₊˚⊹♡ ݁٠࣪˖✧˚࿔ ✮⋆.˚

Your revelation falls onto Ryland like an uneven glacial cascade. His mind doesn't register it at first — you see the resistance in the series of blinks he's sending your way — and he only realizes that you aren't bluffing when your eyes remain adamant in avoiding his inquisitive stare. He doesn't mean to disconcert or embarrass you more than you already are, brought by your admission that you haven't found relief on your own terms for a while, and that you've yet to address the pressure that has been building up inside you.

Nevertheless, his concern overrides his own inherent bashfulness. He rewrites the script, and breaches the invisible field of unease that the situation has conjured. The close proximity prompts you to look up at him — now merely inches away from being daubed with his warmth.

"Do you… want me to help?" Ryland asks. He doesn't tip your chin his way; he chooses to follow you; he peers into your face with that kind look he always puts on when he's easing you into something new. It tells you that there's no need to rush; you don't have to do it if you're scared or unsure.

This time, though — like all the other times where he's able to wheedle you out of your own head — you took his hand, and you followed him willingly.

Ryland's got you cornered and surrounded by all the pillows in his bed. Your hands — initially at a loss for their designated resting place — keep your thighs parted as you watch him acquainting himself with your cunt, that's anticipating a kind of touch that isn't your own.

He starts with kittenish touches. His fingertips caress the soft, wet cleft; he pays close attention to your clit once he reaches north, and he leans in to kiss you, taking up the sounds that escape your lips as he reveals the bud without the aid of vision. The response he elicits is instantaneous. And loud. You let out a needy sigh. Your teeth bite down on your lip out of instinct, but Ryland convinces you otherwise.

"No, no," he shakes his head. Your vision spins as his index flicks at your clit. "Don't bite." He uses his thumb to free your lower lip from the snag, and he replaces the sensation with a prolonged kiss.

Ryland parts from you after thoroughly mapping out your mouth with his tongue, evinced by the shimmering string of saliva that connects your orifices for an ephemeral second. He smiles. It's hot, he thinks, and very cute, but he needs to focus on the task at hand.

He uses both of his hands on you. One is running appreciating the curves and dips of your torso; pinching and tweaking your nipples; fondling your breasts (he bends down to suck on them, too) and sweeping up and down the expanse of your tummy, coming close enough to your mons for a small tease.

It's not like you're bereft of stimulus down south, anyway. You're submerged in it, in fact. Your ears are ringing, for the first time, from the squelch of his fingers pulling out and pushing into your wet heat, made pliant and primed for blunt intrusion by none other than Ryland himself.

He, on his end of the deed, is studying your reaction. That's second nature to a man of science like him, and right now you're his most precious hypothesis, waiting to be proven and satisfied by his desire to fulfill your unmet needs.

Where do you like it most? How many nudges will it take until you start babbling; telling him to not brush the pads of his middle and ring fingers in that spot while simultaneously chasing the feel of his hand?

Ryland obtains the answer to the first question right away. You've been producing more desperate sounds each time he angles his digits a certain way, so he adjusts. He recalibrates, curls them towards your navel, and starts prodding at that slightly rougher spot.

You melt under his influence. It's like turning up a dial to the highest setting — so sudden, yet so satisfying and… beautiful. Your quiet moans rise into a heightened pitch, disjointed and near-sob, and Ryland coos at your change in demeanor.

He's smiling. He presses his forehead onto yours as he praises you. I know, mm-hm, I know, it's right here, yeah? You nod helplessly as you thrash, and he doesn't falter. He resorts to tapping more firmly up into the textured patch, and that only drives you crazier than before.

You don't really know how loud you're being, and frankly, you don't care. You're mewling a garbled version of his name and a term of endearment you've awarded to him, all while begging him for more; more, Ry — harder, harder, harder… You want it all; everything he can give and everything you've yearned for are coalescing into a swift tailspin.

You're gripping his unrelenting wrist while seeking anchorage on the rumpled coverlet beneath you. You thank yourself for obtaining it, because Ryland brings you closer to the edge when he presses his other hand into your lower abdomen. That's when you hear yourself cry out. Tears well along your lash line, rendering your vision blurry and unhelpful. You don't have much need for it anyway. You can feel Ryland everywhere.

Even when you cum, he doesn't stop. He holds you through every crest of the wave, helping you land gradually on your back, until you've come to terms that you've finally gotten the release you've been wanting for so long.

You catch your breath against the plush support of the pillows. You fight through the heft of your lids as you watch Ryland lick up every drop of your cum from his fingers, all the way down to the base of his palm, because that's how much he had you gushing on just one hand. Ryland leans forward to kiss you, a reward for a job well done, and also a way for him to propose an extension; a replication of the results that his successful run was able to achieve.

Lars tugged nervously at his shirt. "Are you sure?" He looked down at himself, adjusting his jeans too. "What if they think I look stupid?"

"So what, Lars?" You took a few steps closer, standing directly in front of him now. Your hands found his collar and smoothed it down. "You look incredibly handsome. Too handsome, actually. I don't know how I'm going to control myself all night."

Blush started to creep out from under Lars' shirt and up his neck. His ears were red before you even finished your sentence. He needed to redirect this conversation. "Y-you need to get in your costume. Will you tell me what it is now?"

You flashed him a grin. "A tree." As you turned away to gather up your costume pieces, Lars followed after you, stuttering out his words. "But.. But that means I have to chop you down. I don't want to make it look like I hurt you."

You smirked to yourself before masking your already simmering idea with faux-innocent eyes then turning around. "I know you'd never hurt me, Lars. Chopping down your tree doesn't have to be a bad thing. Lumberjacks inspect the trees, right?" You took a step closer to him, reaching out to run your fingers down his forearm.

Lars' furrowed his brows and nodded. "Yeah. I think so." He hadn't caught onto your little game yet. He was still trying to figure out a way to explain a tree-hugger lumberjack to everyone at the party.

"So, you could give me a real nice inspection and if I meet all of your qualifications for a good tree you could use your wood to take care of me." You winked to punctuate your sentence, causing Lars' eyes to widen and his mouth to fall open slightly. You could see the cogs turning in his mind as he processed the underlying meaning of your flirting. You continued before he could get any words out. "Can I go get my costume on now or do we need to figure out how you're gonna chop me down later?"

Lars shook his head a little, his cheeks a bright pink. He shut his mouth and looked down at the fake axe in his hands, then at his half-chub starting to strain against his jeans. He sighed and sat down on the couch, shutting his eyes tight and laying his head back in hopes of forgetting about what you had said to him until at least the end of the party.

When Lars saw you in your costume for the first time his hopes of not being worked up were gone completely. You were in a tight brown lace pattern dress that stopped just above your knees. Over your arms was a super cropped, mesh shirt with long flowing sleeves. It was a beautiful shade of green and covered in fake leaves. You had leaves wrapped all around you and a leafy headpiece with a few branch details. Your heels were a nice leafy green too, finishing off everything perfectly. You did a little spin as you stood in the small living room. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful." Lars swiftly stood and made his way over to you before you could blink. He reached out to gently run his hands along your sides. He was comfortable enough with touch at this point. His fingers danced along the dress, getting a feel of the material. He liked how soft it was and how he could feel the warmth of your body through it. His hands ended up on your shoulders then down your arms as he toyed with the fake leaves wrapped all around your top. His eyes were wide and he was enamored. Who knew a tree could be this beautiful? Finally, Lars' eyes met yours. His face was flushed again and he was trying to muster up enough courage to compliment you again. "The dress fits really nice."

Lars' genuineness with his words brought a blush to your cheeks too. "Thank you." You leaned closer and looked down at his lips. You were hoping to signal him to kiss you, and it worked perfectly. Lars leaned in too and pressed a sweet kiss to your mouth. As his soft lips moved slowly against yours, he moved on of his hands to press against the small of your back and bring you closer. His other hand was politely holding your waist, thumb rubbing against the soft fabric of your dress. Him pulling you in elicited a quiet moan from you, and Lars took the chance to brush his tongue across your bottom lip then lick into your mouth. Lars had picked up on kissing so quickly. He went from having no experience to being the best kisser out of all your past relationships. Maybe it was because he knew your body so well, but you didn't have to know the reason why to enjoy the kissing.

You reached up and tugged off the trapper hat he was wearing so you could run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Lars kissed you for a moment longer before pulling his lips away with a soft sigh. The loss almost made you whine. If Lars wasn't completely indulging in his sexual feelings, he could pull himself away from a slightly heated moment like nothing. You two were rarely ever late for anything, but it was incredibly frustrating to be in the receiving end of things. He was looking down at the watch on his wrist. "We need to go."

"Kiss me?" You pleaded. He was too good at it for you not to want more. "A quick one before we go."

Lars smiled softly and pecked your lips. He took his hat from you and pulled it back on. "Let's me grab the cookies, then we'll leave." He disappeared into the kitchen only to return with a Tupperware container in his arms full of iced cookies. He made them jack-o-lanterns to match the party theme.

He smiled sweetly at you, proud of his cookies again upon seeing them. "Let's go to the car." He glanced around the living room in search of anything he may have forgotten. His face lit up with acknowledgement and he grabbed his axe before heading out the door. You followed behind with a soft smile.

~♡~

The sheer size of the crowd at Cindy's party was a bit jarring. Everyone was dressed up, which made you feel less awkward. You could see character costumes from at least 15 different franchises, and it was honestly refreshing. Seeing all the diversity was nice and there were a few costumes that you recognized. Lars wouldn't mind if you went around and socialized with everyone. He had been getting better with small talk if he decided to follow along.

The soft music playing was a really nice touch. Everyone mingled around happily. After about half an hour of greeting and short catching-up, you found your way into the kitchen and grabbed a couple beers for you and Lars. You glanced into the living room and caught sight of Lars sat on the couch. He was leaned back, his arms folded across his chest. The way his flannel was straining around his biceps was absolutely delectable. It almost made your mouth water. You let your eyes trail down his body unabashedly. Everyone else was too worried with themselves to notice you admiring your boyfriend. He was manspreading just enough for it to be attractive. His jeans fit just as well as his flannel did. You couldn't wait to unbutton them and watch his hard cock borderline burst out of them. Outside of all of the not-so-pure thoughts, you couldn't help but admire how handsome he was. He had the sweetest face you had ever seen, and you took your time to appreciate it along with his biceps. His mustache looked exceptionally perfect tonight, being the perfect compliment to his costume.

After a few minutes of silent staring, you collected yourself with a deep breath and made your way back into the living room to rejoin Lars and a few other party goers. Lars welcomed you back with a sweet smile and happily accepted the beer you brought for him. Cindy had joined the group while you were away. She just now had enough time to get around to greeting you and Lars. The turnout was much more than expected this time. Cindy waved at you paired with a happy smile. "It's good to see you two! I love your costumes." She gestured with her hand. She was dressed as a witch, her husband matching her as a wizard.

It was a really cute couples costume and you filed it away for one of the many more Halloween parties you and Lars would attend throughout your lives. You were going to marry this man eventually, you swore on it. "Thank you! With the way Lars loves to chop wood, I felt like a lumberjack would be perfect."

Cindy and a few of the other women nodded in agreement. They all thought Lars was a cutie (how could they not?), and they were all overjoyed when they heard about you two dating. They all felt as if Lars deserved a real woman and some woman out there deserved his kindness. One of the women you couldn't remember the name of, who was dressed as Sherlock Holmes, leaned in to ask a question. "Were you the one who made those jack-o-lantern cookies, Lars?"

Lars shifted a little. It always worried him when other people brought up his baking. He was terrified of it being bad. Usually he was quite confident in his abilities, like his wood chopping or board game skilld, but he never knew if someone would like a certain flavor or not. He nodded and blinked quickly. He felt your hand rest on his knee as a sort of comfort.

"They are amazing! How did you make them?"

"Them being jack-o-lanterns was adorable too!"

"I had three!"

The small group of ladies quickly burst into compliments and praises about the cookies. They had known Lars brought them because his baking was always above and beyond, and he also brought the same container everytime. Lars looked down at his hands, blushing softly at how everyone was acting towards him. He wasn't used to all of the compliments at once; especially about something he enjoyed doing but wasn't the most confident in sharing. You poked his leg to grab his attention and gave him a very proud smile. It wasn't a surprise to you that everyone loved his cookies. He was great at making them.

Margo made her way into the living room to join the larger group. She was dressed as The Very Hungry Caterpillar. She did a great job with the costume, having turned a red beanie into the caterpillars head and dressed herself in various shades of green. She had on green striped tights that worked perfectly for the outfit. She slowly turned the music up, hoping to get a few people to dance. Once you realized what she was trying to do, you jumped up at the opportunity and made your way across the room to join her. You sipped your beer and started to playfully dance with her, the both of you giggling softly as a few other people joined in.

Lars watched with a warm smile. Compared to him at the first of Cindy's parties that he attended, he was so much happier. You were warm, happy, and real in many ways. He tried not to dwell on it too hard. He wanted to enjoy this moment. He quickly came back to himself when he noticed you wiggling around across the room. You couldn't have been doing it purposefully, but the way your hips were swaying made Lars feel like he was falling into some sort of trance. That dress hugged your curves so nicely and he couldn't look away. He didn't want to. He crossed his legs and cleared his throat, looking up at your smiling face again. He wondered if you were as worked up as he was. He couldn't stop thinking about what you had told him before you two left, about what you had asked him to do. Thinking about something like that in public was devilsh of him, he thought.

Lars' little fantasy was shattered when Kurt stood right in his view of you. He looked up at him and smiled somewhat awkwardly, hoping he hadn't been caught. "Hi, Kurt."

"Cool costume," Kurt waved his one of his hands towards Lars. His other hand was occupied with a beer. He was dressed as Superman, but in the most half-assed way he could have gone about it. He had on a Superman t-shirt and a white, halfway undone, button up. His only accessory were fake glasses. It was clever enough that Lars didn't mind the lack of effort.

"Thanks." He watched Kurt sit down, then quickly put his eyes back on you. You weren't swaying your hips anymore, but you still did look very pretty and very cute. Lars was happy enough with that.

"So.. How are you and the lady doing?" Kurt gestured towards you with his beer can. He had a smirk on his face, signaling to Lars that he meant something different than what he had said. He decided to ignore it and answer his question normally.

"Good." Lars responded plainly. He didn't want to feed into Kurt's games right now. He was too busy watching you enjoy yourself, which is something that he was very happy to see.

Kurt leaned in and lowered his voice before asking his next question. "What about, uh.. the bedroom? You finally into that stuff?" He smirked a little and scanned Lars expression. "It's not the same with something that can talk back."

Lars' brows furrowed and he started to wring his hands. He didn't like talking about your private endeavors with other people. Those things were personal and sacred, two things Kurt was nowhere near to Lars. "That's not your business."

"Just friendly chatting between friends, Lars. If you hung out with more guys you would know that." Kurt sighed and leaned back to his original position. "She's not my type anyway, so I'm not trying to steal her from you."

Lars looked over at Kurt, his brows still furrowed as he stared at him tight lipped. "Don't talk about her like that." As he looked over you were heading over to the couch.

"Come dance with me, Lars!" You smiled sweetly at him and held your hand out, hoping to entice him.

Lars smiled softly at you. He reached out to hold your hand but he didn't budge. "I can't dance.."

"Please?" You took a step closer, swaying slightly. "You can just stand with me then." You smiled warmly and giggled. You were enjoying yourself far more than you thought you would.

"Fine." Lars stood up, still holding your hand, and followed after you towards the radio. He couldn't bite back his smile.

~♡~

Lars opened the car door for you, smiling softly as he watched you get in. The first thing you did was kick off your heels and lean over to push Lars' door open for him. He always appreciated the gesture. Lars hummed softly as he climbed into the driver's seat. He looked over at you with wide smile as he tugged off his hat. His hair was an absolute mess. You giggled before reaching over to smooth it down, Lars leaning into your warm hands. "Tonight was a lot of fun."

"It was," you agreed. "But it's not over yet." You leaned across the console to press a quick kiss to his lips. "You looked so good all night, Lars. Your arms are nearly bursting out of this shirt." You reached over and squeezed his biceps to emphasize your point.

Lars was turning red faster than you could speak. He blushed at everything even slightly flirty. He couldn't help it, and he really did try to. "You look really pretty too. Very pretty." He let out a soft sigh reaching over to put his hand on your thigh. His hand pressed against your bare skin, sending tingle up your leg and up his arm. He leaned in again, sealing the distance between the two of you with another kiss. This one was much deeper than the last, and he slid his hand up ever so slightly. A warm feeling flooded your body at the touch. Heat already simmering in your lower abdomen from the earlier contact. Lars pulled himself away before things could go any further.

"Uhm.." Lars wiped at his lips and blinked hard. "Let's get back to my house."

That in itself was an excellent sign. Lars didn't even mention dropping you off at your house! He instantly went with you spending the night, which you had already secretly prepared for by bringing a set of pajamas along with your costume. You nodded and watched as he started his car and sped out of Cindy's driveway. You decided the car ride back was the perfect time to have a little fun with him. "Your jeans fit you really well too. They hug your ass just right, did you know?" You could see the blush darkening on his cheeks again.

"You were looking?" Lars asked meekly.

"I might've stole a couple glances.." You giggled softly. "You still have to inspect this tree.. It's your duty as a lumberjack. You're really skilled with your wood, right?" You smiled as you spoke, knowing the kind of effect it had on Lars. He was gripping the steering wheel tighter and shifting in his seat.

"I have to focus on driving." He pleaded. His knuckles were already going white from the grip he had on the wheel. His entire face was red at this point, and he was already hard from the talk alone.

"Mm.. Fine. I'll leave you be since we're close to home." You snickered quietly and laid back in your seat. You shamelessly stared at him as he drove, taking in the generous bulge in his pants and the flex of his hands against the wheel. You couldn't wait until his hands were on you.

The rest of the drive was quiet. The air was thick with desire and anticipation. Lars harshly turned into his driveway, not taking the time to park properly before the car was shut off and he was waddling around to your door. He pulled it open and picked you up out of the seat. He didn't wait for you to climb out. He shut the door and hurried down his driveway and up to his front door.

You giggled loudly as he rushed to get you inside. "What are you doing?"

"Carrying you inside. I wanted to get in fast." Lars pushed open his door and stepped inside. He kicked the door closed behind him, then his mouth was on yours. There was only so much teasing the poor man could take. After a long moment of sweet kissing, he pulled away. "Was that okay?"

"Yes." The word came out of you breathlessly, then your lips were on his again. He reached a hand up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers lightly playing in your hair as he kissed you. You wanted to devour him. He looked too good not to. You were pulling away just long enough to get your words out. "Lars, couch." Then you two were kissing again.

Lars took a few steps back until he felt the back of his calves hit the couch. He swiftly sat down and positioned you on his lap. Both of you were already breathing heavier, your cheeks tinged pink. Lars slid his hands up your thighs, letting your dress ride up slightly. He looked down at your smooth skin and ran his fingertips along the inner portion of your thighs. His touch was getting you soaked. "Lars.. You're teasing me." You rolled your hips, grinding down into him as you did so.

The friction caused both of you to moan quietly. Lars' hands flew up to rest on your hips. His cock was straining so hard against his tight jeans. "I.. I've been thinking about you all night." He watched you roll your hips again and his bucked slightly in response. You wanted the clothes out of the way and so did Lars. He had been waiting all night and this felt like torture. Really pleasant and arousing torture, but torture nonetheless.

That brought a smile to your face. His words were genuine and flirty without trying to be. You slid your hands up his chest and started undoing the buttons of his flannel. You needed to see what you had been fantasizing about all night. "I had fun, but I couldn't wait to get home. I couldn't keep my eyes off of you, Lars. I couldn't stop imagining what we would do as soon as we got somewhere private.."

As you spoke, Lars' eyes darkened. He remembered how heads turned when you two walked in, the glances from other men towards you, what Kurt had asked. Something had been burning in Lars all night. Something about tonight was different. He reached up to grab your hands, holding them there so you couldn't undo the buttons. Fear briefly washed over you. Had you pushed him too far? Said too much? He was still sensitive sometimes. Before you could ask him, he was leaning in and pressing warm kisses to your neck. "I want you." Then his hands were sliding your dress up even further. This was new.

"Oh, Lars.. Where did that come from?" You tilted your head to the side to give him better access to your neck. Your hand slid up to rest in his hair, your other hand clutching his flannel. Usually Lars wasn't confident enough to take the lead. You guys hadn't done enough for you to label him yet, but you had started to think that you would be leading forever. This was completely different.

"I saw how.. how people were looking at you, what people were saying.." Lars gripped your hip tighter, rubbing his fingers up and down your thigh with his other hand. "You're mine," He growled against your skin. His words sent a shiver up your spine and a gush in your panties. You moaned softly and tried to roll your hips again, but Lars had them locked into place.

Lars' lips trailed up to your neck and along your jaw. The hand not gripping your hip came up to remove your headpiece and toss it to the side. Both of his hands slid up to start unbuttoning his flannel. You took the opportunity to start rutting against him. He pressed his lips to your ear and moaned softly, unable to bite it back. "Is all of this okay?" There was the sweet Lars you were used to.

You nodded quickly. You didn't want to discourage this behavior in the slightest. "Show me I'm yours, Lars." You punctuated your sentence with a slow roll of your hips. The hem of your dress was nearly at your hips now from all of the movement.

The moan those words elicited from the back of Lars' throat was something you hadn't ever heard out of him before. He tossed his flannel to the side with your headpiece. He still had on another two layers to deal with, but they could wait a couple minutes. His lips were on yours again as his hands roamed your body. He couldn't keep his hips from rutting helplessly against yours. He wanted to bury himself in your wet cunt more than anything, to feel completely surrounded with you and for you to be completely full of him. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and stood, carrying you straight to his bedroom. You stripped off your top as he carried you, being left in only your dress.

Lars was kissing all over the exposed skin of your chest as he laid you down. You expected him to climb over you and continue all of this, but he was gone. Your eyes shot open and you raised your head in search of him. He was standing at the foot of his bed, unbuttoning his jeans fervently. As he unzipped them, his hard cock pushed out of it's denim confines, then his pants were in a pile next to his bed. You really wished he would have taken his underwear with them, but you wouldn't mind taking them off of him yourself. There was already a small wet spot on the front of his boxers. You were sure your panties were soaked too.

You started to pull up your dress, hoping to get to things faster. You just wanted to give Lars a hand. You laid your head back and reached down to grab the hem of your rolled up dress. As you raised your hips to slide the dress up, Lars' big hand pressed against your stomach and pushed you back down. "What are you doing?"

"Taking my dress off for you. Helping." You blushed softly at the sight of him. His eyes were dark again. He looked hungrier than you had ever seen him. His cock was straining so hard against his boxers. If he was just a bit closer you could reach out and touch him. Your eyes raked over the expanse of his torso and you couldn't wait to feel him pressed against you.

Lars shook his head and leaned himself over you. "I'll take care of it." He positioned himself in between your open legs and starting sliding his hands up your thighs. His composure was quickly breaking from the sight of you laid out in front of him. When he got the dress up over your head and tossed over to the side with his pants, he couldn't help but lean down and kiss you. Lars couldn't keep himself from kissing you every chance he got. He slid his hands along your newly exposed skin, desperately trying to keep himself collected long enough to take good care of you. He pulled himself away and scooted down his bed. He was staring at your light blue panties and trying not to drool from the little wet spot that had formed on them. He was stuck between wanting to eat you out or finger you, both of which he knew he was good at. He looked up at you as he hooked his fingers around the band of your panties.

You gave him a soft smile and a nod. Your panties were gone in an instant. The cool air made you shift slightly. Lars hummed at the sight of your slick cunt. He wanted desperately to bury himself between your pretty folds, but there were other parts of you he wanted to give attention to first. He leaned over you and slid his hands along your bra. "Can I..?"

You nodded to him again and arched your back to help him get to the clasp. He fumbled with the clasp for a moment before finally getting it undone and carefully removing your bra. He audibly hummed when he saw your tits. It was one of his favorite parts of you for a multitude of reasons, not just sexual ones. He dipped his head down and started pressing kisses all around your chest. Before you could even process those kisses, his mouth was around your nipple. A soft sigh left you as a wave of pleasure washed over your body. The comfort was quickly diminishing as Lars' fingers worked on your other breast.

You moaned weakly as he pulled away. "Don't stop, please." You wanted something, anything, after being so worked up all night. You couldn't handle anymore longing looks or ghosting fingertips. You needed Lars so deeply.

Lars sighed softly. "I won't." He trailed kisses down your sternum, your stomach, then down your hip and to your thigh. He pushed your legs open as he slid further down his bed. He grumbled quietly when he realized he was going to have to kneel at the foot of it. He sat down on his knees on the ground, then grabbed your ankles and tugged you down to the the edge of the bed. You yelped at the sudden movement, but you had to admit that it was hot. He grabbed your hips to pull you even closer. He let out a soft huff as your cunt was pulled right in front of his face. He looked up at you. "Is this-"

"Yes. Yes, it's okay. Please, Lars', please," you pleaded. Lars listened and immediately pressed his tongue to your slick folds. His mustache tickled at your clit as he did so. He licked a long stripe up followed by a relieved groan. He wasn't ever getting over the taste of you. He flicked his tongue against your clit and watched you writhe against him and moan out his name. You couldn't bear to look down at him as your hand flew to grip lightly at his hair. If you made eye contact you just might come, and you wanted to hold that off just a little longer.

Lars slid his fingers along the inside of your thigh, trailing them down until they were playing in your folds, complimenting his tongue lapping at your clit. His tongue replaced his fingers, but instead of teasing the outside, it delved deep inside you. The feeling elicited another lewd moan from your lips and a soft grumble from Lars. He was so skilled with his mouth. You were so glad he liked eating you out so much. He put his skills to great use. You moaned at the pleasure building from the feeling of his tongue against you and inside you. "I'm getting close, Lars. Keep going."

Lars smiled softly against your cunt. He moaned softly before focusing his tongue back on your sensitive clit. He slid his middle finger into your soaking pussy with ease. The moan the act ripped from you made a bead of precum pump out of Lars' cock. Hearing you moan and cry out turned him on so much. He pressed a second finger deep inside you. He curled them as he lapped at your clit, listening closely for all of your little sounds. He sped up when he heard to whispering his name. That only caused you to say his name even louder.

Lars moaned softly against your clit which sent a jolt through your entire body. You moaned loudly and pressed your hips into his mouth. He got the signal immediately; his fingers curled as his tongue laved against your clit. It was the perfect combination along with everything else to send you crashing over the edge. Your thighs clamped around Lars' head as your body trembled from the intensity of your release. Your hand in his hair tightened and your joined hands clasped together even tighter.

Lars didn't stop until you started to mewl and squirm. He loved tasting your pussy and would do so as long as you let him. He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, which was the exact opposite compared to how quickly he shoved them in his mouth. He needed every last bit of your release in his mouth. He dipped his head back down to clean you up with his tongue too.

"L-Lars.. Too much." You whined out, shifting your hips away from him.

Lars pulled away with a soft nod then climbed up to lay down next to you. He grabbed your jaw and kissed you lovingly. The taste of yourself on his lips made you moan softly again. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. "I want you inside of me, Lars. Please."

Lars groaned softly and dropped his head down against your shoulder. "Right now?" He was still so incredibly worked up and hard. He started kissing you again, his hands roaming all over your skin. Your hands were on him too, eagerly reciprocating the kisses and touches as you nodded in response to his question. He slid his hands down your sides and stopped to grip at your soft hips. He wasn't one to deny his woman of what she wanted. You were his after all, and it was just job to take good care of you in every way he knew how. He hesitantly pulled away from your lips so he could settle himself between your legs again.

"You're so beautiful.." Lars huffed as his eyes raked over your body. He couldn't keep his hands off of you for very long. He dipped his head down to kiss your stomach a few times.

"Lars," you whined. "Please." You wanted to tell him to fuck you, but Lars didn't like to call sex that. He vastly preferred the term love-making or just the word sex. If you did refer to it as 'fucking' he was almost instantly taken out of the mood. You weren't lost in those thoughts for very long. Lars groans as he gently stroked himself in preparation and that grabbed your attention fairly quickly. You looked down to watch him.

Lars lined himself up with your dripping cunt and pushed halfway in with a long whine. You let out a broken moan at the feeling of being partially filled, letting your head fall back against his pillow. Your brain was starting to sound like static. The only thing you could think was how badly you wanted Lars to fuck you right now. Lars' head fell forward and he heaved. He looked down to where he was halfway inside you, and the sight was enough to make him unable to resist the urge to push all the way in while he watched. His cock was bigger than anything you had ever seen and it felt absolutely amazing inside of you. The initial stretch burned slightly, but that didn't last long. Lars had taken his time to work you open with his fingers and tongue earlier.

"Y-You take me so well.." Lars mumbled. He laid down against you, soaking up the feeling of your walls around him. "So warm.." He felt around for your hand and interlocked your fingers. He needed to hold your hand in his while he was inside of you.

The stillness was fine at first, then the ache of arousal started to claw at you. You were worked up again and you needed relief. "Please, Lars.."

That's all it took for Lars to start rolling his hips against yours. He raised up so he could kiss you while his cock slowly slid in and out of you. You watched his eyebrows knit together as his pleasure grew. The sight made you throb. You were surprised he was going slow with how worked up he seemed. His self control was unmatched, and that's why tonight had been so exciting. He was sort of taking what he wanted, which was new.

"I n-needed you.. all night.." Lars thrusts sped up. He couldn't help himself. You wrapped your legs tighter around his hips, digging your ankles into his lower back and drawing him in. Lars moaned as he hit even deeper inside you. The shift angled his cock to brush that spot that made you melt. Your eyes rolled back and squeezed shut. Moans spilled out of you louder than they had the entire night. "Right there, right there.." You slurred.

Lars whined and moaned. One thing that hadn't changed was his loss of words when he got too worked up. You filled the space with soft praises for him, which only made him go even harder and faster. "Mmnn.. You feel so good, L-Lars.. You fit so perfect. So big. This pussy is all for you. All yours," you cooed. You cried out as he hit your g-spot again. Then his hand was tangled in between you two, rubbing slowly at your clit. His mouth was on yours and you quickly fell into a sloppy makeout interrupted by loud moans from you both. The combination of his fingers rubbing against your sensitive bud and his cock head nudging the spongey spot inside your walls pushed you towards your orgasm faster than ever.

You came around Lars' cock with a spew of his name, moans, and a jolt of your hips. The feeling of your walls milking his shaft sent him chasing after your orgasm with his own. Spurts of his hot seed coating the inside of you sent another wave of pleasure to wash over you. Lars dropped his head to your shoulder as his hips twitched and bucked, whining moans falling from his kiss-swollen lips. He filled you up completely with his spend then collapsed next to you while pulling you on top of him. His cock was still buried inside of you, and unless you asked he didn't plan on taking it out anytime soon.

Lars let out a heavy sigh and traced patterns along your bare back. Relaxation washed over you both as you basked in the afterglow of your shared orgasms. This was nice. You don't know how long you laid there in comfortable silence before Lars starting kissing the top of your head and talking. "Was that too much..? Do I need to pull out?"

"No. Don't." You sighed softly. "It was amazing, Lars." You smiled and pressed your face into his neck. "I like you inside of me."

Lars blushed softly in spite the position your bodies were in. "That all was really good. It felt good." He let his body melt into his mattress, his arms draping over you. He reached over and grabbed his blanket. He covered you both up and kissed your head again. "We need to shower soon."

"In a minute." You mumbled, barely holding onto the little conscious you had left. There was no place you'd rather be right now. Lars big strong arms wrapped around you, his cock inside of you, his chest pressed against yours, and your body completely relaxed. Lars started to rub your scalp, which sent you right to sleep against your will.

close ups yippe!

You're the first to stir this morning. Now that Ryland doesn't exactly have any stars to save or a schedule to abide by, he's much more relaxed. Teaches later during the day when he's fully awake and regulated. Sleeps a lot more.

Actually, you hesitate to call it sleeping. It's more like he hibernates.

Either way, you wake up every morning with him glued to you. Today, he's got one arm slung over your stomach, wrapped around you so tightly that you couldn't get out of bed if you tried.

He's half on you and half on the mattress, legs tangled with yours and face buried in your neck. Each slow, deep breath he exhales cascades over your skin, warm and soft and comfortable. Comfortable in a way that you both still struggle to embrace after everything that happened to you aboard Mary.

Maybe that's why you started to stir. When the comfort of being in your own personal heaven settled too deeply in your bones and your nervous system started humming. When those very nerves told you it was too good to be true.

You bring one hand up to Ryland's back so you can rake your nails up and down the broad expanse of it. So you don't have to be alone in this internal, nervous humming. So he can shut it up for you.

It takes a few gentle swipes before his body responds with a soft twitch. That sudden little jolt makes you giggle. He responds with a tightening of his arm around your waist. With a deeper nuzzling into the crook of your neck and some sort of little rumbled groan. With him unintentionally pulling you deeper into him, tucking you beneath him and pinning you down on the mattress underneath all of his weight.

You're grateful to feel his weight. So, so grateful. There was once a time where he hardly felt like anything; when he was skin and bones and you woke up every day thinking he'd be dead from starvation.

"Five more minutes," Ryland grunts against your neck. His voice is so deep. So thick and raspy with sleep. There's that excellent distraction for your brain, that soothing little swan song you needed.

Not so soothing to the heat growing between your legs, though.

"Let's go for a walk on the beach," you whisper, pressing a soft kiss on his temple and tapping his back between his shoulder blades. You want nothing more than to stay in bed with him here, but the cold water will do you good.

"We have all day for that," he sleepily murmurs. Pushed it out through a yawn before somehow pulling you even deeper into him. Probably because he wrapped his other arm around your waist. Definitely no chance of escape, now.

"Laziness doesn't flatter you, Ryland Grace," you tease. A gentle scolding. Completely unserious judging by the smile on your face that made it sound like a compliment instead of a fussing.

But it gets him to lift his head. He pushes himself up on one forearm after releasing it from your waist and pressing it into the mattress right next to your head. Now, he's hovering over you.

And he looks beautiful.

Sleep-heavy, lidded eyes that light up when they land on you. Messy bed-hair sticking out in all directions. He keeps complaining about how he needs to cut it, but he never does. Thick stubble that's a little overgrown and stretches down to his neck. A smirk on his face that you couldn't wipe off of it no matter how hard you scrubbed at it.

That heat bubbling up in your lower half is starting to boil. Him being so comfortable and cozy is like some sort of kryptonite for you.

"We saved two whole planets. I think we deserve to be lazy sometimes."

He punctuates that last, cooed sentence by leaning down and pressing a soft kiss on your lips. You smile into it. It's impossible to not smile around Ryland.

You hum against his lips while you wrap your arms over his shoulders. Anything to pull yourself closer to him is something you'll do. If you could climb in his skin, you would—and he'd definitely do the same for you.

"You're very persuasive," you mutter. The gentle opening of your mouth to speak those words gives him the upper hand; he slips his tongue into the kiss. That heat's boiling over, now. Making a mess with only a hint of the fire you're accustomed to enduring from him.

You can't handle it for long. It's only a few seconds before you pull back to breathe, to regain a semblance of your composure. He eats it up, of course. Starts to kiss down your jaw and neck, his stubble tickling your sensitive skin almost as much as his delicate kisses are.

"Ry," you breathe.

"Hmm?"

Your hips raise, pressing against his for a brief, glorious moment in time. Your legs seemingly have a mind of their own when they lift off the bed and wrap around his waist. He nips at the soft, sensitive spot just beneath your ear.

"Shit!" you squeak, high-pitched in a way that mirrors so many of his own squeals in Mary. Those thoughts would make you laugh if you weren't so turned on.

"Don't tease," you beg. A loud, pathetic plea that has him smiling against your skin.

"I'm not teasing," he counters. You'd almost forgotten about his other arm being around your waist. It makes itself known, though, when he slides his hand toward and rests it on your hip. His fingers drum against the soft give of your waist, then he chuckles at you.

"Just taking it nice and slow. You know, because we have all the time in the world."

You roll your eyes. Smart ass.

"You have time for this, but not for a walk on the beach?"

Your playful ribbing falls on his selective-hearing ears, because Ryland simply continues kissing down your neck. His hand slides up your hip and toward the hem of your oversized t-shirt, his fingers taking their sweet time caressing your skin and shooting shivers up and down your spine.

"I'll take you to the beach after this, baby," he murmurs against your collarbone. The beach isn't exactly on the forefront of your mind when he ends up pushing your shirt up your stomach and over your chest.

"I'll be too tired to walk," you whisper. It was all the power you could muster. He steals most of your ability to speak when he sucks your left nipple into his mouth. His tongue circles the sensitive, peaked bud a couple times before he sucks on it. Earns him a soft little whimper; one stuck in your chest that had no chance of staying there as soon as he pounced on you.

You're not sure what the hell has gotten into him, but you're grateful for it.

Somewhere in the mix of dealing with your pride and the ache between your legs, you regain the ability to use your hands. They find his head, your fingers beelining for his hair so you can tangle them in his thick, unruly locks. When they curl against his scalp, he hums against your chest. It isn't long before he's pulling off of your nipple with a soft pop. A lewd pop. Something that lit a fire beneath your face judging by the heat welling up in your cheeks.

"I'll carry you down there. Won't have to walk," he finally answers now that his mouth isn't full. A cheeky wink accompanies his bravado.

"You're gonna carry me down to the beach?"

"Mhm," he confirms. "Down all those steps. Gotta put these Hail Mary muscles to use, right?"

"What are you showing off for?" you ask through a giggle. You tap the tip of his nose with your index finger.

"You got the girl. Don't need to win her over."

He blushes. So soft and hardly there that you'd miss it if you blinked. A faint pink color slowly spreads over his cheeks, and his nose, and up to his ears, and down his throat. He attempts to cover it with a nonchalant little huff.

"Doesn't mean I can't spoil her," is what he shoots back at you. All fake confidence and very flustered, very real adoration.

Before you can laugh at him again, he shuts you up by giving you a quick kiss. He ends up moving down your chest and toward your stomach. The kisses he plants on you are still soft despite how hot and heavy things are between you. Still sweet. Gentle and reverent. And each one makes you melt beneath him. Makes your chest heave. Gives your lower half a mind of its own as your hips buck up to bump against his.

Ryland's quick moving hands snap you out of his little ritualistic worship routine. You were so focused on his featherlight kisses all over your body that you hadn't even felt them glide down your sides, then hips, then thighs. They leave goosebumps in their wake. Warm palms be damned; he knows exactly how to make you shiver.

His grip on the sensitive skin on your upper thighs is a little rougher than you're accustomed to from him, but…it's welcomed. Ryland is usually so delicate with you. It's nice to be manhandled when he's desperate for you.

He pins your legs down on your mattress after delicately pulling your panties off of them. Sometimes, you miss Earth. If you were doing this with him back home with an unlimited supply of underwear, you would have let him rip that flimsy little piece of cotton right off of you.

You don't get to ruminate on it for very long, though. Ryland's too busy distracting you when he descends. He dives into you the same way every time. A quick but gentle dip of his head. The soft press of his tongue against your needy, attention starved clit. A few easy, lazy circles drawn on it to get you extra whiny. To tease you and hear how pretty you sound when you're desperate for him. To shoot lighting up and down your spine and make you punch out a guttural moan.

"Please, Ry," you drawl, hips raising to his mouth and left hand tangling in his hair.

It only takes one tug on the thick, messy strands nestled between your fingers to get him to bury himself deeper in you. To wrap his lips around your clit and suck. To push his middle finger into your pussy while slinging the other arm over your stomach just to keep your already-trembling body still.

Just a finger is almost too much to handle since you're so sensitive, but you relish in how it fills you up after you've been so empty. A keen bursts from your chest. Your back arches. Your thighs shake. You become very well acquainted with the stars that pop up in your field of view—especially with each particularly slow, heavy drag and push of his finger in and out of your audibly soaked cunt.

Ryland smiles against you. It's a snarky, self-righteous little smile; you know he's proud of himself, and he should be. He knows your body almost better than you do. Spent years mapping out exactly what gets you to your climax as quickly and as easily as possible. Knows every spot that makes you scream, makes you squirm, makes you come so hard that you forget your own name and only remember his while you're falling apart and belting it out.

There's nothing he loves more than making you feel good.

That's why you're not surprised when he adds another finger and starts curling them up with every thrust of his hand. When his fingertips brush over that sensitive little spot deep inside of you once, then ram into it again and again and again now that he's found it. When his tongue laves over your clit in between him suckling on it like he's starved and you're the food he needs to survive.

How the fuck could you have expected to hold out at this rate?

It's not gentle when you get there. Your body thrashes against the bed as if you have no control over it. Your thighs tremble and shake, desperate to clamp around his head and hold him closer to you so your orgasm isn't ruined. As you yank on his hair and cry out his name, the sweet promise of complete privacy makes everything feel that much better. Makes you that much louder.

Throughout it all, Ryland works you through it. Slows his fingers down, but he doesn't stop moving them. A soft push in, a soft pull out, repeated every few seconds; just enough to keep you grounded without overstimulating you. His tongue's attack on your clit has ceased, his mouth now pressing gentle kisses on your inner thighs while that very tongue purrs sweet nothings into your skin.

"That was beautiful, baby," he coos while gently pulling his fingers out of you. It's the only one of his compliments your steadily returning senses allow you to hear. He kisses up to your hips and waist. Brands his proud little smirk into your skin with each one.

"Think you got one more in you?"

"Ry," you whimper while extending your exhausted, heavy arms in his direction. Those big blue eyes blow wider than you've seen them in a very long time. He speeds up a little more, climbs up to you faster. The concern laced on his features asks you what his lips can't; asks if you're okay, if he's gone too far.

"I'll leave you if you don't give me another one," you whisper, one arm wrapping over his shoulders and your other hand pressing against his chest. While you crane up to plant soft, featherlight kisses on his face, he groans. The playful glare he shoots you when your head hits your pillow is full of fire, but it doesn't burn. Heats you up and makes you wind your legs around his waist for the second time this morning.

It seems like he's got you on a burner set on high today.

When he presses his lips into a thin line and shakes his head, you laugh at him.

"Don't do that! I thought I hurt you!" he hisses. Not entirely serious, but definitely a taste of that fiery little temper that made you fall in love with him all those years ago.

"Sorry," you push out through uncontrollable giggles. He gifts you a tiny smile; a gentle upward quirk of his lips. He couldn't stay mad at you no matter how hard he tried.

"Just," he cuts himself off with a scoff and rolls his eyes. Raises one brow and dips his face a little closer to yours. Enough to push your foreheads together and allow you to nuzzle your nose against his.

"Don't do that again."

"Or what?" you challenge. You pat his chest softly, fingers brushing over his collarbones before your hand glides down his bare skin and toward his abdomen. You want to drag your nails through the patch of hair beneath his belly button and disappears into his underwear.

On the way down, you couldn't help but admire the softness of his body. The added weight. The extra padding covering his chest and abs and his much thicker arms. He was so lean on Mary that he bordered on ripped. Near starvation before you arrived on Erid had him showing almost every bone in his body.

Now, in your comfort and security on Erid, those harsh ab lines have become more faint. Harder to see. Drool-worthy material. Absolutely intoxicating. It's a miracle that you can get anything done when he's around. Especially when he's shirtless. Although, when he wears a shirt, it's almost worse—they've become a little too tight.

Ryland keeps himself hovering over you by leaning on one forearm. Tries to sneakily and quickly push his boxer briefs down with the other hand, but fumbles a little because he's too busy staring at you. He'll never be able to hide the fact that he loves when you eye him up. Or when you feel him up a little.

Something quite surprising that you've learned about him: A tiny amount of objectification goes a long way with Ryland Grace.

"Are you gonna stop fucking me if I do it again?"

Ryland laughs at you. Lets out a tiny, quick sigh of relief as soon as he releases himself from the confines of his underwear. When he glides the hard length of his cock through your slick, messy cunt, hips rolling back and forth a few times, he shudders. You gasp and throw your head back, twitching and whining each time the blunt tip of it brushes against your sensitive, puffy clit.

"You know that'll never happen," he bites. Can't even play along with your teasing because he's too interested in continuing. He positions himself at the entrance to your cunt and pushes in. Nice and slow, just like he said you'd be taking everything this morning.

The pleasure is agonizing, almost. A thick, deep stretch—one that aches more with each inch he gives you. One you can't get enough of. One that has you gripping his shoulders and digging your nails into his hot, soft skin.

Ryland's head falls into the crook of your neck. His shaky, shallow breathing splays out over where it meets your shoulder. Warms it when it washes over the thin, damp sheen of sweat coating your skin. His hips meet yours, and he stills. Keeps you pinned into the mattress with his weight. With the heft of his cock filling you up.

"Good lord," he groans. "So…so tight."

The shakiness of his voice is hard to miss; you've got him struggling already, and he hasn't even moved. You'd tease him if you could suck in a full breath and form the words.

"And—oh, Christ."

He cuts himself off with a hiss. Bucks his hips up despite being fully sheathed in you, shooting a searing little pain through your body that gives way to nothing but warm, whole-bodied pleasure. You writhe, and an unintelligible string of praise for him leaves your lips, and you drag your nails down his back.

"So warm. Feels so good, baby." He punctuates that one with a soft, breathy whine against your neck. Then he starts moving. Deep, slow thrusts. In and out, in and out. Enough to make your sweat-slicked skin glide together, and your thighs shake, and your toes curl.

How is he so good at this? It's like every time you sleep together, it's the best time you've ever slept together.

You toss your head back, unable to control the loud moan that bursts from your chest at his praise. Your walls flutter around him. You arch off of the mattress. You claw down his back again. You allow yourself to tighten your legs around his waist, and to strike up a fiery, rough kiss, and to lose yourself in how good it all feels. To lose yourself in him.

"I love you," he mumbles against your lips in the midst of a particularly deep, slightly rough thrust. Had to wait until your teeth and tongues had stopped clashing together to say it. The quickness in which he pushed that little loving declaration out tells you just how desperate he was to say it. Like it'd been hiding in his throat for an eternity.

You babble it back to him. At least, you think you do. You murmured something to him, and you cried out his name, and you stayed aware just long enough to hear him laugh at you before he started pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck and pawing at your clit with the hand he wasn't using to prop himself up above you.

You must have came. That's the only explanation you have for when you come back to Erid and find yourself being cradled against Ryland's chest while he runs his fingers through your messy hair and whispers the sweetest, softest compliments into your ear.

You shift a little. Tighten your own hold on his waist and groan at the ache deep within your muscles. It's like they're being stretched and set on fire all at once, but it's all worth it.

"There you are," Ryland whispers. He brands a smile into your temple and hugs you so tightly that your spine almost snaps in two. You laugh—albeit weakly—and nuzzle your face in his neck when he rolls on top of you.

"Ry," you wheeze, "you're crushing me."

He wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles deeper into you. Apparently, he's not too concerned about your inability to breathe. Here's your evidence about him wanting to climb into your skin.

"Just trying to get comfortable," he mutters into your neck. You huff. At this point, you're right back where you started this morning before you woke him up.

You lift one hand up to his back. Right between his shoulders. Your fingers brush over the soft, raised ridges of the scratches you left on his bare skin, and you smile. Your voice is hoarse and full of adoration when you find it again.

"Can you carry me down to the beach, now?"

hmmm I ended up NOT liking this so it's going under the cut... I saw a random spotlight tutorial and wanted to try it 🤷🏾‍♀️

it simply wasn’t something one usually does with strangers, but anyone will give themselves a pass on this one since the bookstore boy was indeed a sight for sore eyes. with a face bestowed upon by the heavens and an aura of a warm, fuzzy blanket on a cold day, it would be impossible not to be charmed by him.

he was a friendly fellow, helping bookworms get through their monthly new book read that they’ll store on their bookshelves after swearing they’ll read it, like the rest of their unread books at home. the blond assisted you some time ago when your gazes locked. you were discreetly on the lookout for a copy of jane austen's emma.

he rang up your book with a warm smile, and he wrote something on the back of your receipt: 

enjoy your book, nice taste btw! :)

- r

when he handed you your book, your fingers inadvertently touched, and he quickly apologized with a flustered grin. you believed it would be a fleeting memory, but following that encounter, something inside you urged you to begin visiting the bookstore weekly.

you take notes about the guy; his name was ryland grace. hearing it across the bookstore after one of his friends called him out again for his shitty sleeping patterns. the only thing they received from the blond was a sheepish grin and an excuse for needing to finish writing. 

you sneak glances through the shelves you look through; you can't help yourself.

when he wasn’t helping customers on slow days, he’d be reading a book to keep himself busy. you weren’t focused on the books in front of you or whatever he was reading.

you wonder if those same hands would treat you the same way. his long fingers would ghost over the pages of the book he's been reading for half a day, pinching the paper's edges with a wet finger to turn to the next page. 

good fucking heavens. he was hot without intending to be. was he even aware of how sexy he was being? 

you can’t help but imagine him near you, trying to flirt with you or at least notice you the way you’ve been noticing him.

would he be gentle with you if you asked? towering over you, would he cage you between the bookshelves and kiss your lips softly? would he cup your face with those hands? would he place heated kisses on your neck to the exposed skin your button-down allowed until he took it off of you eventually? would you allow him to touch you this way? 

would he open you up and flip you, scan his fingers over you with feather-like touches as you gasp? would he pinch your skin and mark you before making his way to your bottoms? would he push your panties to the side or would he take it for himself, selfishly keeping it? would he spit on your cunt directly, or would he make sure his fingers were wet with his spit before plunging them into you, softly cooing at your whimpers before picking up the pace?

would he be merciful, or would he be a tease? would he let you cum alone from his fingers or tongue? 

would he close the store for the meantime, guide you behind the secluded part of the bookstore, and bend you over a strong bookshelf or an unused desk in the employee room? would his arms hold you flush against him as he thrust? would he whisper sweet nothings into your ear or would he degrade you for being so naughty at the prospect of wanting to be fucked in a bookstore by him? would you care enough for him to fondle your chest and nipples as you grow nearer to your orgasm? or would you be able to even think about that as his thrusts go harder and play with your clit?

would he allow you to cum first? or would he want you both to cum at the same time? 

would he want to cum inside of you? would he let his seed drip out from your cunt to the carpeted floor of the bookstore? or as he pulls out his cock from you, would he plunge his fingers into you and finger you all over again, overstimulating you to another orgasm?

would he command you to look at him as he eats out both of your juices from your cunt?

"hey, you doing okay?"

you snap out of your daze when you see the bookstore boy, ryland, in front of you with a charming smile and his glasses lopsided once more.

god, you really need to make a move on him.