rawrrrrrrrrrr

the alarm's been going off for five minutes, but neither of you have moved. you're tangled together under the sheets, his chest pressed against your back, one arm draped heavy over your waist. his breath is warm against your shoulder, slow and even.

you can feel the fabric of his oversized shirt bunched up around your thighs, and the heat of his body through his boxers where he's pressed against you.

you shift slightly, and feel him stir behind you, already half-hard against your ass, even through the thin cotton.

"mm," he hums sleepily, his hand sliding up your stomach, dragging the shirt higher. "we gotta get up."

"then get up," you murmur, but you're pressing back against him.

his fingers trace lazy circles on your bare skin beneath the shirt, moving higher until he's cupping your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. you arch into his touch, and he makes a low sound in his throat.

"you're not helping," he says, but his hips roll forward, grinding against you through his boxers.

you turn in his arms, facing him now. his eyes are still heavy with sleep, barely open. you reach up, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he leans into your touch.

"we really should..." you start, but he's already kissing you, slow and deep. his hand slides down your side, over your hip, finding bare skin where the shirt has ridden up. he grips your thigh, pulling you closer until you're pressed flush against him.

you can feel how hard he is now, the outline of his cock straining against his boxers, trapped between your bodies. your leg hooks over his hip, and his hand slides higher, fingers skimming over your ass, discovering you're not wearing anything underneath.

"fuck," he breathes against your mouth, his hand squeezing. "nothing under my shirt?"

"didn't need it," you whisper.

his hand slides between your thighs from behind, fingers finding you already wet. he groans, circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you gasp. "you want this?"

"yeah," you whine, rolling your hips against his hand. "please."

he works you slowly, two fingers sliding inside while his thumb stays on your clit. the shirt is still bunched between you, fabric soft against your skin. he knows exactly how you like it - the rhythm, the pressure, the angle that makes your breath catch. you're already trembling, grinding against his hand, chasing the pleasure he's giving you.

"not yet," he murmurs when he feels you getting close. his fingers slow, pulling back, and you whimper in frustration.

"that's mean."

"i know." he kisses you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours. "but you love it."

you do. you hate how much you do.

he rolls you onto your back, settling between your thighs. his hands slide under the shirt, pushing it up and over your head. you lift your arms to help, and then you're bare beneath him, the cool air hitting your skin.

his cock slides against your folds through his boxers, hot and hard even through the fabric, and you both groan at the contact. he rocks his hips, dragging himself through your wetness, the cotton getting damp where he's pressed against you.

"please," you breathe, hands sliding up his back. "need you."

"patience," he murmurs, but he's already hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down. he has to shift to kick them off completely, and then he's bare too, his cock heavy and hard between your thighs.

he slides through your folds, skin on skin now, the head catching on your clit with each pass. you're both breathing harder, the lazy morning heat building into something more urgent.

"hands up," he says softly, and you lift them above your head without hesitation. his fingers wrap around your wrists, pinning them gently to the pillow. "keep them there."

"okay."

he reaches between you with his free hand, lining himself up. the first press of him inside makes you both moan and it takes a moment for your body to adjust. he goes slow, sinking in inch by inch, watching your face the whole time.

"fuck," you whimper when he's fully seated inside you. "you feel so good."

"yeah?" he stays still, letting you feel the stretch of him. "you okay?"

"more than okay. please move."

he does, but it's agonizingly slow. each thrust is deliberate and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. he's taking his time, drawing it out, and you're already squirming beneath him.

"faster," you plead, but he just shakes his head.

"not yet. wanna feel every second of this."

his hand tightens slightly on your wrists. not painful, just firm enough to remind you that he's in control. his other hand slides down your side, over your hip, gripping your thigh and pulling it higher around his waist. the new angle makes him hit deeper, and you cry out.

"there?" he asks, doing it again.

"yes, fuck, right there....oh fuck"

he keeps that angle, that same maddening pace, and you're falling apart beneath him. every thrust sends sparks through your body, building and building until you're desperate and aching.

"please," you gasp. "please let me cum."

"not yet." his voice is rough now, strained. you can tell he's holding back too, fighting his own need to chase release. "wanna make this last."

"i can't—"

"you can." he leans down, kissing you slow and deep while his hips keep that steady rhythm. "you're doing so good for me, baby. just a little longer."

you whimper against his mouth, your whole body trembling. you're so close it almost hurts, every nerve ending on fire. your hands flex above your head, wanting to touch him, but you keep them where he put them.

"good girl," he murmurs, and the praise makes you clench around him. he groans, his control slipping for just a moment—his hips stutter, thrusting harder, faster, before he catches himself and slows back down.

"you're killing me," you whimper.

"i know. i know, baby." his forehead drops to yours, breath coming faster now. "you feel so fucking good. so tight around me."

he shifts slightly, changing the angle again, and now every thrust drags against that spot inside you that makes you see stars. you're babbling now, incoherent pleas and curses, your body wound so tight you think you might break.

"please," you sob. "please, i need..."

"fuck...i know what you need." his hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. the added stimulation makes you cry out, your back arching off the bed. "gonna let you cum now. you've been so good for me."

"thank you," you gasp, and he huffs a breathless laugh.

"good girl...cum for me," he says, his fingers circling your clit while his hips finally, finally pick up speed. "let me feel it."

your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your whole body seizing, clenching around him as pleasure floods through you. you're dimly aware that you're crying out, probably too loud for a weekday morning, but you can't stop. he works you through it, his fingers and cock relentless, drawing out every last tremor.

"fuck, that's it," he groans, and his rhythm falters. "gonna—"

"yes," you gasp, still shaking. "cum inside me."

he does, burying himself deep with a low moan. you feel him pulse inside you, his whole body going taut before he collapses against you, breathing hard.

for a long moment, neither of you move. he's still inside you, his weight warm and solid on top of you. your hands are still above your head where he left them.

"you can move your hands now," he mumbles against your skin.

you bring them down, wrapping your arms around him, fingers sliding into his hair. he hums contentedly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

"we're definitely late for class now," you say.

the onsen is tucked away behind your private villa, surrounded by bamboo and stone. the water glows faintly in the dim light from paper lanterns strung overhead, steam rising in thick curls that blur the edges of your surroundings.

you step in first, the heat shocking against your skin. it takes a moment to adjust, your body sinking slowly into the water until it reaches your waist. the bottom is smooth stone, slightly uneven, and you have to find your footing carefully.

he follows, and you watch the way the water climbs his body, thighs, hips, the lean lines of his stomach. his hair is already curling at the ends from the humidity, that fluffy black mess sticking to his forehead and neck.

"god, that's hot," he mutters, but he's smiling, those golden brown eyes catching the lantern light.

you're both fully naked, have been since you left the room. there's something about being on your honeymoon, in a place where no one can see or hear you, that makes it feel natural. easy.

he wades toward you slowly, the water pushing against his movements. when he reaches you, his hands settle on your shoulders, thumbs brushing your collarbones.

"you look good like this," he says quietly, his gaze traveling down your body, lingering where the water laps just below your breasts.

"so do you."

he kisses you then, slow and unhurried. his mouth is warm, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your stomach flip. the steam wraps around you both, thick and damp, making it hard to tell where the heat of the water ends and the heat between you begins.

his hands slide down your arms, over your ribs, settling on your waist. he doesn't pull you closer. instead, he just holds you there, his thumbs tracing small circles against your skin underwater.

"turn around," he murmurs against your lips.

you do, the water swirling around you as you move. his chest presses against your back, his arms coming around your waist. you can feel his cock, half-hard, pressing against your lower back.

he kisses your shoulder, your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. one hand stays on your stomach, holding you against him. the other drifts lower, fingers brushing your hip, your thigh, but never quite touching where you want him to.

"patience, my love, we have all night" he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

his hand moves back up, skimming over your stomach, between your breasts, up to your throat. he doesn't squeeze, just rests his palm there, feeling your pulse. the weight of it makes you shiver despite the heat.

"stay still," he says softly.

his body anchors you from behind. his hand drifts back down, this time moving between your thighs. his fingers part you gently, exploring, but he doesn't push inside. just traces you, learning the shape of you, the way you respond to his touch.

your breath hitches, your hips shifting slightly, and his other hand tightens on your waist.

"still," he reminds you.

it's torture, the way he touches you: light, teasing, never quite enough. the water makes everything feel different, slicker, softer. you can't get leverage, can't push back against him or chase the pressure you need. you're completely at his mercy.

"babe, please," you whisper.

"not yet."

his fingers circle your clit, slow and deliberate, and you bite back a moan. he keeps at it, building the tension in your body until your thighs are trembling, your hands gripping his forearms where they wrap around you.

"you're shaking," he murmurs, his lips against your ear. "already?"

"you're...so annoying" you gasp as his fingers press harder, you moan. "....doing this on purpose."

"of course i am."

he keeps you there, suspended in the water and the heat and the unbearable pleasure of his touch. every time you get close, he pulls back, his fingers gentling until you're whimpering with frustration.

"turn around again," he says finally. "look at me."

you turn, unsteady, and his hands catch you immediately. he guides you backward until your back hits the smooth stone edge of the onsen. the rock is warm from the water, solid against your spine.

he crowds into your space, his hands on either side of you, caging you in. his hair is completely wet now, plastered to his forehead and neck, and his glasses are fogged from the steam. he takes them off, setting them carefully on the deck above, and when he looks at you again, his eyes are dark and intent.

"wrap your legs around me," he says.

you do, the water making it easy to lift yourself, to hook your ankles behind his back. the position brings you flush against him, his cock trapped between your bodies. you can feel how hard he is, how much he wants this despite the control he's been maintaining.

he kisses you again, deeper this time, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. the other moves between you, and you feel his fingers push inside you finally, two at once, curling and stretching.

you moan into his mouth, your hips rocking against his hand. the water sloshes around you, some of it splashing over the edge.

"that's it," he breathes. "let me feel you."

he works you with his fingers, his thumb finding your clit, and the combination makes your head fall back against the stone. he takes advantage, his mouth moving to your throat, your collarbone, the swell of your breast. when his lips close around your nipple, you cry out, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

"you're so responsive," he murmurs against your skin. "i love that about you."

"baby, please...i need..." you gasp, your body tightening around his fingers. "i need you inside me."

"soon."

but he doesn't make you wait much longer. his fingers slide out, and then he's positioning himself, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. the water makes everything slippery, and he has to adjust his grip on your hips, holding you steady.

"ready, love?" he asks, his forehead pressed to yours.

"yes, please, yes..."

he pushes in slowly, and the stretch is intense. the water doesn't provide the same friction as usual, but somehow that makes it more—the slide of him inside you smooth and deep and overwhelming. you both groan as he bottoms out, your body adjusting to accommodate him.

"fuck," he breathes, his hands tightening on your hips. "you feel incredible."

he doesn't move at first, just holds you there, pinned between his body and the stone. you can feel every inch of him, the fullness of it, the way your body clenches around him.

"move," you whisper. "please move."

he does, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in. the water resists the movement, making everything deliberate and controlled. he sets a rhythm, his hands guiding your hips to meet his thrusts, and the angle has him hitting deep, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

"there?" he asks, doing it again.

"yes, god, yes...oh mm"

his pace steady and relentless. one hand moves from your hip to brace against the stone, giving him more leverage. the other slides between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit again.

the dual sensation him inside you, his fingers on you, is too much. you're already close, the tension coiling tight in your belly, your thighs shaking where they're wrapped around him.

"not yet," he says, but his voice is strained now, rough with his own need. "wait for me."

"i can't..."

"shhh...you can." his fingers slow on your clit, just enough to pull you back from the edge. "just a little longer."

he adjusts the angle slightly, his hips snapping harder now, and you can tell he's close too. his breathing is ragged, his hair dripping water onto your face and shoulders. his eyes are locked on yours, intense and focused.

"please," you sob, beyond caring how desperate you sound. "please let me—"

"cum," he says roughly, his fingers pressing hard against your clit. "cum for me, baby."

you do, the orgasm slamming through you so hard you see stars. you clench around him, crying out, your whole body shaking. he fucks you through it, his rhythm faltering as your body pulls him over the edge with you.

he cums with a broken groan, burying himself deep, his hips jerking as he spills inside you. his forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath hot against your wet skin.

you stay like that for a long moment, both of you trembling, the water lapping gently around you. his cock is still inside you, softening slowly, and you can feel the mix of him and you starting to leak out.

eventually, he lifts his head, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "you okay?"

"more than okay," you whisper.

he smiles, that soft smile, and carefully pulls out. you unwrap your legs from around him, your feet finding the bottom of the onsen again. your legs are shaky, and he keeps his hands on your waist, steadying you.

"come here," he says, pulling you away from the edge and into deeper water. he sits on the submerged stone bench, pulling you down to sit sideways across his lap. you curl into him, your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you.

the water is still hot, the steam still rising around you. above, the stars are starting to come out, pinpricks of light in the darkening sky.

his hand strokes up and down your back, slow and soothing. you can feel his heartbeat under your palm, steady and strong.

"i love you," you whisper.

omg?? thank you thank you 💖

the couch was warm, the book was good, and absolutely nothing was wrong.

except for the very obvious sound of socked feet shuffling across the hardwood floor behind her.

you turned a page.

a cabinet door clicked softly, as if someone had bumped it and was pretending they hadn't. ta small, poorly stifled laugh.

you turned another page.

the shuffling grew closer. a floorboard creaked under what was clearly an exaggerated tiptoe.

you bit the inside of your cheek.

a sharp intake of breath preceded the full-body pounce by approximately 0.1 seconds. he landed on the cushion beside you with the grace of a golden retriever, arms wrapping around your waist, face buried dramatically into her shoulder.

"GOT you!"

"i heard you from the kitchen," you said flatly.

he gasped like a kicked puppy. "You did NOT."

"i did," you insisted, finally looking at him. his hair was sticking up in different directions, and his eyes were wide with mock offense. "and now you've interrupted the best chapter."

he blinked, sizing you up, before a slow, scheming grin spread across his face. you raised your eyebrow.

"what if I go back to the kitchen and make that tea you like? will you pretend to be surprised next time?"

you pretended to think about it, tapping the cover of your book. "only if there are cookies involved."

you two have come back home after a movie. you're halfway through explaining why the movie was objectively terrible when he catches your wrist, gentle, his thumb brushing the pulse point. he does this sometimes, just touches you like he's checking you're still there.

"can I kiss you?" he asks, and you know what he means because he always asks, always, even for things you've said yes to a hundred times.

"yes, god, yes," you say and he laughs before he kisses you.

he has to bend down. you have to tilt your head back. you've made jokes about it, how he could use you as an armrest, how you fit under his chin like you were designed for it. now he uses the height difference to lift you, hands under your thighs, and you wrap your legs around his waist out of habit, out of want.

"okay?" he says against your mouth, still checking, still soft.

"you're ridiculous," you tell him, but you're smiling, and he knows what that means. he walks you backward until your shoulder blades meet the wall, and even then he's careful, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your head so you don't knock it.

his kisses are messy, eager. he tells you things between them, how you taste, how your hair looks in this light, how he thought about this when you were just sitting in the cinema groaning(softly) about plot holes. you pull his shirt up and he lets you, raises his arms, breaks the kiss only long enough for the fabric to clear his face and then he's back.

"you're shaking," you say.

"nervous," he admits, like it's nothing to be ashamed of, like he always does. "want you so much."

it disarms you every time, this honesty. you kiss him harder, teeth catching his lip, and he makes a sound, surprised, pleased. his hands slide down to your hips, thumbs hooking in your waistband, and he pauses there, forehead pressed to yours, breathing.

"can I-"

"yes," you laugh, before he finishes. "yes, yes, come on."

--

he goes slow anyway. he always goes slow, watching your face, adjusting when you shift, when you make any sound that isn't clearly pleasure. you have to be loud with him, have to say there and harder and don't stop, because he will stop, he will check and check and check until you want to shake him, want to hold his face and say hurt me, it's allowed, I want you to.

when he finally pushes inside, both of you breathing hard, he goes still, eyes closed, like he's memorizing it. you wrap your arms around his neck, your legs tighter around his waist, and rock against him to get him moving.

"hey," you say, into his ear, fingers threading through his hair. "look at me."

he slips into the fitting room you were in before you could shut the door. he quickly locks it before sliding his hands around your waist, and burying his face in your neck.

"this one or the black?" you ask, holding up the dress, watching him in the mirror .

he doesn't answer. he shifts, mouth to your shoulder, fingers sliding under your shirt. you arch back against him and he makes a soft sound, grateful, keeps going.

he unbuttons your jeans one-handed, slow, the other hand spread against your ribs like holding you in place. you listen for footsteps.

"love...someone could-"

"i'll stop." into your neck. "say it."

you don't. you push your jeans and underwear down yourself, impatient, and he chuckles, delighted. his hand finds you wet, and his breath catches. "already?"

he works you open with two fingers, careful, watching your face in the the mirror. you bite your lip. he notices, leans closer.

"can you be quiet?"

you turn, catch his mouth, messy, teeth and tongue. he responds eager, almost clumsy, fingers still moving, circling, pressing. you rock against his hand.

footsteps. you freeze, his hand between your legs, his heart hammering against your back. the footsteps soon fade.

he checks your face, eyebrows raised. you nod, urgent. he curls his fingers, finds the spot, holds your gaze while he works you toward the edge.

when you cum, his other hand covers your mouth, gentle, muffling what you can't swallow. he groans soft into your hair, feeling you clench around him, like your pleasure is his.

after, he helps you dress, fingers trembling as he zips your jeans. you turn, kiss him slow, tasting his patience.

"you didn't-"

he sits in the armchair, legs spread slightly, patient. you stand in front of him, uncertain, though you've done this before.

"come here," he says, soft.

his hands on your waist turn you pulling you to sit on his lap, back flush agasint his chest. legs spread over his, feet barely reaching the floor.

he lifts your skirt, slow, folds it up, finding you already bare.

"good girl" he mutters in your ear. you whine, feeling yourself getting wetter.

the first spank lands sharp against your pussy, his palm flat and sudden. not hard, just enough to sting, to make you gasp and jerk. he rubs after, gentle, spreading the heat, and you push into his hand.

he spanks you again, finding a rhythm. your hips jerk with each impact. you feel yourself dripping onto his thighs beneath you, wet and obvious, and you want to hide and want more.

his fingers brush your hole between spanks, barely entering, just enough to make you whine. on purpose, you know. he wants you shaking, and you're getting there.

"please," you say.

"please what?"

his hand comes down harder. you cry out, legs kicking slightly, caught.

he pauses. his hand spreads warm across your thigh, checking. you push back against him, desperate, and he laughs, quiet.