mental desolation

Leon worked in his home office, which was cluttered with papers and office supplies, and the only decoration on his desk was his laptop. The clicking of keys filled the room as he worked on his report. Leon frowned slightly in concentration, completely focused on the task at hand, and occasionally adjusted his glasses when he felt them slipping down his nose.

But under the table, he could hear his cock in your mouth, the wet slurping sounds of your eager sucking filling the room, an obscene contrast to the mundane sounds of the printer and the muffled hum of the laptop. He seemed almost oblivious to it, his fingers never stopping their relentless typing, as if his cock wasn't currently deep in your throat.

How could he act like it didn't bother him?

Leon could feel your throat pleasantly tighten as you tried to take him deep. His pale blue eyes scanned his own words and corrected a few grammatical errors, holding the pen between his trembling fingers.

His other hand was in your hair as he gently massaged your head, and your nails dug into his thighs, covered in sweatpants, while his cock rested perfectly on your tongue. Warming him with your mouth, you wanted to show your husband how much you wanted to distract him from work.

After all, he works so much that he forgets to rest, having already drunk several cups of coffee... five or maybe six... he lost count because he had to rethink the mission for the report in his head, even though he wanted to forget it once and for all in his life.

You gently ran your tongue over every bump, vein, and protrusion, making soft smacking sounds so as not to drool everywhere. But, to be honest, you're still making a mess on the floor; your saliva and his pre-ejaculate are dripping from your chin. And all this is because he was heavy for your tongue, but that weight brought you a feeling of comfort, and you happily closed your eyes.

When you felt someone gently pull your hair, your eyes flew open before you saw Leon looking down at you through his eyelashes, “you really want to distract me, huh?”, he quietly praises you as his hand slides from your hair to your face, his rough hands gently caressing the delicate skin of your slightly flushed cheek.

Instead of answering, you took it deeper into your mouth, which triggered your gag reflex, but you ignored it when you heard Leon's deep moan. That sound alone was enough to make your thighs clench.

And so as not to lose control completely, Leon began to furiously scratch at the report with his pen, making notes and corrections and squeezing it so hard that it was surprising he hadn't broken it yet. His mind was no longer as focused, but he tried to concentrate on the task at hand. He was like a machine, a well-oiled mechanism, and nothing could distract him from his goal. That is, until you walked in with a loud complaint that he had been sitting there all day without a break.

With his free hand, he gathered your hair into an improvised ponytail so it wouldn't fall on your face and used your hair as leverage. The dull, aching pain in your jaw was distracting, but you pushed the thought aside and tilted your head back slightly to give yourself some room to swallow the precum that was already in your mouth.

You gently sucked the tip of his cock, making his lips moan softly before you began to move your head at a steady pace, sucking in your cheeks. At first, you didn't even notice him rocking his hips in time with the movement of your head as you tried to take him deeper, but it caused you to choke slightly, and you felt his thumb gently caress your cheek, wiping a tear from your cheek, “don't overdo it, sweetheart.”

You looked up and saw lust in his eyes, but also affection; the desire to please him came sharply, just as he had done for you countless times. You used your hands to get what you wanted before you felt him twitch on your tongue, knowing he was close to the end. Hearing his moans, taking a deep breath through your nose, you decided to push Leon's cock deep into your throat until your nose touched his pubic bone and the head of his cock touched the back of your throat.

“Princess... oh, fuck...” he clenched his teeth, feeling that he was about to cum in your mouth. His mind was too foggy to think, and thanks to you, he completely forgot about his work right now. Leon's breathing became more and more ragged, his chest heaved heavily with each breath, and he tried with all his might to concentrate. He felt his heart pounding wildly, unable to comprehend that he was so close. You heard Leon curse loudly and felt his body tense, then a thick stream of semen filled your tongue and throat.

A few tears rolled down your cheeks as you tried your best to swallow as much as you could, but with a soft pop, you covered your mouth with your hand because there was very little semen left in it, and swallowed the rest before coughing slightly.

The hair he was holding fell as he leaned back in his chair and tried to catch his breath, just like you are now, pressing your forehead against your knee and closing your eyes, “Are you okay, princess?” he asked you anxiously, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

He was as disheveled as you were: a drop of sweat ran down his temple, and goosebumps ran across his body after his recent orgasm. His strong arms wrapped around your body as you barely stood on your feet, keeping you from falling. Although you collapsed on top of him, facing him, it made him laugh, but he understood that you were tired too, “yeah, I'm fine... just give me a couple of seconds,” you ask him in a voice muffled by his skin.

Goosebumps litter your skin and the back of your head feels like it’s on fire. Your head thumps loudly as your heartbeat picks up. 

It’s probably nothing, nothing at all. You’re just working yourself up, this is stupid. You’ve never had a “paranormal” experience in this house, why would it start now? Your body feels like it's racing, blood pulses violently under your skin as your mouth fills with a tangy taste. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to seal them closed forever and forget about this ominous feeling. 

“Look at me.” 

You blanch. Your body stiffens with pure fear. Your eyes shoot open, starting straight into the darkness of your bedroom. You can’t help it, you can’t pretend anymore. 

Your feet, your palms, your whole body is striked. You feel clammy, all parts of your body hot and cold at the same time. 

“Look.” The voice calls again with more demand. 

Unbeknownst to you, you oblige. 

Turning your body over you’re met with darkness other than blown wide, glowing red eyes  and a sadistic grin. 

You shake with paralyzing fear, and you swear you might release your bladder onto your mattress. 

But before you could even process, you blink and the face is gone. 

–

It’s been a week since you’ve dreamt of… whatever that was. You’re convinced it was a sick dream, even though it took hours with the light on to sleep again that night. 

You go through your nightly routine of tidying up after you come home from work, pick out your clothes for the next day, showering, skincare and finally cozy up in your bed. 

Picking up your phone, you scroll through social media. 

After a few hours of doom-scrolling, your eyelids grow heavy. You turn off your phone and roll over to let sleep drift you away. 

Until, that static fills the room again. 

It’s just your imagination. Nothing can hurt you. It’s just your imagination. You think over and over, until it becomes true. Sleep.

Ice cold air washes over you and you force your eyes shut, ignoring the fear pumping loudly through your body. 

Tap, tap, tap.

Just your imagination.

Sleep.

“Sweetie,” a staticy voice gently calls to you, “Open your eyes.”

“Not real, not real..” You say, covering your face with your comforter like it’ll protect you from whatever lurks in the corner of your room.

The sounds of static grow louder, prickling your skin in a teasing way. Like the static is real, and it’s caressing your body. 

The voice calls out your name softly and your stomach threatens to release your dinner all over your bed. 

“But I am real, open your eyes.” 

It’s a threat.

Your body stiffens as bile rises in your throat. Your skin is so tight from fear that it hurts to remove the blankets off your face. 

Your eyes open slowly, terrified of what you’ll see in the corner of your room. 

It’s pitch black, but somehow the figure that stands in the corner is even darker. Shadows curl and twist off his body. The eyes you meet are red, but not blown wide as last time. A too-wide smile glows, contrasting against the darkness. 

The creature observes you quietly, static humming gentler now. 

“You’re not real! Go away!” Your voice comes out in a hoarse whisper due to your lungs constricting under your ribs. 

The creature's face tilts to the side as his eyes narrow down at you. 

“That may work on lesser demons, but I am not one of them.” 

Your body violently shakes now, the fear washing over you is frigid and stuns you in place. 

“What do you want?” You manage to say. 

“Something, but not tonight, my dear.” It says before shadows twist up the figure's body and he’s gone. 

—

Every few days, you’d hear that tap, tap behind a door, in the walls or even through the window next to your bed. The advances at night begged for your attention, begging you to look at the creature but you refused. You haven’t slept right in weeks. 

Static would pass by your ears while you're alone, but more so at nighttime. It seems like this creature wants you to know he’s there, watching your every move. Despite those occurrences, he has not shown himself directly, or spoken to you. 

You’ve decided to move out of your room to see if he would leave you alone. And for the past couple of weeks, you’ve staked out in your living room. Every night, you leave the TV and the lights on. And to your relief, the creature has not paid a visit. 

It’s late on a weekend, so you stay up scrolling on your phone curled up in blankets on your couch. 

Stretching your arms, you yawn and check the time. 

2am. 

You sink deeper into the couch and put on a comfort show to fall asleep to. You close your eyes before you hear that bone chilling voice mixed with static.

“You think sleeping on the couch with lights on would stop me from paying a visit?” 

The lights in your house flicker and your TV cuts out to static. 

Your eyes shoot open, ready to curse the creature out. You thought this would end, why is he stalking? Haunting? Following you? What the fuck does he want? 

“Get the fuck out of here!” You sit up on the couch and face the creature standing a few feet from your couch. You’re desperate to show him you’re not afraid, but your shaking body shows him otherwise. 

The creature - man - stands tall, towering over your body even from a feet away. He’s nicely dressed in a red suit with a long coat and a cane. The red eyes you know all too well by now look down on you as his cheshire smile grows. Atop his head he has small horns and ears that twitch when you yell at him. His posture is nothing but sophisticated. You wonder why he’s presented himself to you in this way now after everything. 

“Oh darling, that’s not how a lady talks, now is it?” 

It’s fear and anger that boil in your chest now. 

“What do you want from me?” You stand your ground, determined to banish this creature forever. Before, you thought that it was your imagination, but now you see he is completely real. 

His picks lint off his jacket, “I’ve been watching you for a while now,” he begins. And you know that. You fucking know that. He’s been terrorizing you and your home, he even exiled you out to sleep in your living room. “And you have something I want.”

His hands re-adjust to rest on top of his cane. 

“What are you?” You ask.

“Here’s the deal, sweetheart, I’ll tell you everything you want to know if you play a game.”

Your nose crinkles, “A game? Get the fuck out of my house!”

“Now, now, my dear. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure.” He reaches out a hand, but you don’t take it. 

“I see,” he hums, retracting his hand to rest over his cane again, “I apologize for scaring you before. I must say that you’ve intrigued me, my dear. I want to offer a deal with you.”

“A deal?” Your brows furrow at his request. “Why would I want to make a deal with you? Are you some kind of ghost? A demon?” 

“I’m someone who can make your wildest dreams come true, sweetheart!” 

Alastor steps closer to you extending a finger to your chin. You try to back away, but he grips your jaw gently between his fingers to force you to look up at him. 

“All the riches in the world. All the luck you can have. I know what desires you have, I’ve been studying you. I will give you everything you wish until your time here ends.” His body towers closely over yours sitting on your couch. His figure is enormous, and his eyes look down at you with a glimmer. 

You process his words carefully. 

“In exchange for what?” 

“Your eternal enslavement in hell of course, my dear. I’ll own your soul once you die. I will say that it sounds a lot worse than it is.” 

An eternity in hell for everything you could want while you live on earth. You mull it over.

“This is why you’ve been stalking me? Why me?” 

“Darling,” he removes his hand from your chin, but doesn’t move, “You’re just what I want. I’m very curious about you, as I said, you intrigue me.” 

You wait for more, but he doesn’t answer. 

“Your soul after you die, for your life to be filled with every earthly delight you can imagine.”

“I’m- not sur-” you begin but he quickly cuts you off. 

“I know you, more than you think I do. I know all your little secrets,” His eyes darken, “I will protect you, here and in hell.” His head cocks to the side, his eyes narrow down at you.

“You’ll protect me? For eternity? And give me everything I want here while I live?” You look down at your hands, “That's all you want? My soul for you to give me everything?” 

He hums, “Yes, my dear. It would be a pleasure to work with you,” he takes a step back and flips his cane swifty before catching it. He extends his hand once again for you, “Do we have a deal?” His lips curl, showing his gums to you as he smiles. 

You take a breath and think how this deal couldn’t hurt. Everything in life for your soul. You could live comfortably and happily, rich even, and all you have to do is go to hell with him. But, you’ll be protected on either end of the deal. 

You extend your hand out to his and shake. “Deal.” his hand grips yours tightly, and his eyes and smile glow green. Shadows expel off his body and surround your limbs in a caress. 

Before you blink, Alastor is gone once again. 

—

You don’t see Alastor for a few days, and honestly you don’t mind that. But you have noticed that your life has gotten… better. Small things like people offering to pay for your groceries, you’ve gotten a promotion at your job and a hell of a raise. Little things that make you think what Alastor did isn’t just a fever dream - that he’s real. 

You try not to think of your eternal enslavement at the end of your life. But you cling on to the promise he made to you, that he would protect you even after all is said and done. 

Slipping into your covers at the end of a long week, your body burns with need. The end of an exciting week was a lot for you… and you want to take the load off. Feeling happier than ever with the events of the past few days were a dream come true, but the stress of it all somehow makes you feel like you have a lot on your shoulders now. 

Your hand slips down between your legs, a finger gently slides over your clit for a tease. Your core burns hotter with need. Pressing into yourself, you draw little circles over your bundle of nerves. Your free hand slides up to tease a nipple. 

You groan at the feeling. You buck your hips up into your own touch as your fingers do the work. You know exactly what you like and how to do it, and your body becomes hotter with every movement. 

Your slick builds up at your opening, as you dip a finger down to catch the slick to bring it back up to your clit. You huff, working yourself so well that you -

“Busy, darling?” 

Alastors staticy voice startles you. Your hand shoots away from yourself and you quickly pull your covers over your body. Heat flushes over your face as mortification bubbles in your gut. 

“Alastor!” You gasp, you can’t bear to meet his eyes. 

Alastor stands poise as ever, his head already tilted to the side, grinning down at your body. 

He knows. Of course he knows. 

“If you needed help, you could have just called me.”

Your face twisted with embarrassment and confusion must have given you away because he continues, “Yes, you can call me here anytime you want. That was a part of the deal, how else would I be able to come at your beck and call to give you what you want?”

“Alastor, please, not now,” you mumble and his ear twitches with annoyance.

This is a sick and twisted situation. Guilt, mortification, and sickness floods your body. You made a deal with… whatever he is. To cheat at life. He has access to you whenever you need… or in this case, whenever he wants. 

“Why are you here?” You ask.

“I thought I would drop by to see how my little sweetheart was doing, and I can see she’s occupied.” His steps are slow towards the bed. 

“Not now… please.” You turn your face away from him. Your face is melting, you can feel it burning up your neck, your cheeks…

“Lay back down,” his hand gently pushes you down. You protest for a second, but his strength pushes you down more. 

“I don’t-”

“I can see you need assistance, my dear. Let me take care of this for you, it’s what I’m here for.” His body towers over you as he stands next to the bed. 

“I didn’t think this was a part of the deal,” you look up at him. You don’t want it to be a part of the deal.

“Nonsense.” He dismisses you.

You close your thighs together as his hand snakes over your legs under the covers. 

“Open.” He commands.

“Alastor-” you plead. You want him gone. This is too much. It’s embarrassing as it is…

“Do you dare to disrespect me? The one who owns your fucking soul?” The static in his voice is as loud as the first night he came into your room, and the lights in your room flicker on and off. His gums show as he talks to you. 

Then his hands pry your legs apart. 

“You will listen to me and I won’t repeat myself again.” Alastor yanks the covers off your naked body as a gasp leaves your lips. 

“I can give you anything you want and I’ve already started. Did you like not paying for food this week? Or how about that promotion?” He tilts his head down to you, his face so close to yours as he glares into your soul.

“I did, Alastor.” The coldness of the room makes your skin prickle, your nipples hard. 

“This deal goes both ways for me. You get everything you want and I own you. Which means I get to do whatever I want to you.” 

Before you could respond, metal appears out of thin air and tightens around your neck. Alastor grips at the chain connected to your neck and tugs you forward. His hand cradles your jaw as he forces you to look up at him. 

“Now, do you want to feel good?” He hums.

Your teasing from earlier still burns with need. But you don’t want him to take care of you. 

You nod anyways. 

“Lovely.” 

The hand that grips your chin releases to free his cock from his pants. His cock looks like its aching for you, beaded with pre-cm already as it lays over your stomach. His hand then slides down your belly and rests over your thigh. He grips your thigh roughly, squeezing your sensitive skin so close to your core. His fingers dance over your skin, tickling your nerves. 

A finger flicks up to your opening and you whimper, pulling at the chain in his grip. 

“Already so wet,” he comments, “Look at me, dear.” 

You meet his gaze as his fingers slide up to your clit. He’s not gentle when he rubs circles over it, but the way he does it has your head falling back. Your eyes still hold his gaze as the pressure he gives you at your bundle of nerves make you buck into him. 

“What a good girl.” He praises, then picks up his pace. His fingers work fast and hard, rubbing you roughly in all the best ways. Your mouth slacks open as your core begins to tighten. 

“See? I’m making you feel so good, and you didn’t want this. You want this now?” He tugs at the chain.

You nod, unable to use words as your being carried by the ecstasy he is making you feel. Alastor grinds his hips over your stomach so his cock can feel friction. 

“Speak,” he sing songs to you, “Speak and I’ll let you cum.” 

“Yes, Alastor.” You give into the beautiful feeling he’s giving you.

“Give it to me.” He commands, pressing harder into your clit. His smile is disgusting, his eyes are full of pure delight. He is enjoying seeing you wrecked. 

The tightness in your belly snaps and you scream out. Bucking your hips into his fingers as your ride out your high. Alastor watches in amazement, taking the sight of you in completely. 

“Ahh, that’s a good girl but we aren’t done yet. You want to be filled up?”

You know better than to just nod, so you give him a breathless “yes,” and he’s tugging you up by your chain. 

His arm wraps around the small of your back, hand clawing at the flesh of your hips. Your legs wrap around his waist and he keeps you close. You feel his cock throbbing at your slit, and you’re not sure if it’ll fit. 

Your chain has no give to move so you hold Alastor tightly against you. Your face is extremely close to his, as he leans over your body. 

In one swift motion, he thrusts himself into you. Your back arches as you cry out. 

He hums, “You’ll get used to it dear.” His smile is devilish and confident as he looks down at your flushed face, his eyes are heavily lidded. 

He pulls back just to thrust himself inside you. With every thrust it’s deeper, and deeper. The hand gripping the fat of your waist claws at you and forces you to move to his rhythm. The chain tugs roughly but he still doesn't give any slack. 

His hair tickles your cheek, as he moves his face into the crook of your neck. His teeth bite roughly, drawing blood.

“So sweet,” he hums as he slides a tongue over the wound, lapping up your blood. 

His pace picks up, and you're a melted mess held up by his leash and arm. Your body bounces to his movement. His balls slap against your ass with every rough thrust he gives. 

His tongue laps at your blood in between kisses he gives against your neck. You clench around his cock with this. 

“I feel you,” he murmurs in your ear, “Cum on me.”

His shadows burst out of his body, engulfing all corners of your room. One in particular slides between your bodies and rubs at your clit. Gentler than his fingers were, but enough to have you a babbling mess in his arms. Tears prick at your eyes as all parts of your body are touched. It’s too much. 

Everything is so much. His shadow at your clit, his arm slung across your back keeping you close, his clawed hand piercing the skin at your waist, his teeth and togue working your neck, his hair tickling your face, it's all so fucking much. 

And you give. You groan, a noise coming from deep within as the bubble pops in your lower belly. Your cunt flutters around his cock and it sends him over the edge. 

With one, two, three thrusts his hips stutter and glue them to you as he fills your cunt with warm cum. 

As he does this, his tongue licks along your jaw and his teeth nip at your earlobe. 

He catches his breath relatively quickly, and his face comes to yours. He gives that calm demeanor he gave the night he made the deal with you. 

He tugs the chain on your neck, reminding you that you’re forever tied as he promises, 

You were charmed by his pitiful behavior, and, eventually, you relent. You grant him full, unadulterated access to your body. There, you know you will learn the true extent of his proficiency.

Spencer looks down at you, already writhing against satin sheets. His pupils are blown and his mouth, though parted, are curved into a smile. Every few seconds, he licks his lips.

Despite his enthusiasm, he takes his time down your body. Every inch down, he places another kiss. At first, they are chaste pecks, but the closer he gets to his goal, the longer they last. By the time he gets to just below your belly button, he is practically drooling with anticipation.

His tongue runs across your stomach. You suck in a quick breath at the juxtaposition of hot and cold.

He smiles just before he finally captures his prize. He uses both hands to push your legs apart, and he fills the empty space immediately. There is no hesitation before he runs his tongue along glistening folds.

Your whole body shudders.

He does it again, this time deeper. Heat on heat, his tongue draws along each fold like he was memorizing the petals. Each stroke showed an immense appreciation for you. It was something akin to worship.

Within seconds, you realize an undeniable truth: Spencer will never be happier than when his face is buried between your thighs.

That knowledge alone is enough to drive you wild, but it is difficult to focus on it long when the man at your altar is becoming bolder in his admiration.

When the tip of his tongue circles your clit, you gasp. Your hands abandoned balled up sheets and instead rooted through his hair.

He pauses, sucking in a similar breath. It brings with it a coolness, a stark contrast to his mouth that lasted less than a second. There were no protests when you started to pull. Spencer would move maybe half an inch each time, carefully accounting for the differences in your sounds.

Curious and capable as ever, he made sure that every action led to an even more delightful reaction from you. He was not easily dissuaded from his conquest, either.

In fact, the more you squirmed, the harder he went. To keep you where he wanted you, he placed a heavy forearm against your waist. When even that didn’t provide him enough control, he slipped two fingers into your aching heat.

“Spencer!” you squeak.

You realize he probably can’t hear you when your thighs are covering his ears.

But you can hear him. You hear the sloppy sounds of his tongue and lips as they lavish every inch of silky skin. Even louder, you hear—you feel—the wanton sounds of his groans. The sound waves penetrate your skin and stoke the ever-growing fire.

“Spencer,” you try to whine even louder.

Your fingers tangle in his hair while your thighs start to slip in their attempts to push him away, just for a second.

The next time you try to say his name, the sound catches in your throat.

His fingers are curling, dragging down sensitive, fluttering walls without any sign of stopping. His mouth, now as wet as the object of his desire, slides easily up your folds. It stops just as they reach your most sensitive point.

Spencer’s arm is holding you down even when your hips start to buck. The pressure intensifies the already overwhelming feeling of his fingers as they stroke you, unhurried and insistent as ever.

Just as you close your eyes, his tongue begins drawing lazy circles around an almost painfully swollen pearl.

All at once, you come undone. Your muscles tense, pushing him away and pulling him closer all at once. It feels like a lifetime of pleasure condensed into a single moment.

“Oh, God,” you keen as the pleasure quickly morphs to pain, “s’too much!”

But all he heard was your praise. He was drunk on the feeling of fluttering walls and the sticky sweet taste of your release.

“It’s too much!” you sob.

He stops long enough to growl, “One more.”

Then he’s gone again. He keeps going until he fulfills his quest. Until your shaking ceases and you turn limp. Until you are sobbing with pleasure, with tears coating your cheeks. Until the only thing he can hear is mangled versions of his name.

When you fall apart again, he finally relents.

He draws his fingers out of you slowly so he can watch how you twitch. He looks at you with a sated, glistening smile.

“Sorry,” he chuckles when he realizes what a mess he’s made of you. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

The tenderness he usually carries returns quickly. By the time he is close enough to kiss salty, damp cheeks, he is the same sweet boy he (almost) always is.

But after a few innocent kisses, you notice a more sinister pressure of his erection against your stomach.

“We can stop,” he whispers against your cheek.

You know it will be too much.

Yet you smile when you answer, “Don’t you dare.”

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Your back is pressed against his body, and, specifically, his dick is carefully wedged between soft cheeks.

“Fuck,” he whispers, half-hoping you’ll wake.

When you don’t, the more sinister side of him is almost pleased at the opportunity to enjoy a few more seconds of sleepy bliss.

His arm is already draped over your waist, but he flattens his hand against your stomach slowly. He wants to be sure that when you stir, you feel just how close you’ve drifted in an unconscious state.

Once he has you properly in his hold, he presses his hips forward. His body shudders at the friction. He moves again, this time pushing down on your hips and causing your back to arch against him.

You finally begin to wake.

As soon as he hears beautiful, groggy whines, he slips his hand past the waistband of your underwear.

“Good morning,” he whispers in your ear.

It’s your turn to be covered in goosebumps. You gasp when you feel his fingers part slick folds. You’re hardly awake, but his touch is as familiar and comforting as it’s ever been.

“G’morning,” you hum back happily.

Even within his crushing embrace, you manage to reach your legs back to tangle with his. Your heart is racing already, and you wonder how long he must’ve been grinding against your sleeping figure for your body to be so prepared for him already.

His fingers press into you and find no resistance. As they’re enveloped by your waiting heat, Spencer wraps his lips around the sensitive skin over your pulse point.

Immediately, your hand shoots down to push your underwear down. It still isn’t quick enough for you.

Spencer smiles against your neck. He enjoys each whimper you give as you suffer from wanting.

“Someone’s excited,” he slurs between slow kisses.

“Look who’s talking,” you chuckle.

To prove your point more fully, you arch your back further.

Spencer groans as the motion causes you to press harder against him. But that competitive spirit quickly resurfaced and took charge once more. His fingers that are still inside you sink deeper. He forces them down to the knuckle and uses his new grip to tilt your hips impossibly further forward.

“You should be grateful I woke you up so nicely,” he taunts.

Releasing some of the pressure, he sneaks his other hand between your bodies before he issues a warning that sets your body on fire.

“I could’ve been a lot meaner.”

He wraps a hand around his length and guides it to your heat. His fingers are still inside of you, and they suddenly feel woefully inadequate. Your body is already craving the full extent of him. You are squirming once more, trying to move up the bed to free his fingers so he could continue with what he’d originally planned.

Spencer chuckles at your desperation.

You don’t care.

“Please,” you say under your breath, “Please, fuck me.”

He appreciates the begging and gives in to your demands, albeit slower than you would like. As his hands pull away, he makes sure to drag the wetness over your thigh.

It was yet another reminder that, no matter who had started it, you had wanted it just as badly.

“Were you having sweet dreams?” he teases.

You don’t know how to answer. Truthfully, the line between reality and imagination felt blurry at best that morning. Your mind runs wild with fantasies to explore further at a future date.

Spencer accepts your silence as an admission of guilt, regardless of the variety.

“Naughty girl,” he chuckles just as the head of his dick slides between slick folds. Then, with a bittersweet cruelty, he teases, “Maybe I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

With one swift motion, he thrusts into you. You choke on a shameless moan. You don’t even bother to bury your face in the pillow because you want him to hear how good it feels to be filled with him.

Part of him wishes he could be more aloof about his pursuit. It would be so much fun for you to be the only one who is desperate, for your whorish moans to echo in an otherwise silent room. He so desperately wants to prove that you are the one who wants it more.

But that would be a lie. Because it feels like heaven between your thighs. He listens to your voice shift octaves as he reaches new depths inside you, and he likens the sound to how others speak of angels.

He forces himself to slow down. He is reserved in his motions, soft as he takes his time running gentle fingers over your trembling figure.

You can feel the gentle thrumming of his heart from inside of you. He splays a hand over your chest and pulls you back until you can feel it against your back, too.

His hand plays lazily with your breasts before it creeps down until it rests between your legs again. There, it finds the sensitive nub just above where your bodies meet.

“I like it when you’re nice,” you giggle.

“Yeah?” he teases. His fingers slide easily around your clit, just as carefully and practiced as his hips that stayed where they are.

You want to answer, but his ministrations cause your muscles to tense. That action, in turn, makes you even more acutely aware of how deep inside you he really is.

He kisses your jaw as if to prove that he can be nice when he wants to be.

Then, with a smirk, he growls, “You like it when I’m mean, too.”

Without withdrawing, he bucks his hips hard against you. The sensation it causes is nearly blinding, and you are almost dizzy with the pleasure.

His fingers move even faster, his hips continuing to fuck you harder while his other hand holds your shoulder down to keep you where he wants you.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he begs between clenched teeth, “Make me proud.”

The tension throughout your body snaps. You gasp for air as your muscles clamp around him like a vice.

Distantly, you hear him groan with relief. You feel the warmth fill your body that is aching for it; the soft throbbing of spent bodies seeking to come even closer somehow.

His hips still grind against you with staccato thrusts, but his hand rests softly above where your bodies are still joined. You feel all the evidence of your desire pooling at the base of your bodies, and you shudder in response.

Instinctively, Spencer pulls you closer to keep you warm.

Happiness radiates from you both as you smile. The sun creeps over to bathe you both in the light of a new day, and the morning continues like the most beautiful dream.

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