joel’s hand falls on the hood of the car with a thud, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groans when you’re not moving your hand, just letting it there over him.

And this is a lot of fun, you think while smiling amused by his reaction.

“Is there any chance that someone is gonna come here?” You ask, Joel shaking his head, almost unable to speak.

You’re bringing him to his knees and he still has all his clothes on.

“Uh no, ‘s just a-“ he takes a breath, as your thumb is going over his length, two layers of tissue between your fingertip and him and yet it’s driving him over the edge.

“- a hidden place, never met anyone here.”

“Oh that’s a relief.” You let out, your hand going under the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them just the right amount to touch him more closely this time.

Joel almost jumps at the touch, it’s been a while.

He thrusts against your hand, “Darlin’, what are you doin’?” His eyes wild.

“You know what I’m doing,” your hand properly closing around him, Joel’s head coming forward, exhaling a moan.

The thrill of doing something like that out in the open runs in your veins, biting your lip at the thought.

“We’re gonna have to pull these off, don’t you think?” Your breathing over his neck, closing your lips over his pulse.

Joel nods, obedient like you’ve never seen him.

You roll them down just a little more, just to see him in his boxers, your hand still placed over him.

“Are you scared of me seeing you, Joel?” Your other hand taking his chin, letting his look on you, his lips parted as he’s trying so hard to think about a response.

Which shouldn’t be that difficult, but his brain is a puddle, a place where he’s responding to your touch only.

He eventually shakes his head, “No, ‘m okay with that.”, wishing his voice sounded less like a moan.

Your fingers start to trail a little away from his boxers, not without a complain from Joel.

Your fingers curls on his abdomen, shifting his plaid shirt, and then going down until his trail, tracing the path until the waistband of the boxers.

“Let me see him now,” your voice dripping in desire, twitching at the idea of holding him properly and finally seeing him.

Joel curses under his breath the moment your hand slips under the waistband, only to pull those boxers down.

And it’s been a while since he’s been looked at, it’s been a while since his last partner.

Your jaw slacks open when he’s finally in full display, and your imagination could have never given it justice.

He’s big, with a vein crossing it, already able to tell that’s pulsing like crazy.

Joel has flinched away for a moment, instinctively reaching for your hand, his trembling fingers wrapping around your palm.

“It’s alright, Joel, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” You make sure to say, brushing your thumb over his knuckles, and he’s never felt exposed like this.

He doesn’t understand the sudden trembling, he doesn’t understand the way he’s pulsing like he’s never been touched by a woman.

But the moment your hand gently wraps around him, everything clicks.

Everything becomes clearer and blurrier at the same time. 

It’s because it’s you.

His chest raises and falls quickly the moment you start moving your hand, slowly stroking him, just to see what he really likes.

His vein pulses under your palm, and your hand becomes sleek in his precome, wetting your hand to give him even more pleasure.

“How does it feel, Joel?”

And Joel thinks he might be on another whole universe, but nothing could prepare him for what you have in mind for him.

He nods, like a reflex more than a proper answer, “Just so good, sweetheart, you’re so good to me.” 

You smile up at him, trying to look away from his length, otherwise you will get on your knees in a second.

“Yeah right, Joel, now imagine where else you would feel really good.” You start teasing him.

You reach his ear, “Imagine you were thrusting not in my hand, but in me.” Joel shuddering already at the thought.

“Imagine to sink in me and stretch me with this big boy,” your hand leaving his just to hover on his hip, trying to keep him somewhat still.

Joel grunts, thrusting so much in your hand to the point his body hunches over yours, that his head falls onto your shoulder.

“You would get in so well, I would be so wet for you, daddy.” 

Joel fucking lose it, his body hunches more over you, shocked by a convulsion of pleasure, a lightning in his system, moaning loudly and having no control left over himself.

Your hand gets covered in his warm cum, getting it on his shirt and the on your hoodie and sweatpants too.

It’s been so long, it’s all he can think of, your hand still safely wrapped around him.

Your free hand reaches behind his neck, now leaving him kisses over his beard, “You’re so gorgeous, all for me and all so gorgeous.”

Joel whimpers, even more desperately when you leave him, when he’s left without touch.

You messily clean your hand on the hoodie, after all it’s his hoodie, and all of sudden Joel is cupping your face.

His warm lips are over yours in a second, demanding them, breathing you, breathing in the woman that just made him come under the stars.

He leaves you breathless and leaves you with the wanting for more.

But Joel is pulling up his boxers and sweatpants, that vision disappearing from you.

“Joel,” you whine, the older man wanting to attribute that to tiredness and not a desire for him.

“You know you’ve been the first to touch me after such a long time, uh sweetheart?”

“Well, I’m glad,” you let out in a breath, and now that you’re not focused on him anymore only you’re noticing how wet you got.

You might be dripping through your panties and sweatpants, closing your legs to stop feeling it but getting the exact opposite feeling instead.

“Oh honey, we should take care of ya now.”

His hand hovers your thigh, soon getting it on your centre, his palm over you.

“She’s gettin’ really wet, right babygirl?” He coos, his voice casting the ultimate spell on you.

You give him a nod, not able to lie, he’s probably feeling it all.

“I’ve got an idea.” He says, taking your hand and you follow him blindly until the door of the backseats, opening it and taking out a big blanket.

He soon closes the door again, looking at him a bit confused.

“I have a truck, let’s make good use of it.” He winks at you, and you never thought that something like that would be so hot.

“All for you, princess.” 

And god, you could come just at the way he treats you, as he’s showing you the back of the truck open the back and the blanket draped on its floor.

“What do you even have in mind,” you utter, smiling and being so drunk in him already.

“Just a princess treatment, now lay down for me.” He brushes your back, taking then your hand and helping you up.

He even moves you as he pleases, until your legs are dangling from the truck.

Joel sets himself between your legs, your arms swinging around his shoulders as he hovers you.

He hesitates to kiss you, just letting go of all uncertainties the moment he sees your blissful look.

And there is so much passion in the way he kisses you, balancing himself with a hand next to your head.

Your fingers brush on his peppered beard, that soft hair under your palms, until he leaves you; his wet lips go over your neck, breathing in your heat.

And your hands get lost in his hair the moment he goes lower, kisses over your hoodie, making you giggle when he reaches your tummy.

It doesn’t take long before he takes off your sweatpants, now tracing your leg with his kisses, soft pecks being placed on your skin.

Your start pulling off your panties before he can even think of that, Joel smiling over your thigh and helping you taking them off, placing them on top of the sweatpants next to you.

You push your heels on the edge of the truck, your converse anchoring there.

“She’s so pretty,” Joel sighs, his thumb exploring your folds, separating them and crouching down to give you a better look, “She’s so wet for me, darlin’.” 

You already whimper at that, Joel’s thumb exposing your clit, his pad doing precise movements over there, precise circles as if he has memorised what you need.

He sucks a bit the inside of your thigh, making you widen your legs, kicking a bit your leg and he has the most satisfied look on his face.

Joel kisses your skin until he meets your centre, looking up at you before his thumb circle over your folds, leaving place for his warm and wet tongue.

He licks and sucks, alternating them in an excruciating shot of pleasure, relentlessly going over your clit; he feels it becoming more swollen, all for him and him only, your entrance begging for something, closing and opening around nothing.

He leaves you to take a breath, panting but he could never get tired of it, kneeling down and bringing his hands behind your knees, calloused palms claiming them.

“Legs over my shoulders now, angel.”

You obey blindly, and Joel pulls up your legs keeping both his hands on the back of the thighs, digging his thumbs onto your soft skin.

You can feel the humid air hitting you, before Joel tongue swirls again over you, soft and decisive at the same time, wanting to take everything from you.

You try to move your legs, to widen them to have more, but Joel keeps you in place, sinking his tongue in you as to give you a response, your moans becoming louder, thanking that nobody will hear that.

Your whimpers and moaning are all he needs, he knows it won’t take long.

You’re dripping over his mouth, his moustache and soon over his chin too.

There is something not so elegant about the way he’s circling his tongue around your lips, before taking your clit between his lips, curling them and sucking on it.

You have to hold back a scream, even though you know nobody would hear it.

“You should- you should fill her good, daddy.” You moan, thinking of having that cock spreading you open. 

But all you feel is his finger draping over your lips, tracing their shapes, before dipping into the wetness, making you whine both in pleasure and frustration.

“I want you, Joel, I want him.” You pledge, almost on the verge of tears, moving messily against his mouth.

And that’s all that Joel needs to know that you’re not ready for that, not tonight.

He lets go of your legs, just placing them again over his shoulders, his finger going in again and it’s so easy that it’s frustrating to you.

Your hand wraps around his wrist, trying to pull him closer, but Joel remaining steady, just dipping more his finger, watching your mouth open in pleasure.

“Yeah that’s right, babygirl, that’s all ya need.” 

He lets another finger in, stretching you so well, his thumb going to press and circle over your clit now that his mouth is not gracing you anymore. Joel keeps thrusting his fingers, all coaxed so well, almost taking them out only to push them back in.

He curls them inside, pulsing inside you, hitting your sweet spot.

“There ya go princess, daddy knows what ya need.” 

That phrase alone sends your body into shock, thrusting over his fingers, a series of “Joel” and “daddy” screamed into the night.

Joel lets you come down from it before taking his fingers out, rubbing your hip and your waist, before you get up and reach for him.

He hugs you tight, wrapping the blanket around you at best, kissing your cheek, your neck, your forehead.

“My good girl,” his sweet words reach you between a kiss and the other.

He strokes your back covered by the blanket, feeling your ribcage still expanding quickly, “You’re alright, my angel, you’re alright.”

You close your hands behind his neck, your legs wrapped around his torso, and your vision going a little blurry for the tiredness.

He lifts you up, clutching more your hands on his neck, taking some of his curls in your fingers.

“Let’s get into the car.” He utters, swinging open the door of the backseat, where he easily lay you down.

Your panties fall from the blanket, Joel taking them before they can touch the floor of the car.

“Up, babe,” he lets your panties on your thighs, thanking that you’ve lifted your hips and he can pull those panties up on you, “Good girl,” he kisses your hip, searching then for the sweatpants.

He pulls them up too, then wrapping you again in the blanket.

It wouldn’t be too safe to drive with you laying in the backseat, so he helps you to get in the passenger seat, closing then the door and quickly reaching his seat.

The last thing you see before falling asleep is the orange rays of the sunrise falling on his profile, bathing him in a warm light.

“Babe, we’re home.”

You feel his warm hand on your shoulder, slowly blinking your eyes open.

The weak sunlight makes you squint a little, adjusting to that after the darkness.

“Was that all a dream?” You stretch your limbs, the blanket falling from your shoulders.

And Joel shakes his head, kissing your forehead.

“Definitely not a dream, darlin’.”

And you both think that you’re so ready for a life together that always feels like daydreaming, that’s all you will ever need.

You utter those words, and his look tells you that he hadn’t heard you, that he thought he was still alone and he had time to clean all of that.

“Nothing, sweetheart.” But his eyes deny the sincerity in his words, a veil of worrying, a dark shadow hovering his face, betraying him; it is not the first time that he comes back home in that state, and it won’t be the last.

“Let me see.” You soothe as you’re approaching him, his magnetic look on you studying what is gonna be your next move.

But he doesn’t expect you to cup his cheek and brush away some blood, his or not, you don’t know and you shouldn’t care; there’s a cut on his lip too, that keeps on bleeding, blood staining the collar of his shirt too. What concerns you more though is the cut on his arm, even though you can’t see it properly, covered by the shirt sleeve.

You take his hand, making him follow you into the kitchen even though he’s reluctant as hell, remaining stiffened next to you, but it takes a lot more to scare you.

You unbutton the sleeve, carefully rolling it up, his look diverting from the wound and actually not even looking at you; you sigh, taking the aid kit from the kitchen cabinet, uncapping the disinfectant and wetting some gauzes with it, before tapping it over the wound. The contact would make anyone else flinch, anyone but Dave, who stays there like a marble statue, like his wound is not real. The wound bleeds a little more and you have to clean it all around it. Once blood would repel you, now instead you have to look at it far too often, because that is Dave’s life, something that you didn’t choose, not knowing what awaited you.

Soon the wound is all patched up, cleaned and covered with a big bandaid, Dave turning a bit his arm to look at it, “Thank you.” Dry voice, as you get the an ice bag from the freezer, taking his chin between your fingers and making him lower just a little.

He lightly hisses, if there is something that he doesn’t like it’s the cold, but you have to keep that bag over his lip, “What have you done?” You ask, still the ice pressed on him, but running your fingers through his hair, a gesture to which he closes his eyes, letting out a big sigh.

“It’s nothing, darling.” Him and his vague answers, “The other ones got it worse than me, at least I’m still in this world.”

That sends you chills over your spine, picturing him doing all of that, and it doesn’t give you the horror that would give to anyone else; you’ve never seen him in action, never seen how he actually slaughter throats, stabs and shoots with a face dried of all the emotions. Well, maybe just one emotion remains, the pleasure he feels in fighting and having blood splattering on him, the pleasure of having control not of things, but over someone else. Anyone would feel threatened by that look, those eyes that hide God only knows what scenes.

Anyone but you.

Your hand reaches behind his head, cradling it, and looking deep into those eyes, searching for an answer about what happened.

“There will ever be a last time? A day when you’re gonna have enough of this?” You caution, a thumb circling behind his neck, and he scoffs at the question, flinching because of the ice and you put it down on the kitchen counter.

“Why even bother asking if you know the answer, uh?” He bites back, his hand reaching your wrists, and the soft touch clashes with his next words, “It’s never gonna happen.” 

You look at his wound, now covered, thinking of all the other wounds you have patched, all the smell of blood that could fill your nose, and the scars that he has on his body. Even his neck carries scars and his arm is scarred by his previous job, still asking how he could still lean into that kind of stuff, what is gonna make him finally stop.

“Dave, it’s just that-”, Your fingers now on the back of his neck, hoping to ease him,

“Just what?” He cuts you off, his look darkening, “Do you like the good life? You like this house and the cars that we drive?” He shifts his hold on your arm, tightening it when you’re not giving him an answer. “You like the fancy dresses and the expensive lingerie that I can take off you?”

“Answer. Do you like it or not?” He roars, tugging your arm, and that demanding voice shouldn’t turn you on the way it instead does.

“I do.” You let out in a breath, loving and hating the life that you have built with him, the turns that your life took since you’ve met him.

“Good,” he eases the tight on your arm, passing his thumb over the pain that he caused you, “Then you have to be quiet about it.” 

The back of your fingers caress him behind his neck, as you nod to his words. 

“And from where this innocence comes from? Don’t act like thinking about what I do doesn’t turn you on.” 

You bite your lip, “You want to know what I have done because secretly you enjoy hearing that, right?”

And still there isn’t a right answer to that, well, the right answer would be that no, you don’t like that. And yes, that would be the morally right answer that everyone would give, but for you it wouldn’t be true, you would be lying.

His other hand reaches your hip, thumb pressing onto your skin, “Oh you want to hear that so bad, but your inner moral compass tells you no, tells you that you should be a better person than me.” He hisses, and after that he lands a kiss on your inner arm, a gentleness that betrays his words.

“But you’re not, you’re not a better person than me and you know that.” 

He whispers over your skin, “You know, I did it all alone today, no help from anyone else. I lured them, them making the mistake of thinking I was on their side. Then,” he lands another kiss, “Then I killed them, one by one. One shot, one stabbed with the knife, and the other one with a glass of a shattered bottle. I saw the bleeding, I saw the wounds, and no one will ever think that it was me. Everything went so smooth, even too much, and I got out with just a little cut, nothing compared to theirs.” 

Shivers cross your body, like someone was blowing cold air over you, but your heartbeat rises and you know that he’s right.

You shake your head, more to your thoughts than to his words, “Dave…” 

“Oh you didn’t like that? I went too soft on them?” 

And you should hate him, loathe him.

“You want me to believe that hearing about me in control is not turning you on? That you don’t enjoy thinking about me showing all my strength? How I can shove someone across the room in a heartbeat? How I haunt them down?” 

Your eyes might have darkened as his, your chest raising and falling at a quicker rhythm.

“So if I were to raise your skirt and pull down your panties they would be all nice and dry, uh sweetheart?” He teases, and you squeeze your eyes at that thought.

He leaves your arm, you placing your hand over his bicep, lightly grabbing it.

And before you can say anything, Dave has turned you, now your back facing his chest, an arm around your waist and his hand going down until the skirt, not hesitating and going for the hems of it, lifting it up and caressing you over your thigh.

You try to move in his arm, trying to tell him that all of that is not true and that-

He doesn’t wait any longer, he wants his answer, and he shuts you up by sliding his hand down in your wet panties, you exhaling just a “Fuck.” And you can feel his smirk behind your neck. You wrap your hand around his wrist, holding it but nothing is gonna stop him now.

“See how good you are? You’re just like me.” He hisses, warm breathing now on your neck. His fingers move over your folds, pressing his thumb over your clit.

“You’re so fucking wet, and you wanted me to believe how innocent you are. You didn’t say a thing, but your cunt is telling me everything.” He whispers like a devil, and you move against his palm, but he immediately holds you more with his arm, “Still, stay still.”

You obey and he keeps circling over your clit, your hand still wrapped around his wrist, pushing him more down.

But as you push, he retrieves his hand making you whine, as he brings his fingers over your lips, “Open.”

You part your lips and you suck on his fingers, “Good girl.” He praises, taking them out and bringing his attention back to your panties; he pulls them to one side, his flat hand hitting you as he spanks you there, taking your breath away.

A second slap hits, directly on your clit, making you cry out, your wetness though betraying you, and as you move in his arm you feel his bulge behind you, and that only makes the situation worse.

“What did I tell you?” He cups you, “That I have to stay still.” You let out, ragged breath. “Exactly,” another slap, to which you fight the urge to move, not even daring to breathe, “You’re so eager for my cock, I know, but I will give you that when I decide so.” 

“Now can you be a good girl for daddy?” He coos over your neck, kissing you on your pulse.

You nod quickly, “Yes, yes.”

“Yes, what?” He says, his index going up and down on your folds, your legs already weak at that.

“Yes, daddy.” You exhale, him giving you a lighter slap once again, and you bite your lip, grabbing the arm that is holding you over your waist.

“There you go.” A kiss pressed onto your cheek, as he pushes your legs a bit wider with his hand, caressing your inner thighs.

He massages your clit, and you would love to move against his hand, but you stay put, breathing deeply.

His fingers go over your folds, feeling how wet you are, and he lands his middle finger over your centre, easing his fingertip in and nothing more.

You hiss, and he kisses your neck, “Oh do you want more?” 

“Please, daddy, yes. I- I want you to fuck me with your fingers.” You describe, knowing how much he likes it when you do that, when you tell him all the dirty things that you want him to do to you.

“My good slut.” He says, taking out his fingertip, only to press again in and going way deeper, stretching you all the way.

It burns with pain for the way he pushed so strongly and so suddenly, but it mixes with pleasure, the addicting way that he has of creating the rhythm that works for you; his thumb keeps circling on your clit, your heart feeling like it could explode.

“Gonna add one more, you want that, right?” He asks, the hand holding you on your hip caressing you.

“Yes, Dave.” He lets slip the fact that you called him by his name, and he stops moving the finger already in only to push the other one in too, letting you adjust for a moment to them before moving them.

And once again, it hurts, but in that good way that you like, taking everything that he has to give you, those fingers curling inside you and making you let out a high pitched cry, body trembling for the pleasure.

The slapping noise of his fingers inside you is obscene, reflecting the words that he is whispering to your ear, “Yeah you like that? Being all stretched for me and ready to take my cock?” 

Your hand keeps grabbing the arm around you, nails digging into his skin, but Dave doesn’t mind that, for him it means that he’s doing exactly what he has to do.

His palm keeps rubbing on your clit as he pushes in his fingers, and all the wetness is insane, the thought of wanting to come slowly crossing your mind, but delaying it knowing that he’ll want you to ask for permission.

“Daddy, when can I come?” You pledge, biting your lip, him kissing your shoulder, “You want to come right now?” 

“Yes.” You just utter, thinking of formulating any kind of phrase is simply too much right now, your brain can’t clearly work properly with those fingers inside you not giving you peace and all that friction on your clit.

“Alright then, come now,” he grunts, his hand speeding up his movements rubbing over your clit no stop, and it burns like hell and your knees are falling apart, body begging to lay down, but his arm keeps you up and close to him, always being still while being engulfed by him.

“Come for me, come for your daddy.” Obscene sounds leaving your mouth, as you clench around his fingers, pain shooting in your body together with a flow of pleasure igniting your veins and all your senses.

“There you go, babygirl, there you go.” He whispers over your neck, as you release completely in his hold, body shaking in the aftermath.

You pant, out of breath for that rollercoaster, for him being a master at this.

His movements come to a halt, retrieving slowly his fingers from inside you and instead of giving relief, it hurts more to be empty than to be stretched; you whimper at that, him shushing you with kisses all over your cheek, before putting your panties as they were, even adjusting your skirt.

He embraces you in a hug from behind, now both his arms around you, also his wounded arm, where the big bandaid and gauzes are holding on even after all that movement.

“Breathe, darling, breathe,” he coos, a hand over your chest, feeling your racing heartbeat.

“That’s it, breathe in… and out.” And your body responds so well to his words, as your breathing slowly goes back to normal, leaving you without forces, still up only thanks to his arms.

“Dave I need to sit or to lay down, please.” You utter, and he doesn’t need to hear anything more.

He turns you and lifts you up over the kitchen isle, the cold marble seeming to ease all that burning and pain.

“There you go.” He says, handing you also a glass of water. It is cold and it eases all the heat that you’re feeling.

“Thank you.” Your voice hoarse; his face is now dangerously close to yours, and you cup his cheek, cannot helping but bringing him in for a kiss. And it will always amaze you how a person like that is capable of kissing you with such delicacy, even if two minutes before he was thrusting his fingers inside you with no regrets.

Just the thought of that makes you tingle, almost closing your legs.

His hands are placed on the marble, then one reaches your cheek too, brushing his thumb there.

And you try not to, but you hiss for the pain that you can still feel.

“Where does it hurt?” He innocently asks, you know damn well where, you think, but not daring to say those words.

“Uh- here.” You point at your skirt, now back in place and you ask yourself for how much longer.

“Your little cunt hurts?” Dave coos, rolling up the skirt, “We have to do something about it.” He says in all seriousness. 

And someone else would think of some cream or some kind of oil, but not him.

He pulls down the panties, dropping them on the floor, and then parting your legs with his hands, hovering them.

And you want to close them, but the cold air is actually easing the pain.

“Yeah, I can see that.” He breathes, looking at you all exposed now, “Poor thing, does it hurt a lot?” He asks, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

You silently nod anyway, keeping yourself propped on your elbows, too tired to properly sit.

“Well then, I know a way that is gonna help.” He devilishly says, the back of his fingers brushing down there, getting a whimper out of you, your hand reaching his wrist stopping him, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m not gonna use my fingers…” He comforts, taking your chin between his index and thumb, “I’m just gonna eat you out for a bit, alright?” His other hand smoothing on top of your thigh, and you hate how your body responds to him, shivering at that touch.

His hands grab your hips to make you shift closer to his face, smooth and cold marble under you.

He rolls up his sleeves, taking a glance at the bandages he has on his arm, before letting the back of his hands caress you again on both thighs, reaching the hems of your shirt, starting to unbuttoning it, until it is all done and he lets it fall from your shoulders.

A hand goes on your back, undoing your bra, and that too follows the same fate of the other clothes, ending on the floor. “Lay down, babe.” He instructs, letting your back meet the cold marble, and he starts kissing your neck, your hands falling through his hair, soft under your fingers.

He trails over your chest, kissing each breast, hands cupping them but slowly descending on your waist, his lips moving along his hands; the skirt meets the same fate of your other clothes, as he reaches your tummy and he leaves kisses on your hip, your hand searching for his; he holds your hand back for a moment, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it, so gently that it feels like another person.

He leaves your hand though, as you see him kneeling down, the kitchen isle actually being the perfect height for this; Dave keeps his promise to not touch you with his fingers, in fact he still lays kisses only to your inner thigh, replacing then his lips with his hands just anchoring under your thighs, so that he will keep you open as he prefers. Soon you feel the familiar wetness against you, his tongue flat starting to lick you, indulging though on your clit and you’re so overstimulated that it makes you whine out loud, him taking that as an encouragement and closing his lips around it, properly sucking it; you grab his hair, but nothing will keep him away from you now, not until you’re gonna come again probably.

Tongue swirls over your folds then, collecting all your wetness and it feels like heaven and hell at the same time when he pushes it inside you, now a proper scream leaving your lips; you can tell that he’s enjoying all of that, like the devil that he is, pushing even more only to take it away all of sudden, then pushing it again.

He then kisses you all over, his mouth all covered in you, “You’re so good.” He breathes, before diving in again, and you try to look down, but all you can see is his hair and your hand grabbing it.

His nose brushes against you too, and you try to move against him, Dave tightening his hold with his hands in response, “What were you trying to do?” But it is a rethoric question, he doesn’t want an answer, and he makes you bend your knees, raising them and pushing his hands on the back of your thighs, now keeping you even more open.

He gets up, just to have a better angle, and goes back to his making, you already over the edge and feeling the urge to close your legs, but you can’t, not with that hold.

He insists on your clit, feeling how you’re panting and knowing what buttons he has to push; this was supposed to ease the overstimulation, and well, it is making it worse, not being able to do anything and just taking it and taking it.

“Dave, I-”, but you’re so overwhelmed that you can’t say anything more.

“Come, babygirl, come again.” He utters, sucking on your folds and the on your clit again, your hands going to grab your breasts, pinching your own nipples, a violent shake making your body tremble against his, involuntarily moving against his mouth, and not even that makes him get away from your centre; he keeps on going, waiting for another shake to hit your body, a wave of pleasure so sudden that makes you scream his name, him finally leaving you.

A tear marks your cheek, him slowly releasing your legs from his hold, brushing his hands over your thighs, and you react even to that, everything being so much.

You’re so lost in everything that you barely notice his arms around your waist, pulling you up and seated on the isle, him still between your legs as he stands in front of it; a hand goes on the back of your head, making you lay it on his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat which calms you at least.

“There you go, breathe now.” 

Your body stays pliant against him, that warmth reassuring you, his perfume mixed with the smell of blood that you can still feel on his stained shirt.

You reach his shirt, holding it, hands going on his waist, him landing a kiss on top of your head, “Feeling good?” He checks in and well, now you feel like everything is fucking amazing, the aftermath of the orgasm leaving you in a state of haze.

“Yeah,” you mumble, feeling his thumb on your cheek, leaning onto the touch.

And all that proximity makes you notice his bulge, pressing against you, feeling him being so hard.

He raises your head, kissing you on your lips, hands cupping your cheeks and then brushing on your hair.

You dare to place your hand over his crotch, holding him through the tissue of his trousers, him exhaling a “Fuck.” over your lips.

“Feel that? That’s what you do to me.” He says, and you can’t help but thinking that he’s not done with you yet. And you don’t want him to be.

“I’ve almost come just by fingering you and eating you out, but you know damn well where I want to come.” 

There it is; you nod, and your cunt really shouldn’t be throbbing at the idea of having him fucking you after all of this.

As he kisses you again, you feel his hand reaching between your legs and he slowly pushes a finger inside you, making you moan on his lips, “Oh,” he coos, “You’re all warm and ready for daddy’s cock, aren’t you?” 

He undoes his belt, “Waiting to fill you up, making you come again, right sweetheart?” 

Your heartbeat betrays you, racing at the words, switching you on for the hundredth time today, like a flame.

Soon his finger is replaced by his big tip, making you hiss, “One last big stretch, you take me so well, darling.” He says, slightly moving but still not being inside you.

His arms are around you and your hands are grabbing his shoulders, his hair, literally anything that you can grab, as he finally pushes in, hating how you welcome him so well, confirming what he says.

“That’s my good girl,” he echoes, as you wrap your legs around him, keeping him even closer like that.

And it hits so good inside you, going deep just the right amount, that warmth and slight burn being just raw pleasure.

He thrusts deeply and decisive, and if he wasn’t holding you in his arms, he would have moved you on the isle, given the strength of his thrusts, taking away all your breath.

He moans when he feels you slightly tightening around him, one of his hands now reaching between you two to go rub his thumb against your clit.

The overstimulation comes back in full force, a high pitched scream leaving your lips, throwing your head back, and he dives on your neck, kissing you.

Every kiss equals a deeper thrust, building up a rhythm that is making you wetter than what you already were, asking yourself for a moment how it is possible that you got two orgasms and now you’re already chasing a third one, and honestly you could continue like that for the whole day.

“How is it, uh? You wanted this since you saw me with the blood on my shirt,” he says through his gritted teeth for the effort, “You were playing all innocent and-” another big and deep thrust catching your breath away, “And instead you just wanted to be fucked.” 

“Fuck, yes, daddy, yes.” You moan, your brain like a fog but still you really agree to his words that couldn’t be more true. 

“I knew it, I knew that you’re a little slut and you’re no better than me.” He hisses, big thrust hitting right your cervix and making your body shake.

“Now you’re gonna come again, uh? Third time in a row, because your daddy is just so fucking good at this.” His voice so deep but never as deep as the way he’s thrusting into you.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You repeat, feeling on another dimension, tightening around him, wanting him to release it all into you.

He keeps hitting right on that spot, and it just feels so good you would never want it to end actually, could even spend forever like this, lost in this pleasure.

“Gonna come, babygirl,” he groans, his fingers still moving on you and finally you tighten one last time around him, coming for the third time and it feels even better to have him come right away, warmth filling you.

You remain wrapped around him, pain and tiredness should be kicking in but they don’t, not when you got what you wanted.

Your moans mix together, unholy things leaving your lips as he still slightly thrusts, riding that orgasm and that pleasure.

“So good, so fucking good to me.” He moans, his hands caressing your back, your hands tight in his hair, keeping him still close to you, his lips kissing your cheek and then your neck.

It could have been five minutes later when he pulls out or thirty, you wouldn’t know, too lost in him, too addicted to his body.

There it is again, the feeling of being empty without him, as you clench around nothing, him chuckling at that view.

“Wish that you could see yourself right now.” His index reaches your centre, making you whimper, his finger falling between your folds and collecting his own come and yours mixed, “Actually outrageous and so beautiful at the same time,” he adds, wiping it on your thigh, even though you had already parted your lips waiting for him to feed it to you.

“Oh you wanted that?” He asks, brushing his thumb on your bottom lip, “Wanted to taste both me and you in your pretty mouth?”

You nod, keeping your lips parted and you whimper again when he presses his fingertip against you one more time, looking at his finger and then placing it on your bottom lip, waiting for you to suck on it.

You eagerly wrap your lips around it, sucking it and licking it, feeling the taste going down your throat, “That’s a good girl,” he praises, your lashes fluttering at that.

He then brushes his thumb over your cheek, pressing a kiss onto your forehead, “I love you, you know that?” 

You weakly smile, “I know,” your voice tired, “And I love you too, Dave.” 

He lands one more kiss now on your lips, back of his hand brushing over your arm, “Gonna take care of you now, alright?”

That is how he first pulls up his trousers, not closing his belt though, and actually taking off his shirt, working on the buttons quickly, before making you wear it.

It’s ripped on one arm, his own blood now dried up, so it still smells like blood, sweat and his perfume. And it is just perfect.

He buttons it up, being long enough to cover your thighs, “Alright, come here.” He utters, his hand grabbing your waist, you wrapping your legs around him as he lifts you from the kitchen isle, feeling that contact with his bare skin of his chest, warm and comforting.

He wants to lay you on the floor, but you tighten the grip on his hair with one hand, “Okay, okay,” he comforts, his arms holding you strongly, him actually forgetting about his wound, because the only thing he cares about is what you want. “I’m carrying you until the bathroom and we’re gonna have a warm shower, sounds good, darling?” 

You nod on his shoulder, and he kisses your cheek, now walking down the hallway until the bathroom.

“There you go, princess.” He lets out, landing you on the bathroom floor.

You stay there holding yourself in his shirt, as he opens the hot water in the shower, getting then rid of his clothes; he goes to unbutton the shirt that you’re wearing now, letting it fall on the floor, among his clothes.

“Come here,” his hand inviting you into the shower, the warm water hitting your shoulders.

And all that roughness gets lost with the flow of the water running on you both, his hands spreading soap over your body, avoiding your centre as you can do that by yourself, no need for more stimulation from him.

You do the same with him, rising on your tiptoes to reach his shoulders.

And it’s sweet, the way he then embraces you in a hug, kissing you on your forehead, “You’re the most precious thing in my life.” He says, and you smile, knowing that despite the fighting that you have sometimes with him, the clashing that this life brings to you… the love is real, all the feelings are real and he would kill for you.