♆𝕴 𝕹𝖊𝖊𝖉 𝕬 𝕸𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖑𝖊♆

A pillow laid beneath your cushions your stomach, but you still feel the bulge of his cock each time he presses himself deeper. Holding his position, his hands grip your hips, the pressure of his fingers easily leaving behind bruises as he remains buried to the hilt and begins grinding his hips.

Noah doesn’t hold back, not even for a second. Desperate whimpers and pitiful grunts spill past his lips and against your ear before he’s burying his face against the side of your neck.

“God, do you feel that?”

It’s rhetorical, but you do. You feel everything in this position. The way his thighs keep yours pressed together makes everything squeeze around him tighter as he moves, your walls clenching with each delicious drag of his cock.

You acknowledge him with a hum, barely audible, mostly for the sake of the microphone that’s been strategically placed to catch all of his sounds.

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me?” He rasps. “Oh, fuck—fuck, fuck.”

His breath catches, and he trembles against you, stilling himself as though trying to pull himself back from the edge of something he knows he won’t be able to come back from, but that’s why you’re here, why you offered to take the place of the usual toys he uses, to give him something more authentic.

Peering ahead of you, you catch the faint red light of the camera across the room, set up to provide a paid live feed. In the moment, it was easy to forget that there could be anyone watching, an idea that sends a swirl of heat through your stomach.

Clenching around him, he gasps, his voice breaking into a plea. “Oh, no… wait, please. You can’t do that to me…”

If there’s any way to make out your features on the livestream in the dim light of the room, you’re certain they’d catch your smirk in response—the devilish gleam of someone up to no good.

You do it again, because you can and you will.

You’ve heard these moans a hundred times, had them blaring in your ears on nights when you struggled to sleep or needed something to help take the edge off. You’ve came to them more times than you’d ever admit, but there’s something even more thrilling about being the cause of them.

The feeling crawls up your spine, tickling at the base of your skull and spreading through you as you rock your hips the best you can beneath him, attempting to draw another reaction from him.

“Oh, fuck… just like that… God, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna—” He breaks off into another moan.

This time, you can feel the effect it has on him, the way his body trembles against yours, his fingers gripping you tightly as he attempts to hold on to the last ounce of composure. Eventually, the final thread snaps, and he comes undone completely.

Even then, he doesn’t stop. He continues grinding his hips down against you, eyes rolled back, heavy, breathless sounds spilling from his lips, his voice barely audible.

“I can’t… I can’t stop…” He pants the words, chasing the same sensation he had been moments before, burying his face against the back of your neck as he whines.