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peter parker’s never kissed anyone, and pretending to do it in a closet was just to spare him the humiliation. teaching him the basics? innocent enough. until he starts learning how to touch, how to beg, and how to make you forget it was ever pretend (completed)
genres: college au, fake-dating, friends w. benefits
notes: contains smut! block the tag below to not get it on ur feed! but whew. tony stark and the avengers are alive i say as they drag me back into the white room… set around christmas time bc i like the vibes lol
honestly this is the most invested i've been in a series in SUCH a long time! i love this sm - its hot, its sweet, wonderfully written. i binged this story so damn fast 🖤
In this house we love cheeky Bob. #118! ("S-Stop leaving marks on my neck. I have a presentation first thing in the morning.” “Then I get to leave marks anywhere below the neck?”)
18+ MDNI
The conference had been on your calendar for the better part of a year, and for the last two weeks you occupied your time with finessing your PowerPoint, refining your notes, and running mock Q&A sessions with Ava. Now, unfortunately, you just had to decide on the right outfit, which was not your expertise; you’d rather spend the evening bashing your head against the Riemann Hypothesis. It just seemed like everything fit a little weird. Too tight. Odd length. Clownish color. You were either trying too hard or not hard enough. You studied yourself in the mirror, twisting this way and that. So far, this dress seemed like the best candidate, professional but still age appropriate and flattering.
A frustrated grunt escaped you as Bob slipped into the bedroom. His eyes widened at the sight of your reflection and the formfitting dress, gaze lingering on the plunging neckline. You swore the overhead light glowed a bit brighter suddenly.
You smoothed your hands over your waist nervously. “Too much? It’s too much, isn’t it? Nothing else really fits…”
Bob crossed the room to join you at the mirror. It was late, and he had just come from the bathroom, hair combed back, teeth brushed, a pair of sweatpants low on his hips. His hands landed on your hips, and he leaned in to kiss the side of your neck, eyes glued to yours in the mirror. “What? No. No, you look…”
His eyes glowed faintly, gold and then blue.
“I’ve never seen you in this before.”
You shook your head, your eyes fluttering shut from the pressure of his lips moving over your shoulder and up your neck. “You know I hate dressing up.”
Bob smiled against your skin. “Yeah, but…” He inched up slyly against you, pressing his hips against your back, hands closing over yours on your stomach. “Babe, you look hot.”
Your eyes snapped open. “Oh. Hm. That’s not good.”
“It’s great.”
“No, shit, it isn’t,” you sighed, slumping forward. “I don’t want to look hot, I want to look professional, and…trustworthy. Like I know what I’m talking about.”
“Mmhm.” You could tell he wasn’t listening, eyes downcast, his mouth lingering over the pulse in your neck, his tongue rolling gently against your skin.
“I mean, I’ll be lecturing on Lagrangian dynamics, not—” You jerked your head away from him, frowning. “Bob.”
“What?” His hands tightened over yours, possessive. “Just showing my appreciation. You know, I had a crush on this one math teacher in high school? She would wear stuff like this. Drove us crazy. Think I only passed ‘cos I had perfect attendance…” He laughed, his breath skittering across your bare neck, down your cleavage. “Maybe I should come to this lecture. Learn a thing or two.”
You snorted, watching his hair slip from behind his ears as he nosed against your throat, mouth sucking softly against you, his eyes closing in lost pleasure as he tasted you. “Somehow I don’t think you’d come away remembering much about scalar energies.”
“Nope. Too into staring at your boobs,” he teased, nibbling your neck. “Might not be as smart as my genius girlfriend, but I know a thing or two about energy.”
The lights in the bedroom cut out, plunging you both into darkness.
You gasped, the zipper on the back of the dress clicking softly as he started to drag the toggle down your spine. In the dark, you felt the heat of his body more keenly, the drag of his fingers as they scooped back around to your front, easing the fabric of the dress forward. When the lights came on again, his hands were cupping your bare breasts. It was a mouthwatering image, so good, in fact, that it almost made you miss the darker smudge on your neck where his lips and teeth had been rupturing the blood vessels under your welted skin.
“Bob.”
Oh my God. This was mortifying. Dr. Bruce Banner, your personal hero, was going to turn up to your long-awaited lecture and see the newest member of the Avengers in a sexed up dress covered in hickeys like a horny teenager.
“Mmf.” Bob didn’t share your concerns about propriety. He just moved lower, attaching like a floppy-haired lamprey to the higher ridge of your shoulder. Shit, shit, shit, he was going to make another one.
“S-Stop leaving marks on my neck. I have that presentation first thing in the morning,” you squealed, trying to tear yourself out of his grasp. He finally stopped, eyes meeting yours again in the mirror. Heat filled you from top to bottom at his mischievous expression.
“Then I get to leave marks anywhere below the neck?”
“Bob.”
“Mm,” he hummed thoughtfully, kissing your temple, then your cheek, smirking. “I’m not hearing ‘no.’”
He had your number, the cheeky bastard, he always did. You were just forming up the strength to give him that no when his thumbs and forefingers closed around your nipples, pinching and tugging, drawing out the sensitive peaks until you couldn’t think about anything but those strong, loving hands…
“Fine, yes,” you murmured, shivering as he groaned against your ear. “Anywhere the light touches is off limits, Simba,” you teased, bopping him on the nose as he spun you until you were face to face in the mirror. He pulled your arms out of the sleeves and pushed until the dress pooled at your feet, then dropped to his knees with an eagerness that tugged at your heart. How could you deny him anything?
“You’ve been so busy,” he said, as if reading your mind. It really had been too long since you had quality time together; the lecture had been eating up all of your spare minutes. He kissed from the inside of your knee upward, the slight scratch of his shaved down stubble igniting against the tender skin of your inner thighs, sending urgent signals to your sex. You slipped your hands into his hair, whimpering, pulling lightly, trying to direct him to the place you needed him most.
But Bob had other ideas. He open-mouth kissed the top of your right thigh, eyes closed in private ecstasy as he frenched your leg, then sucked, forming a tight seal, the little bite of pain was followed by another and another, as he sucked his way higher, cruelly bypassing your panties to drag his chin along your hip. It didn’t matter how hard you pulled on his hair, nothing persuaded him against his mission.
“Bob…” There was a low, simmering warning in your voice.
“It’s for luck, babe, you can take these with you tomorrow.” Any other guy would have been bullshitting you, but not Bob. You believed him. He paused, gazing up at you lovingly with his dark, gooey eyes, resting his face against your belly. “I know you’re gonna kick ass,” he said, soft. “But I want to be there with you.”
“Okay,” you whispered, inhaling a steadying breath. “If…If it’s for luck.”
You didn’t know much more you could take. Your body was screaming at you to tackle him to the floor. A quick, dirty orgasm might be just what you needed to clear your head before the presentation. But Bob had his heart set on something, and you moaned quietly as he went back to work, mapping your abdomen with kisses, pleased little sounds dripping from his throat as he got higher on his knees and left a bruising mark right next to your navel.
Bob rose gradually to his feet again, wrapping you in his arms, tipping you backward like you were being dipped during a dance, granting himself access to your ribcage and the underside of your breasts. Your lower half snug to his, you could feel the persistent, pulsing heat of his erection against your hip. You tried to reach for him, but he smacked your hand away playfully.
Before you could whine at him about it, he hollowed his cheeks and sucked so hard against your tit, just below the nipple, that it emptied your head. Shit. It made a raunchy sound, but even better was the way Bob mewled as he did it, enjoying every naughty second. Your breath came faster as he moved to close his hot, wet mouth around your actual nipple, suckling like you were a lifeline. Your fingernails raked down his shoulders, desperate for something, for purchase. You bucked in his grasp, eyes closed as he pulled at you with his teeth, his cheeks flushed like he had run a marathon in full sun.
It had become clear at the start of your relationship that he was kind of a boob guy. He was not skilled at concealing his interest in yours, which might be verging on an obsession. He liked to fall asleep on them. In the morning, when you both had empty schedules, he’d worship like you were an altar.
You were moaning and begging like a maniac by the time he repeated the process on the other side. Your skin tingled all over. When Bob finally eased you upright and turned you toward the mirror, tucked against your back, you were spotted like a Dalmatian, visibly shiny from his spit. Bob pressed his nose into your cheek but never let his eyes drift away from your body. He gently revisited each love bite with his fingers, showing you all the places he had left a mark. It was intense. It was…sort of beautiful. Artistic, in a way.
His eyes shimmered with excitement as he finished brushing his hands across you. “What do you think?” he asked.
You spun to loop your arms around his neck and crane up for a real kiss. He held you tight, and you ground yourself shamelessly against the bulge in his sweats. His lips were swollen from covering you in so many hickeys. When you pulled back, it was only to have room enough to speak. “I think I love it, and I think you need to hurry up and take me to bed.”
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summary. six months ago, you and adam were dating and happy until he randomly ghosted you. now, he's standing at your door.
includes. SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, exes hooking up, takes place after the end of masters of the universe, unprotected p n v, oral (f receiving), giver!adam, sex while wearing the he-man outfit
wc. 5.8k
a/n: it's finally done thank god. my first fic in forever so ... everyone be nice.
You shouldn’t have answered the door.
For once in your life, you should’ve stayed on the couch and hit play on yet another episode of the show you thought you would hate, but haven’t been able to put down all weekend. You should’ve pretended you didn’t hear the knocks, or you should’ve turned the volume on the TV all the way down, made as little noise as possible, and pretended that you weren’t home all together.
Because standing on the other side of the threshold, in your apartment complex hallway with a bouquet of flowers (your favorites, you notice) in one hand and a necklace you thought was gone forever in the other, is a man who undos months of healing and emotional growth with one small, shy smile.
“Hi,” Adam Glenn says.
The single word is tense, holding acknowledgement of his half a year of absence in the greeting.
“What the fuck?” The words leave your mouth before you can consider anything else to say. Truthfully, it is the best thing to say in this situation. Because you thought Adam was dead.
Six months ago, after a really great night out with Adam that ended with you falling asleep on his bare chest, there was some sort of alien attack downtown. The aggressor wasn’t your normal perception of an alien—resembling more of a freakish grizzly bear than a tiny grey being who wanted to be taken to your leader.
Luckily, you were not downtown during the attack. Which left you sitting in your office at work, neglecting the documents on your computer, and scrolling every single social media you possibly could in order to find more information. Someone in the office turned the break room TV from HGTV reruns to the news, which gathered every single person into the small room, all crowded around the disproportional TV.
That’s when you first saw him.
It was an aerial view at first from a news chopper, and on the ground he was nothing but a speck of blond hair and a dusty pink shirt. But then social media videos of the incident began to roll in a few nights later and you got the first clear look of Adam, standing in the park you were going to suggest for a Sunday date next week. He was standing next to a woman—a gorgeous woman who you quickly found out was some sort of extraterrestrial warrior goddess. The videos you saw were a little blurry, and didn’t have good sound, but it was definitely Adam. And you definitely saw him climb into a spaceship, and fly off.
Obviously, you didn’t hear from him after that.
Adam looks taken aback by your small outburst. Then, he recovers, as if he’d expected it.
“Can I come in?” He asks.
You hesitate.
Your fingers twitch where they’re still wrapped around your door with the urge to slam it. But Adam looks so earnest.
It’s the thing you liked most about him from the beginning.
In his slightly-dorky Hinge photos, he’d looked like any other guy. Obviously tall, obviously blonde, but the lack of a self-absorbed gym picture was the first thing to stick out. Then his surprisingly normal conversation (the lack of suggestiveness was a major green flag). Then, on the first date, just his eyes reeled you in. He had what your mom called honest eyes, completely devoid of any ulterior motives.
His optical honesty paired with his authenticity is what made you text Adam for a second date. Which became a third, which became dating. Unfortunately, you weren’t together long before the incident.
You pull the door open and step back, thereby letting Adam back into your life. At least temporarily.
Adam looks just a little bit uncomfortable in your apartment. Looking at him sitting with pristine posture on a stool at your kitchen island, you briefly remember before when you two had just gotten into the routine of being comfortable in each other’s spaces. Adam used to easily toe his shoes off at the door, hang up his keys beside yours, and join you in the kitchen with his frame enclosing you in from behind.
Now, he sits on one side of the island and you stand on the other.
Your eyebrows raise, prompting Adam to begin explaining.
He takes a deep breath, rests his hands on the counter. Then, “It’s all real.”
You wait for Adam to add on, but he leaves it there.
“...What’s all real?” You ask.
“Everything,” he says, oh so helpfully. “Eternia. Skeletor. The warrior goddess. The sword. My parents.”
Adam told you his origin story (his choice of words, not yours) very early on in your relationship. He explained how he held off on the first couple of dates because his backstory tended to scare women off. You, in a determined bout to be different from the others, told him you wouldn’t be scared off. But then Adam all but rambled about a place called Eternia, and his father who was a King, and the sorceress who sent him to Earth with a sword in tow. You blinked, smiled and nodded while Adam told you everything, and then put that entire story to the back of your mind.
Because while you wanted to believe him and be there for him, logic prevailed, and pushing everything to the back of your mind allowed you to appreciate all the amazing qualities about Adam while … ignoring the slightly offputting ones.
When he left you, his backstory was the first thing that came to mind as you told yourself that you should’ve taken it as the first red flag and avoided heartbreak in turn.
You did consider that everything Adam described was real, but since you didn’t have any proof, you couldn’t rely on that outcome. Until the attack.
Now, you’re ready to listen to him with more belief.
“Is that where you went when you got on the ship? To Eternia?”
Adam nods, face as stern and serious as before yet even more intense.
“What was it like?”
Adam closes his eyes as if he’s going back to the moment. “It wasn’t what I remembered. Everything was so dark and grey this time, but I vividly remember being surrounded by these large bursts of color when I was younger. And Skeletor and his goons ran everything, so it was like this police state in a way.”
“Do you have any pictures?” You ask, beginning to get more hopeful that all of this is real. Which means that you and Adam could pick up where you two left off, assumingly.
Then, Adam visibly deflates.
“No. I didn’t have my phone on me. I think it got smashed in the attack.”
“Oh,” you say. Convenient, you think.
Adam senses your tone. He perks back up just a bit, leaning even further over the island in an attempt to get closer to you. “But I swear to you I am not lying.”
He speaks with such determination. It’s nearly impossible for you not to believe him. Nearly.
“I thought you died, Adam,” you say. Initially, your voice wobbles. You stand a little straighter, plant your bare feet into the floor, and become stronger. “Or I thought you ghosted me.”
Adam’s face balks. He doesn’t know what to say, which is perfect because you’re not done.
“At first, I thought you were an unnamed casualty in the attack downtown because you just seemed so nice that there was no way you could ever ghost me, so you had to have fucking died. Then my friends started asking ‘what if you did just randomly ghost me’? And I started to really consider it.” It’s all coming out now and you can’t stop it. You don’t want to stop it.
It’s one thing telling your friends and therapist how hurt you are. It’s another thing telling the person who hurt you—intentional or not—how hurt you are.
“But then I saw videos of you climbing into that fucking spacecraft with that girl and I didn’t hear from you for months. I know you were probably doing things that are incomprehensible for me, real or not, but I really missed you. I thought we had something good going.”
“We did!” Adam shoots up. He walks around the island, coming near you with tentative steps, giving you an out. You don’t take it. Maybe you’re too trusting. Maybe you’re foolish and naive. But you stay right there, letting Adam wrap his arms around your shoulders and rest your head on his chest.
Did he get bigger?
“I really liked being with you,” he says your name, so soft around the syllables in a way that only he can manage. “I’m sorry about everything that happened. I’m sorry I left like that. I swear I thought of you all the time and I came back as soon as I could. I would’ve come back sooner but…” he hesitates, the next words heavy on his tongue and too thick to speak around in his mouth.
“But what?” you ask against his chest, enjoying the way his newly endowed pecs act as cushioning on either side of your head.
You wouldn’t tell your well-meaning friends this, but you will gladly let Adam back into your life because of your time in the bedroom. At the end of the day, he was the most respectful and tender lover you’ve ever had.
“But my dad died.”
“Oh my god, Adam.” You lift your head, searching for his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he assures through glassy eyes. “I just had to stay back and help out since I’m king of Eternia now.”
Your head finds his chest again and you rub at his back. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Adam, seriously. And …” you chew on your bottom lip, “I’m really glad you’re okay.”
Adam wraps his arms around your shoulders and you feel at home. Your eyes close and you can’t help the sigh that falls from your lips. You’ve missed this. You’ve missed how you just slot perfectly in Adam’s arms.
“Is there anything I can do?” You find yourself saying without realizing.
“Actually yeah.”
You’re standing on the top floor of a neighboring parking garage in your little shorts, slippers, and an old college sweatshirt. Your arms are folded over your chest and your heart is beating so hard that you can feel it against your forearm. Your squinting at the object in front of you, trying to do as many grounding techniques as possible to prevent yourself from freaking the fuck out.
Because there is no way the spaceship in front of you is real. You have to be hallucinating, which induces your panic.
Adam is standing next to you, clearly trying his best to let you digest this information without pressuring you into anything. But you can sense the way he’s fidgeting in an attempt to mask his anxiety.
“So …?” He sounds hopeful, as if it’ll be easy for you to say yes and jump into a spaceship with your ex-boyfriend (even though you two never officially broke up) for two months.
“I don’t know if I can, Adam.”
Adam steps in front of you, blocking your view of the spaceship and instead giving you a full view of just him.
“I know it’s a crazy thing to ask but I just really want to show you where I’m from. The traveling part isn’t that bad and it’s really quick, all things considered. And I’ll bring you back as soon as you want. I swear.”
Adam speaks of it as if he’s asking you to come on a quick road trip with him, not as if he’s asking you to fly across the galaxy (or to a different galaxy? you aren’t really sure where Eternia is located) to visit his home planet. He’s asking you to casually do something that astronauts train for years to do, and never on this scale.
But, there is room for argument. He wants you to do this with him, but he certainly won’t make you. His eyes are kind, above all, just as they’ve always been. His tone, although pleading, is not demanding.
You aren’t sure if it is his tone that does it, or if you’re just plain stupid, but for some reason you find yourself agreeing.
At the end of the day you’re curious. And taking this risk, even though it’s a massive risk, is more interesting than watching reality TV on your couch.
“Holy fuck.”
Adam has his arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as he crowds you from behind. Just like before. You’re leaning back into him, letting him carry your weight along with his. Your head is tilted up, eyes taking in as much of everything as you can.
Eternia is colorful, extremely so. That’s the first thing you notice.
Maybe you’ve grown used to the monotonous flat tones that surrounded you back home, or maybe Eternia is just that vibrant and beautiful, but either way—it’s a nice change.
You turn to glance at Adam and he shares a look similar to yours: eyes big, smile even bigger, wonder and amazement written on every aspect of his face.
“I know,” he laughs. “Believe it or not but a few months ago everything was the complete opposite. When—”
“Skeletor was in charge?” You continue for him without intending to.
Adam hesitates, clearly shocked. “Yeah,” he says, smiling even bigger. He’s proud that you remember, you can tell, but even further, he’s glad that you believe him, even as you’re standing on the palace grounds of the place that everyone—including yourself, you’ll admit—refused to believe existed.
Adam is beaming. He has to force every word out of a large grin, larger than you’ve ever seen him have back on Earth. Your chest soars as you see how happy he is. At the end of the day, he was just trying to make it back home. Now he finally is. And Eternia looks good on him.
“Yeah. Exactly. When I first came back everything was so dull and grey. And disgusting. But after I defeated him in this really epic battle we took the time to rebuild everything back to how it used to be. Or as close as we could get it.”
And they did a great job.
You might’ve never seen Eternia before the destruction, but you can see it now and there is hardly any evidence pointing to this place ever looking anything short of breathtaking. There are a few cracks in the stone-covered ground, and when Adam points to things and tells you how exactly they fixed them you can tell, but everything looks nearly impeccable.
“I have one more thing to show you.”
Adam takes your hand in his, eagerly tugging you down the walkway and to the castle.
At first, you thought what Adam wanted to show you was the castle itself. You did marvel at it, despite Adam’s hurried attempts to pull you further into Castle Grayskull’s walls. He took you to his room, pushed you inside, and disappeared for a couple of prolonged seconds before returning with a sword in his hands.
You didn’t even get to ask any questions before Adam thrusted the sword into the air and loudly proclaimed that he had the power. Again, you would’ve asked about that, if you had the time. But the transformation started immediately.
A bolt of lighting (you had no idea where it could’ve come from indoors) came down and struck the sword, surrounding Adam at once. You watched his clothes materialize off, and then different clothes materialize back onto him. You had no choice but to sit there, mouth open, eyes wide and hungrily taking in all of Adam.
And there is so much of him on display in front of you.
Adam has always had a nice body.
He told you about his trips to the gym in hopes of bulking up and gaining more muscle, and truthfully, before he disappeared you didn’t see that much progress. Which was no issue for you! You loved his body.
But somehow, this sword and the ‘power’ that Adam possesses has given him new clothes and a new body.
What was once perfectly soft for you to lay on during movie nights is now magically sculpted, and glistening in the sunlight filtering in from Adam’s windows. He’s chisled—that’s the only way to describe it. His thighs are carved, each and every muscle accentuated beneath his leather skirt. The definition in his abdomen isn’t extreme, and it feels almost natural, surrounded by a healthy layer of fat that tells you that despite his new body, Adam is still Adam.
“So…” Adam prompts, his arms slightly thrown out to either side of his body. For a moment, he looks a little shy, a glimpse of the Adam you knew back on Earth. But then he glances down at his torso, seems to remember who he is, and then he slowly gives you a spin, letting you take in all of him in one slow turn.
Somehow, his back looks even better than his front. You’ve never seen a back and shoulders as sculpted as his.
“Jesus Christ," you say, not even bothering to hide the amazement in your voice.
Adam rushes to you, dropping to his knees to be on the same level with you as you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “I know, right! The first time it happened I couldn’t believe it.”
“What exactly just happened?”
He shrugs, gesturing to the almost-forgotten sword behind you both. “I have the power. By the power of Grayskull.”
Right. Whatever that means.
“What do you think?”
“I think this is so fucking cool, Adam.” Your hands cup his cheeks, the tips of your fingers reaching into his golden roots. Instinctively, you scratch at his scalp and instinctively, Adam melts into your touch. His eyelids flutter shut and he practically purrs, releasing a sound mixed between a sigh and a groan.
“I missed you so much,” he admits.
“I missed you more, Adam,” you admit. It’s the truth, wholehearted and vulnerable.
You were angry that Adam left, yes, but you were angry because you missed him. You were sad beneath everything else, and the sadness made you feel weak and exposed, especially to your friends who were quick to start shit talking Adam once you told them that you were essentially ghosted.
I knew there was something off about him.
No guy is that nice.
Didn’t you say he had some weird childhood or something? Never give one of those guys a chance.
There was practically nothing for you to do but be angry along with them. If you allowed yourself to be sad in their presence, that would be weak. You would be stupid to mourn a relationship that everyone else thought wasn’t going to work out.
So you hid everything beneath anger. You blocked his number and blocked his Instagram, just to unblock both a few nights later in hopes that he would reach out. You scrolled through the few pictures you had together, wondering where everything went wrong. You came to conclusion after conclusion, hoping the next one would make more sense than the last and make you feel better.
But you don’t have to do that anymore.
Because Adam is here, in your hands again.
You latch onto strands of his hair and pull him up and close, reclining back against the plush mattress throughout.
It doesn’t take long at all for Adam to pick up.
He wraps his large hands around your knees, reaching behind them to latch onto you and pull your legs further apart. He lets himself be guided home until your pelvis is flush together. One of his hands reaches up and steadies his body by pressing into the mattress, the other loosely gripping your hip.
HIs lips are hovering over yours, neither of you closing that space yet.
You tease the movement, lifting your head ever so slightly until your lips brush and the tip of your nose pokes his. Adam leans in, the movement minute and hesitant. Then, he goes for it, completely closing the gap.
Surprisingly, it doesn’t take you long at all to join each other in a familiar rhythm. This is a rhythm you’ve thought about for months now, eyes pinched shut in the middle of the night as you tried with all of your might to hold onto memories of Adam’s body against yours and your lips moving in near-perfect tandem.
It also is easy for you to reclaim this rhythm with Adam because you hadn’t attempted to find it with anyone else. Adam was the last person you slept with, making those six months of silence feel even longer.
Adam kisses hungrily. He always has—on your third date, you made a surprised sound into his mouth when he kissed you goodbye at the entrance to your apartment.
But now he kisses you like he’s insatiable.
It climbs, his hunger. He begins almost gently, tipping his head to the side just a bit to deepen the kiss. But when you hike a leg up his side and hold his head from behind, he inhales and presses into you with more force.
Your position is awkward enough to have Adam slightly hovering over you and you desperately desire to have him directly on top of you.
You climb up the bed. Adam follows you, kicking off his boots in his journey.
You end up with your head bracketed by pillows, the crown of your head pressing into the upholstered headboard.
Adam pushes the pillows to the ground. All except one which he lays beneath your head.
He descends your body until he’s face to face with your center. No conversation is required. You push your lounge shorts down your legs, your underwear following. You spread open for Adam, laying back and letting him make the decisions.
And his first decision is to stare.
Wide eyed, lips parted, warm breath gently fanning out to hit you where you’re most sensitive. He doesn’t make any moves, not yet. He just sits and appreciates you.
Before you can tease him about it (not that you were going to, of course), Adam makes his move. He leans in and he’s not timid at all.
He devours you now like he always has. His nose pressed into your hair, his tongue reaching and swirling and dipping, his eyes fluttering shut and his eyebrows pressing close together with concentration.
Your legs find their natural place over his shoulders, your thighs pressing into the leather straps of his chest piece that he still wears.
With how long it’s been since you’ve been with anyone else, and with how admittedly good Adam is at giving head, it’s not surprising how soon you start to feel the hints of an orgasm making itself known in your body.
You hold it off, though. This feels too good to give in quickly.
You press the heels of your feet into Adam’s toned back and twist your fingers into the bed sheets.
Your back curls when Adam swishes his tongue back and forth over your clit. You groan, loud and unabashed, when Adam licks a long stripe from your entrance to the hood of your clit.
He’s working you how he knows you like and you’re flattered when you realize that he remembers what you like. When he creates a point with the tip of his tongue and runs it up and down your cunt, something deep in you jumps.
“Don’t stop,” you whine, finally keen to chase the orgasm you’ve been attempting to ignore the whole time.
“Are you close?” Adam asks. You meet his big brown eyes and nod once before Adam’s dipping back down and doing his absolute best to get you there.
All it takes is a few more licks from him and then your back is arching, your mouth wide open even though absolutely no sound leaves it as you cum. One foot presses into Adam’s back, the other pressing into his shoulder. Your body can’t decide whether to pull him closer or push him away.
It’s not like you would have much success with either option, though.
Adam easily locks you against his mouth with two large hands gripping your ass cheeks. You’re stuck, not that you’re complaining.
The overstimulation kicks in quick, though. It’s not unfamiliar to you—this is something you’ve done often, both alone and with Adam.
You can’t help but whine when you try to twist out of Adam’s hold and he doesn’t let up one bit.
The reprieve you get is minimal, nothing but a quick moment when he removes his mouth to tell you “it’s okay, ‘m almost done”.
You have no choice but to breathe in the way you know how, and let it happen.
And when Adam makes you cum with his mouth for a second time, it’s nearly painful, but so worth it. Your toes curl and you feel the squirt of arousal release from within you.
It’s not clear when the fluid ends up until Adam lifts his head and his lips, nose, and nearly everything within the vicinity is coated in a thin sheen.
He smiles, big and dopey, clearly satisfied, and rests his cheek on your mound, absentmindedly pressing kisses into your thigh. “Hot,” he says. You aren’t sure what exactly he’s referring to, but you still grin.
“Do you want to fuck me?” You ask.
It seems like the option hadn’t crossed Adam’s mind. He looks almost surprised, his eyebrows lifting. “Oh. Yeah. Yeah. Sure.”
You tilt your head. “Do you?”
Adam nods vehemently. “Yes. Fuck yeah, I do.”
You grin and reach down, curling your fingers beneath the strap of his chest piece and using the leverage to pull him up to you. He wipes his mouth with the back of one hand before leaning in to kiss you, but even then you can taste yourself on his mouth.
You moan and purposefully make a show of sticking your tongue into Adam’s mouth and swirling it around, licking the taste of your cunt off of his molars and the back of his teeth. Adam lets you do it, mouth hanging limp.
And when you’ve had your fill, Adam eases you fully back into the bed, after lifting your shirt off of you. He presses kisses down your body, taking his time to appreciate all of you laid out before him. He swirls his tongue around your nipples, teasing the hardened bud with his teeth, and then repeating his ministrations on the other. He fondles your tits in his hands while he kisses you, and presses light, appreciative kisses into the side of your neck.
He brushes against your pelvis and you’re made aware of the boner poking against the leather flaps of his skirt. One of them brushes against your cunt and the smooth, cool fabric feels heavenly. You gasp, hips chasing the feeling. Adam gives it to you.
He presses against you fully, rocking his hips against yours in fluid motions. The leather glides smoothly until the metal decals at the end hit you. It hitches against your clit and enhances the experience even more.
“Oh my god, Adam.”
You press your fingers into his shoulders.
“What is it?” he asks, his head hooked into the crook of your neck.
“Put it in. Please.”
And he does.
He doesn’t bother removing the skirt. You watch him push down undergarments, and then the tip of his cock pokes out between two flaps of his skirt. The tip is flushed a deeper color than the rest of him, resembling a deeper mix of the color of his lips and the flush on his cheeks. You see a transparent bead resting at his slit, and Adam wraps his hand around his cock and glides it down.
The visual is obsense—Adam fully clad in his warrior outfit, sitting on his haunches, abusing the power of Grayskull to fuck his girlfriend (ex-girlfriend? You’ll need to figure that out later). The cherry on top comes when Adam brings his hand to his mouth and spits in it, using the saliva as makeshift lube to glide down his thick cock.
The Adam from your first date might’ve hesitated at doing something so blatantly lewd. But the Adam you started dating shortly after, the one who begged you to sit on his face and asked to cockwarm while watching The Godfather, began to delve into the obscenity.
He claimed it only came out with you—that you taught him how to revel in the vulgarity.
“Do you have a condom?” You ask.
Adam nods, staring down at you through lidded eyes as he continues to stroke himself. “There’s some in the bathroom. I can go grab one.”
And he should. You know he should.
But you want to feel Adam. You want to feel all of Adam for the first time.
“Forget about it.”
You reach for him with your feet, pressing the heel of one foot into his side and bending your leg in a pull.
“Are you sure? It’s really no problem—”
“I’m sure, Adam. As long as you are, too.”
He cock is close to your entrance now and Adam looks mesmerized. He doesn’t answer, not until you say his name once more.
“I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Then he slides home.
It takes a few shallow thrusts and deep breaths for you to adjust around Adam.
You don’t remember him being this thick and this long. You’re unsure if that’s a lapse in memory, or if the power of Grayskull also goes to his cock.
It doesn’t matter. Not when Adam is rocking into your with languid thrusts. He’s moving so slowly and it’s obvious that he’s savoring it all and taking it in.
He hasn’t slid all the way in yet, though. You can tell because you have yet to feel the cool leather against your mound again.
Adam takes his time with you. He kisses you while he fucks you. His kisses are slow and lingering, just like his thrusts.
He pushes in and his lips tangle with yours. He pulls out and he hovers above your mouth, the ghost of his lips against yours.
It’s not until you wrap your hands around his tousled golden hair that Adam bottomed out and everything hit you all at once.
The leather of his skirt ticked around your cunt, his mound pressing against your clit (you notice the lack of hair and it occurs to you that his entire body is smooth. Interesting), and his cock is so ridiculously deep that you gasp.
“I’m sorry,” he rushes out, pulling back just a bit, but you pull him forward, back into you.
No, he lets you pull him back into you.
“You like that?” He’s earnest when he asks it, seriously wondering if you like the pain of having his cock nudging close to your cervix.
You nod even though your face is screwed up.
But Adam seems to take the hint even better than you can give it to him.
He uses the new knowledge perfectly, never overabusing the length of his cock and hurting you by fucking your cervix. No, he keeps nearly all of his thrusts to a respectable distance from the deepest part of you. Only a few thrusts get that close again and each time feels even better than the last.
You’ve missed Adam so much and you’re so fucking horny that somehow, you can feel another orgasm making itself known in your body. But truthfully, you’re spent, and all you desired was feeling Adam again after so long. So, nobly, you ignore it.
You pull Adam down, pressing your lips to his, and allow him to focus on his pleasure. You attempt to pry your legs even wider, giving him even more room and access to your body.
“I’m close,” he croaks out, words spoken directly into your mouth. It’s like he doesn’t even want to be a couple of inches away from you, and you feel the same.
You lock your ankles around Adam’s back and hook your arms over his shoulders.
You know exactly what he needs, so you press your lips to his and put all of your attention into kissing Adam until he finishes.
And he does finish, and it’s quick.
He barely pulls out of you before he’s cumming on your stomach and chest, not even pulling away from your mouth when he pumps the last few drops out of his cock.
The first thing he asks you is, “Are you okay?”
You nod, smiling softly against his lips. “I’m more than okay.”
“Good. That’s good.” He’s winded and after pecking your lips and forehead, he falls onto his back beside you.
He reaches over, grabbing a handful of tissues from a box on the nightstand and uses them to tenderly wipe his cum off of your torso. When there’s still a residue left behind, he apologizes and goes to stand up, likely to grab you something more efficient than tissues until you assure him that it’s okay.
For a moment, you turn your head the opposite way, taking in more of Adam’s bedroom.
You see photos on the wall, assumingly of a younger Adam with his parents. There are newer ones, too, images of Adam standing next to a green lion, him next to a blue robot, and him sitting around a table with a few men and women enjoying a feast.
When you look back to Adam, he’s back to how you knew him—muscles less defined, everything softer, fully stripped.
“What happened?”
“Yeah it doesn’t last forever.” He seems to shy away, curling in on himself and putting distance between you.
You don’t let it happen. You move closer, pressing your torso into his side, nuzzling your head into his chest. A moment passes, then, “Do you wanna go again?”
Adam perks up. “Yeah.” He sits up and scoots towards the edge of the bed.
“Where’re you going?” You ask, propping yourself up on your elbows.
He gestures to the forgotten sword laying on the floor and you shake your head.
“No. Don’t worry about that. C’mere.”
And he does. He practically scurries back over to you, sitting on his haunches and spreading your legs out around his hips.
“Okay,” he agrees, grinning as he leans in and presses his lips to yours.
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I keep thinking about deathbed thoughts. I don’t know why this has been on my mind lately. What the fuck am I going to be thinking when I’m dying? I don’t want to look back on my memories, and just see slates and hotel rooms and press junkets. So I’m trying to figure out a way to make that all not just something that I sleepwalk through, you know?
