lou

you’d never thought twice about it when you and steve started your… fling. all those comments and hushed rumours from all the girls before about what was in his pants.

so what he was packing? that didn’t mean anything to you, nor did it make you want to sleep with him more. five inches or eight, what difference did it really make?

well— maybe you’d thought twice about it when your hand was over his jeans, cupping his bulge — feeling the weight for just a second before he pressed against you.

maybe when your make out sessions had gotten too heated, finding yourself on his lap in the front seat of his car — feeling the bulk of it, tight behind the denim.

juuust maybe when he reached down to readjust before sneaking out of your house — seeing the way his large hand gripped around it before it disappeared from your sight.

but other than that, you never really thought about it— it’s almost like it didn’t exist to you.

not a single thought. not at all.

“holy shit, harrington.”

you’re on your knees in front of him (bad start), his belt unbuckled, jeans and boxers shoved down to his mid thigh.

“what?” he tries to act coy, thumb resting at the base as his eyes flicker between you and the sight — but you don’t miss the small scoff of pride, his lips curling up ever so slightly.

you frown, tempted to back up a bit. “uhh, the fuckin’ weapon in my face right now.”

his brows furrow together in offence. “weapon? what— it’s not—” he scoffs multiple times, looking down to match your gaze.

silence passes for a few seconds too long as he starts to feel a little embarrassed. “would you stop staring and just…” his voice comes out quiet, his hand subtly wrapping around it — either to hide it or encourage you.

“oh i- i don’t think i can.” he swallows, confused and a little flushed. “like… physically.” you add in all seriousness, raising your eyebrows as you keep your eyes on him.

you’ve never seen him so red, stood there like a lost puppy who’d just been told he can’t play. he’s lost for words, his throat dry in the most deathly awkward moment of his life.

“i’m kidding.” you whisper.

“you—” his chest rises with a deep breath of relief. “not funny, like at all.” he groans, running his hand over his face.

you giggle, shifting forward to wrap your hand around him. “i hope that’s not your idea of foreplay.” he murmurs, letting go to run his hands through his hair. “cause it needs some work— i mean like, serious rethinking.”

you tilt your head, pressing your lips to the tip for a small kiss as your hand tugs back and forth gently. “didn’t like the ego boost?”

he’s not as quippy, eyes a little more out of focus as he watches with quiet, shallow breaths. “it was hardly an ego boost.”

“so you’re not turned on by the thought of… being too big to fit?” you hum out, watching your hand gently squeeze his length.

his breath catches, like it isn’t the first time he’s thought of it. “n-no.” he swallows hard as you kiss the tip again, just as teasing as before. “not particularly.” he lies.

you hum out curiously, as if you didn’t believe him (which you didn’t), before wrapping your lips around him — gently sucking. his breath is shallow, uneven as he tries not to let a noise slip.

you suck him down further, feeling the ache in your jaw just trying to take more of him — his cock heavy on your tongue and stuffing your mouth full.

“jesus— you’re not exactly… struggling.” he groans out, instinctively letting his hand spread across the back of your head — resisting the urge to push and feel more of your throat that already has his legs tensing.

it’s addictive. the weight of it, every vein — every pulse. the fact your tongue can’t even reach it all when half his dick has disappeared between your lips. you want to taste, swallow it all down, coat every inch in salivation.

spit pools at the corner of your lips as his dick eases back and forth. he’s more focused on the way you flick your tongue across the bottom, sucking hard — than how deep you’re going. until your lips meet the base, just for a second before you pull back with a gag.

“o-oh fuuck.” his head tilts back, body turning hot with the feeling. “jesus christ.” he whispers out like prayer— like he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.

you find yourself grinding your hips down, clit rubbing along the seam of your jeans like you were a dog in heat. something about steve packing what he was packing, had you dizzy with need — embarrassingly so as you pull back, hands finding his hips to push him back onto his bed.

“shit.” he whispers as you straddle him, lips locking with his in a familiar haze of making out.

what wasn’t so familiar was his fingers fidgeting to unzip your jeans — hand dipping into your underwear as he pulls away just far enough to whisper against your lips. “this okay?”

you nod a little too enthusiastically, gripping his shoulders as he contorts his wrist, swiping his fingers through your slick before slipping one in. slowly easing, curling up gently till he grazes the spot — hearing the raw moan rip through you, the sound heading straight to his dick.

“oh god… steve.” it’s the hottest his name has ever sounded, coming from your throat with praise and sincerity.

“right there?” his middle finger prods deeper for a second before pulling back, repeating the motion as you grind against his hand — as if all it took was for you to get fingered by steve harrington to shut your gob and reach some sort of new out of body sensation.

his cock lays across his abdomen, under you, leaking with precum for an ungodly sight that has you throbbing even more. “you’re so wet, like… fuckin’ soaked.” his voice is a little strained with sheer lust, clearly more than desperate to have his dick there instead.

he drags his hand out, fingers shiny from your slick. he looks like a deer caught in headlights, cogs turning in his brain as he hesitates. “i tasted you.” you murmur, hooking thumbs into the waistband of your jeans to tug them down as you lean forward to whisper in his ear. “return the favour.”

all the colour from his face drains. throat bobbing, breath shaky, dick twitching. every sign that he wanted to — and did. his face beat red as he sucks his fingers clean, hoping your eyes wouldn’t be solely trained on him as you shuffled out of your bottoms.

but you saw, well enough to know he was holding back from sinking his tongue deep into your cunt for another taste — instead wiping his fingers clean on his jeans before shoving them down, along with his boxers, and throwing them to the floor.

his back hits the bed quickly as you climb on top of him, pushing the hem of his top up slowly as you trail kisses along his torso. “you’re so hot— god… so fuckin’ hot.” he breathes out, almost too quiet for you to hear — fingers running through his hair to push the strands out of his flushed face.

“mm, i think you’re just in a haze, harrington.” you retort, making your way up to his neck where you leave a scatter of kisses and nips — that all make him impossibly squirmy.

his brows furrow in confusion, hands finding their way to your hips instinctively as your bare pussy hovers above his aching dick. “a haze?” he murmurs, unable to pull his eyes away from the sight further down.

your lips curl up as your hand reaches down to tease the tip of his dick against your hole. “yeah, a sex haze.”

there’s no room for a response from him, not when you’re sinking down with your eyes rolled back — feeling him stretch you out and fill you up in a way you never had been before.

sure you’d had sex, and it had felt good — but something about steve, and more specifically his hefty dick, just had you. eager for all of it, greedy even — like you wouldn’t be happy until every inch was inside and you were stuffed to the brim.

“fuck, are you—” he groans, looking down at where your bodies join in disbelief.

“is this…? is this good?” you pant out. a strangled noise comes out, followed by a tightened grip as his eyes screw shut.

but he’s nodding, at your mercy. “shit, it’s… amazing.” he swallows at his own words, clearly not in the right state to articulate himself correctly. “just, uh, never gone all the way.”

you’re beyond confused, before it registers in your brain. “no one’s ever taken all of it?” you can’t help the pride that slips past in your tone.

he shakes his head, scoffing as his gaze locks on the way his dick has completely disappeared inside of you — all sucked in, almost like you were trying to take more that wasn’t even there. “not like this.”

that spurs you on, your hips lifting up before coming back down — establishing a gentle rhythm that feels like fucking heaven.

somewhere in your new found pleasure, clothes start coming off — anything either of you still had on finding its way to his bed or the floor, leaving room for both your lips and hands to explore.

“your dick’s so fucking big, steve.” he groans at that, sultry words fizzling through his body, straight down south.

his fingers dig into your hips the same way yours do into his shoulders, grounding yourself hard as you fuck yourself on him like no one’s watching. but he is. eyes trained on your body, the bliss on your face, the twitch in your thighs as you exhaust yourself. and all he can think about is doing this over and over again with you.

your eyes are shut though, mind in another place — only focused on the feeling of his cock repeatedly hitting the spot. every. single. time. you let your hand pull away from his shoulder, lingering down to circle around your sensitive clit.

it’s an immediate pulse around him, suffocating his dick perfectly in waves. “s-shit.” he grits out, losing his cool as he sees what you’re doing — the feeling making his balls thump and draw up. “oh— fuck.” he does everything he can to hold off, thrusting up into you to push you over the edge.

it’s ridiculously effective. every ounce of built up tension in you snapping in a split second. “steve! oh god—” your words cut off into loud moans, tumbling out as your gummy walls spasm around his dick. your fingers twitching over your nerves to pull you through your orgasm.

you hardly notice as he lifts you up, enough for his dick to slip out — spurts of cum costing his torso as he whines out ever so slightly panicked. “fuck, fuck— mmh.”

only when your hand rushes to tug at his dick does he relax, letting the pleasure rush through him as you pull out the last of his orgasm.

“jeez.” you’re both out of breath, pulling apart your sweaty bodies the second you come down from your highs — you already heading to the bathroom. “you good?” he calls out, sitting up to reach for the box of tissues on his nightstand.

you’re halfway out of the door, heading down the hall to the bathroom on trembling legs. “all good, big dick harrington.” you murmur back, missing the way he scoffs and shakes his head at the name.