໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

The vibration of your phone on the nightstand doesn’t wake you up — you were already awake.

It’s two in the morning, and the farm is silent, the kind of silence Pelican Town insists on building after midnight, when even the wind seems to have gone to sleep. You’ve been staring at the ceiling for forty minutes now, for no particular reason, in that irritating way the body sometimes decides it doesn’t want to rest even when it desperately needs to. That spring day had been brutal: hot and, as always, full of things to do. Crops to water. Stubborn weeds you had to pull out so your strawberries could grow. Two duck eggs had hatched, and now you had ridiculously cute ducklings to keep an eye on (definitely the least brutal part of the day).

The glow of the screen cuts through the darkness of the room like a knife. A message. Sender: Sebastian.

You take a full three seconds before opening it.

u awake?

Three seconds where you think don’t open it, and open it anyway.

Simple. No capital letters, no punctuation at the end. You know his late-night typing style by heart — it’s different from his daytime texting, messier. You’ve spent too much time deciphering his messages not to notice the difference.

The problem is that you reply before thinking.

yeah.

Send. You drop the phone onto your chest, close your eyes, and wait for your heart to stop doing that stupid thing it does whenever Sebastian’s name appears on your screen.

It doesn’t stop.

It never does, and that’s humiliating in a way you’ve learned to swallow down.

His reply comes in less than a minute.

can i come over?

There’s a version of you — the version that existed around eight months ago, before everything went to hell — that would’ve sent a clear yes without even blinking. She would’ve already been getting up, pushing her hair out of her face, checking her breath, leaving the door unlocked. That version of you was stupid in a very specific, sweet kind of way, the kind of stupid that still believes that just because someone looks at you a certain way, it means something lasting.

The version of you that exists now stays frozen with your thumb hovering over the screen long enough for it to dim on its own.

Then you type:

okay.

—✦—

It takes him twenty minutes to show up, which means he walked from his place, down Main Street with his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, across the bridge. You know that because you know how long the walk takes. You know that because you’ve made that same walk yourself, late at night, more times than is reasonable to admit.

When the knock finally comes, it’s quiet. He never knocks loudly — it’s always this restrained, almost lazy thing, as if the urgency of being here is a detail he refuses to let rise to the surface.

You open the door.

Sebastian is leaning against the frame with one shoulder, not because he needs the support, but because he’s the kind of man who takes up space like space itself is a concession the world makes for him. Black leather jacket over a faded gray hoodie, hair falling into the corner of his face in the way he never bothers fixing. There’s a new hoop in his ear you hadn’t noticed before — or maybe you just weren’t paying enough attention last time, which is also possible.

His eyes drag over you slowly, deliberately, no rush, no embarrassment. His pupils are bigger than they should be. The slightly delayed focus of someone processing the world half a second after it happens, and still looking at you like it’s a decision he made carefully.

The corner of his mouth shifts; a restrained smile, like someone calculating every move before making it.

“Hey.”

His voice around you is lower, stripped of some of the controlled coldness he carries during the day, away from you. You hate how much you like that.

“Come in,” you say, stepping away from the door.

“You smoked,” you say. Not a question.

The kitchen is dark; you don’t turn on the light. There’s enough coming through the window — the moon is almost full, and Pelican Town doesn’t have good enough streetlights to compete with it. Sebastian doesn’t sit down — he leans against the counter with both arms braced on the edge, ankles crossed, watching you the way he watches you when he thinks you aren’t paying attention.

But you always are.

“Always.” He says it the same way someone would say the sky is blue — a fact that exists independently of your opinion.

You nod. Keep looking at him. He keeps looking at you.

There’s a conversation both of you know you’re not having. Actually, there’s a conversation you’ve never really managed to have; you came close about three times, you remember every single one with irritating precision, and every time one of three things happened: he shut down, or you pulled away, or something mundane and stupid interrupted before any real words could come out. Now there are eight months of unspoken conversations stacked between you, and getting to the other side would require maneuvers neither of you is willing to make during the day, sober, with the lights on.

That’s why it’s two in the morning. And that’s why he smokes before coming here. It’s not the first time, and as much as you hate admitting it, you know it won’t be the last.

You came to that conclusion a while ago and kept it tucked away because putting it into words would make it real in a way that would be hard to ignore. And Sebastian is very good at making you keep things tucked away. It’s almost a talent.

“How’s the farm?” he asks, but he doesn’t sound like someone who actually wants to know about the farm. He sounds like someone testing the temperature of the room. Seeing how much you’ll let slide before saying something he’ll have to answer honestly.

“It’s good.”

“Plant anything new?”

“Strawberries. Last week.”

He nods slowly, eyes drifting over your shirt, your neck, back to your face, with that inventory-like quality he sometimes has — as if he’s checking to make sure you’re still what he remembers. Daytime Sebastian gives out attention sparingly, always seeming partially somewhere else, behind a glass wall he built and has no intention of tearing down. This Sebastian looks at you without the wall, and that’s dangerous in a way you learned to recognize far too late.

“Sebastian—” you start.

“No.” Immediate. Soft as a door shutting against velvet.

You close your mouth.

He pushes himself away from the counter slowly, with the slightly careful coordination of someone monitoring his own balance without letting it show on his face, and when he moves toward you, it isn’t hesitant — it never is, and that’s one of the things about him that ruined you from the start. Men who hesitate give you time to think. Sebastian doesn’t hesitate. Sebastian decides and acts and leaves you dealing with the consequences.

He stops at a distance that isn’t a friend-distance. You don’t step back.

“You should tell me to leave.” His tone is almost bored, almost — but there’s something underneath it that isn’t bored at all. You learned how to listen underneath.

“Probably,” you agree.

“So?” His eyes dip to your mouth and lift again lazily, like time is a resource that exists in abundance specifically for him.

You place your open hand against his chest before answering. Not to push him away, just to feel. His heart is racing beneath your palm — and for some reason you can’t be bothered to analyze right now, that’s exactly what makes you answer:

“Because I don’t want to.”

His hand comes up and wraps around your wrist — not removing your hand from his chest, just holding it there, his large fingers closing slowly around yours like he’s checking that you’re real.

Something changes in his face. Not much. Sebastian never lets too much show at once — it always comes in measured doses, carefully calibrated, like caring is a currency he spends cautiously.

But it’s enough for you to see.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he says quietly. His voice sounds different this time, rougher, less controlled.

“I know.”

“And still—” He doesn’t finish.

You smile. He looks at you for a second that lasts longer than a second should, then his thumb traces a slow arc along the inside of your wrist, over your pulse, and you feel it in your entire chest like he touched somewhere else entirely.

“You’re terrible at taking care of yourself,” he murmurs, and it isn’t cruel — it’s almost intimate, almost affectionate in the wrong way, in the Sebastian way, which is the only way he knows how to be.

“Look who’s talking,” you say.

And finally his mouth does what you’ve been waiting for since you opened the door — a smile that only appears when the walls come down, a small crack in the armor, and for one second he looks less like the Sebastian the town knows and more like the Sebastian that only exists in these dark spaces between two a.m. and sunrise.

Then he pulls you by the wrist, and whatever distance remained between you disappears.

His mouth finds yours without ceremony.

It isn’t the kind of kiss that asks permission. It’s the kind that arrives like the conclusion to a sentence that started a long time ago — no preamble, none of the polite hesitation first kisses usually have. But this isn’t the first time, that’s the problem. With him, it’s never the first time, even when months pass in between, even when you spend entire weeks convincing yourself you’re capable of being indifferent to his name on a screen.

The body has a memory of its own. Yours remembered immediately.

The hand that had been holding your wrist slides up your arm, over your shoulder, and settles at the side of your neck — thumb beneath your jaw, fingers behind your ear, holding you in a way that feels possessive and careful at the same time, like you’re something he doesn’t want to break but also has no intention of letting go of. You grab the front of his jacket with both hands, clutching the leather for no reason beyond needing something to hold onto.

He knows how to kiss. You tried to forget that and failed.

There’s a rhythm to him that neither rushes nor drags, something that makes you lose track of time in an almost irritating way — you lose any sense of how long it’s been, whether thirty seconds or three minutes, and when he finally pulls back an inch, you realize your breathing has gone shallow without noticing the transition.

“I missed you,” he says quietly, like it’s a secret only you’re allowed to know.

You don’t even notice when his leather jacket ends up on a chair neither of you looked at. The hoodie follows soon after, and you spend one useless second registering what you already know — that he’s broader than he looks beneath oversized clothes, that there’s a tattoo along the left side of his torso you memorized by accident on a night that never should’ve happened and happened anyway.

Your breath stumbles for a second. Before you can answer, his mouth is already on yours again, and this kiss is more desperate, hungry, proving that yes, he missed you, and you know that.

You always did.

His mouth finds your neck and you close your eyes.

“Sebastian.” His name leaves your mouth quieter than you intended.

“Mm?”

He backs you up slowly until the counter presses against your spine, unhurried, like he knows you’re not going anywhere — and the worst part is that he does know, that’s the ache you’ve learned to carry at a low frequency, the fact that he knows and still shows up like this, high, in the middle of the night, pupils blown wide, because he knows you’ll open the door.

You thread your fingers into his hair and he makes a sound against your skin that goes straight to some inconvenient place in the center of your chest.

It isn’t fair. The list of unfair things about Sebastian is long, and you’re adding more items to it in the middle of the night instead of sleeping like a reasonable person.

Because you always do.

“Hey.” He lifts his head and looks at you, and you realize something in your expression must’ve given something away because his own changes slightly — not much, not enough for anyone who doesn’t know him to read it, but you do know him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” A pause. “I’m okay.”

He watches you for another second. Daytime Sebastian would’ve accepted that and moved on; this Sebastian — the two a.m. version, the one without walls — frowns faintly and doesn’t look convinced.

“You can tell me,” he says.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“There is.” He says it with the calm certainty of someone who isn’t asking.

You glance away because looking at him right now, with the expression he’s wearing, is the kind of thing that makes you say truths you didn’t plan on saying.

“You only come around when you’re high,” you say. Your voice comes out flatter than you wanted — not angry, not accusing, just clinically observant, which somehow makes it worse.

He doesn’t answer immediately.

You keep staring off to the side. Moonlight cuts shadows across the sink, the kettle, the plant you’ve almost killed three times and stubbornly keep alive anyway.

“I know,” he says finally.

That’s the problem with Sebastian: he doesn’t lie. You’d expect a man who does what he does to lie, to make excuses, to build some softer version of the truth, but he doesn’t. He says the raw thing and leaves it there unwrapped, and somehow that’s harder to deal with than a lie would be.

“That’s not enough,” you say.

“I know.” A pause. “I know it isn’t.”

You finally look at him.

His face is serious. Not defensive, not shut off in the usual way — just serious, with something in his eyes you can’t quite name. He’s still close, his hand still at your neck, thumb tracing that absentminded arc over your pulse that he probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing.

“Then why do you come here?” you ask.

That’s the real question, the question all the others were trying to reach. You’ve asked it before, not with these exact words, not this clearly, but the substance of it has lingered beneath several conversations that sank before reaching the end.

This time he doesn’t look away.

“Because when I’m like this,” he starts, then stops. Starts again. “When I’m like this, it’s harder to pretend I don’t want to.” His eyes never leave yours. “It’s harder to pretend a lot of things.”

The silence that follows has a different texture than all the other silences tonight.

You should say something smart. You should say that isn’t fair, which is true. Or then stop pretending during the day, which is also true. Or you can’t keep showing up like this and think it fixes anything, which is the truest thing of all and the one you’re least capable of turning into sound when he’s standing this close, thumb at your throat, looking at you without the glass wall.

What you say instead is:

“How long do you have?”

Something lights up in him.

“All night,” he says.

Sebastian’s answer is a trigger.

There’s no more room for words after that. No more room for doubt, for conversations that never end, for questions lingering in the air like smoke. All night is a promise and a threat at the same time — because you know what it means. You know what he wants it to mean.

And this time, you’re not going to pull away.

His hand at your neck slides downward, fingers tracing your collarbone before bunching in the fabric of your shirt. He doesn’t pull hard, but it’s enough. Not an invitation, but a silent command you know all too well. You don’t resist.

When your bodies collide again, Sebastian is warmth and weight and the firm pressure of his hands, one at your waist now, the other still at your neck, like he needs to anchor you there, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

You’re not going to disappear.

Your mouth is back on his before you even realize you moved, and this time it’s not just a kiss — it’s a collision. Teeth, tongues, ragged breathing. Sebastian makes a low sound in his throat, somewhere between a groan and a growl, and then your back hits the counter harder this time, the impact knocking the breath out of you for a second. It doesn’t hurt. It wouldn’t matter if it did.

His hands are everywhere at once: your hip, your neck, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt to find warm skin. You arch involuntarily when his fingers brush the side of your breast, and the sound he makes in response is obscene, a rough, satisfied laugh vibrating against your lips.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Not a question.

You don’t answer with words. Instead your hands find his waist, fingers digging into bare skin as you pull him closer, like it’s possible to erase the last millimeter of space between you. Sebastian groans, mouth trailing down your jaw, your throat, teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin below your ear.

“Sebastian—”

“Shh.” His hand rises, fingers wrapping gently around your throat, not squeezing, just a reminder that he’s in control, that you let him be. “Don’t talk right now.”

You tilt your head to the side, giving him better access, and the sound he makes — a guttural, nearly desperate growl — is the most honestly Sebastian thing you’ve ever heard. There are no more walls. You moan when his teeth nip at your skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to leave a mark.

“You’re gonna drive me insane,” he murmurs against your throat, voice so low you almost don’t hear it. “It happens every time. Every. Fucking. Time.”

You laugh, breathless, because he’s the one showing up at your house in the middle of the night, he’s the one disappearing without a word and then coming back like—

His hand tightens slightly, like he knows exactly where your thoughts were heading. “Stop thinking.”

And then his mouth is on yours again with a kind of need that feels like it’s been restrained for so long there’s no holding it back anymore. You taste nicotine mixed with weed, a taste you tried to forget and never could.

Your hands find his belt, fingers trembling slightly as you try to undo it. Sebastian pulls back just enough to give you room, eyes dark and glassy, breathing heavy.

“You sure?”

It’s not a real question. It’s a warning. One last chance to back away.

You don’t.

Instead you yank the belt loose in one sharp motion, the sound of leather sliding loud in the silence of the kitchen. Sebastian exhales, something between relief and lust, and then he’s back against you.

You help when his shaky hands start pulling your bra off, which ends up on the floor alongside the rest of the discarded clothes. The moan that slips from your mouth when he touches your breasts is almost embarrassing.

“Fuck,” Sebastian growls, voice rough, eyes fixed on your chest as he rolls your hardened nipples between his fingers, pinching gently. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You don’t answer. You can’t, because words disappear the second his lips close around one nipple, tongue hot and wet as it circles before sucking it into his mouth, and you arch against him, nails digging into his shoulders, the back of your head knocking lightly against the wall.

“Sebastian— please—”

He laughs, low and satisfied, before switching to the other side, giving it the same attention. “Please what?” His voice is muffled against your skin while he sucks harder this time. “Answer me.”

You should feel embarrassed. Exposed. Vulnerable.

You don’t.

“Touch me.”

His body shudders against yours. For a second he goes still, like he needs to process what you just said, then his eyes lift to yours, dark and intense, and something in them makes your stomach twist.

“How do you want it?”

It’s not an innocent question. He knows how you want it.

“However you want.”

The smile that spreads across his mouth is slow, predatory.

“Dangerous, farm girl.”

His hands slide downward, over your stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans. You hold your breath while he unbuttons them slowly, like he’s savoring every second, every inch of exposed skin.

By the time your jeans and underwear finally hit the floor, you’re trembling, not from the cold, and both of you know it. It’s the way he’s looking at you, like it’s the first time, like it’s the last time, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

Sebastian kneels.

Not in submission.

In worship.

You’ve always loved the way he kneels in front of you, like he’s worshipping every inch of your body and you’re the only woman in the world, because that’s exactly how he makes you feel every time he shows up. And when his mouth finally finds you, when his tongue drags a hot, wet line right on your clit, a shaky moan tears out of you. The touch of his tongue is precise, because he knows you like the back of his hand. He knows exactly how to touch you.

Fuck, does he know.

Sebastian makes a sound in response to your moans, somewhere between a growl and a murmur of approval, his hands gripping your thighs hard, fingers digging into your skin to keep you from moving.

Your legs shake when he buries himself deeper between them, tongue hot and insistent, tracing circles that make your stomach tighten, make your fingers twist into his hair and pull without gentleness. He doesn’t complain. If anything, the sound he makes vibrates against you, and that makes your eyes roll back in pure pleasure.

“Sebastian—” Your voice comes out like a sigh, a plea, a warning.

He lifts his head just enough to look at you, lips glistening, eyes dark and blown wide. “Tell me.” His voice is rough and hoarse. “Tell me what you want.”

“More.”

The smile he gives you is slow, almost cruel. “However I want, hm?”

You nod breathlessly, and he doesn’t wait any longer.

His tongue moves with an intensity that makes your back arch and your fingers tighten harder in his hair. Heat climbs through your body, and when his fingers join his mouth, sliding inside your pussy without warning, making you cry out.

It isn’t a pretty sound. It’s desperate and shaking, but to him there’s nothing in the world better than that.

Sebastian doesn’t stop.

He touches you with a skill that makes you forget your own name. You try to breathe, but all that comes out are broken moans, meaningless words, his name repeated like a prayer. His tongue moves just right while his fingers keep hitting that soft spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“You’re so good f'me,” he murmurs against your skin, voice muffled, words nearly lost in the wet sound of kisses. “So fucking good.”

You can’t answer. Can’t think. There’s only the feeling of his hands, his mouth, the way he seems determined to take you apart piece by piece.

And then—

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

It isn’t a request.

It’s an order.

And you obey.

The orgasm crashes over you like a wave, intense and inevitable, dragging you under before you can prepare for it. You cry out, legs shaking, fingers digging into his shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping you anchored to earth. Sebastian doesn’t pull away. He keeps going, drawing out every second, every tremor, until you’re panting, exhausted, broken open in a way that should scare you.

But it doesn’t.

Not with him. Not now.

“Good?” The question is unnecessary. He already knows the answer.

When he finally pulls back, it’s slow, like he’s savoring every second. You can barely keep him in focus, vision blurred, body still humming with the aftermath of what just happened.

He stands, lips still wet, eyes dark and satisfied.

You laugh breathlessly, almost incredulous. “You know it was.”

The smile he gives you is arrogant. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

You shake your head, still trying to catch your breath, still trying to exist after what he just did to you. But before you can answer, he’s pulling you back against him again, mouth crashing into yours in another intense kiss.

His cock, already exposed and fully hard, pulses against your stomach, making your whole body tremble with want. He pulls back for a moment, eyes dark, almost black, breathing heavy while he looks at you like he’s trying to decide where to start, like he has too many ideas and doesn’t know which one to act on first.

“You still okay?” The question comes out like a growl, voice rough, like forming the words costs him something.

You nod, breathless. “Yeah.”

You rise onto your toes and kiss him again, nibbling at his lower lip with a boldness that never used to belong to you before him. Sebastian makes a low sound in his throat, somewhere between a groan and a warning, and then he’s lifting you up like you weigh nothing. Just like that.

Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, arms around his neck, and he carries you to the kitchen table before setting you on top of it in one motion that makes you gasp. The surface is cold beneath your thighs, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressed between your legs.

“Sebastian—” you start, but you don’t even know what you were going to say. It doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t let you finish.

His mouth is on yours again, hungry and possessive, while his hands roam your body like he’s memorizing every curve, every sigh. You feel his fingers slipping between your thighs, sliding inside you again, making your eyes squeeze shut.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he murmurs against your lips, voice rough with approval. “All for me, hm?”

Your words disappear when his fingers move inside you again, fast and precise, while his other hand grips your hip to hold you in place. You arch, a loud moan escaping your throat, and Sebastian swallows the sound with another kiss like he doesn’t want anyone but him hearing it.

“You make the prettiest sounds for me,” he says, voice rough, lips brushing your ear. “Wanna hear them when I’m inside you.”

“Sebastian, please,” you whine.

“You get even hotter when you beg for me.” He lets out an almost wicked little laugh, running his tongue over his lips like he’s staring at the best feast of his life.

You don’t have time to think of an answer — again — because you feel him positioning himself between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against you, hot and hard. You hold your breath, fingers digging into his shoulders while he pushes inside you slowly — so slowly — like he’s savoring every inch, every sound that falls from your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours, eyes closed for a second like he’s fighting for control. “You’re so tight. Bet you haven’t fucked anyone else because you were waiting f'me.”

You have the distinct feeling your entire vocabulary has disappeared and you’ve gone stupid. There’s only the feeling of him inside you, filling you in a way that makes your body shake, makes your heart beat so hard you think you might pass out.

“Answer me,” he demands. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

When he’s finally all the way inside you, he stills, giving you a second to adjust, to breathe. But you don’t want to breathe. You want more.

“Sebastian—” you whisper desperately. “Please.”

He opens his eyes and looks at you with an intensity that makes your stomach twist. “Answer me, damnit.”

His hand smacks sharply against your thigh, making you moan.

“You,” you whimper, your cunt clenching around him. “My pussy’s only yours.”

He smiles, satisfied.

“Good girl", he purrs, but he still hasn't moved, just watching you. "Just like that."

“Move, please,” you beg, almost pathetically.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

And then he obeys.

The first thrust is slow, almost torturous, like he’s testing you, seeing how far he can go before you break. But you don’t break; you never do.

“Faster,” you murmur, nails digging into his skin.

Sebastian laughs, low and rough, before giving you exactly that.

Every thrust is faster, harder, the table creaking beneath you while he fucks you like it’s the last time, like there’s no tomorrow, like the entire world has disappeared and all that’s left is the two of you and this desperate need to lose yourselves inside each other.

You cry out. Every movement drags you closer to the edge, every kiss, every filthy murmur in your ear, every time he says your name like it’s a prayer.

“You’re mine,” he growls, fingers digging into your hip, voice so rough it barely sounds human. “Only mine. Every fucking inch.”

You should protest. Should tell him it isn’t true, that none of this is simple, that tomorrow it’ll all hurt again.

You say nothing.

Because right now, with his body inside yours, with his hands on you, with his voice in your ear, it is true.

When the orgasm hits you again, it’s stronger than before, more intense, like it’s dragging something out of you that can never be put back. You cry out, body shaking, legs tightening around him while he keeps moving, every thrust stretching the pleasure until it becomes almost unbearable.

"So good," he let out a shaky moan. "Shit— It feels so good to feel that pussy squeezing me while you cum."

It doesn’t take long before Sebastian finally breaks too, body tense, breathing ragged as he comes with a low, guttural groan, fingers digging into your skin like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. A shaky moan escapes you when you feel the hot spill of him filling you completely.

For a long moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, uneven and breathless, his body still pressed against yours, sweat sliding over both your skin.

Sebastian finally lifts his head, looking at you through dark, glassy eyes, hair stuck to his forehead. “Fuck,” he murmurs hoarsely. “You’re gonna kill me one day.”

You laugh breathlessly, almost disbelieving. “You started it.”

He smiles, slow and satisfied, before kissing you again, softer this time, like he’s savoring it. “I know.”

Then, with a sigh, he pulls back slightly, still inside you, one hand rising to cup your face like he’s thinking about what to say next.

“Can I stay?” he whispers.

Your heart stumbles in a deeply humiliating way. It takes you a few seconds before you finally nod slowly.

“Stay,” you whisper back.

Sebastian pulls out of you slowly before offering you a hand to help you down from the table.

You know this pattern. It’s happened enough times to feel almost instinctive by now.

You consider asking if he wants to talk. If he wants to figure out what exactly the two of you are.

But you don’t say anything.

There’s no need.

the phone is almost mocking you with how long it takes to ring, every beep longer than the one before until finally they stop and you hear that raspy voice on the other end of the line.

"missing me that much, huh?" sebastian picks up, already cocky, and you can hear the clear line of his smirk in those words, imagining him sitting at his desk with the phone pressed between his cheek and shoulder.

"must've got the wrong number, i was trying to reach my husband, not some random cocky bastard." you reply with a chuckle, closing your eyes and imagining the softness of his dark eyes, the swoop of his hair, the mermaid pendant around his neck that he fidgets with whenever he's trying to focus. "sorry for wasting your time, sir. you sound very sexy, but i must keep calling."

"i miss you too, by the way." he sighs into the receiver, and you can imagine his head shaking in mock disapproval.

"fine. i miss you. had to cut the work short because the sky opened up, i was soaked by the time i reached the front door." with one glance to the side, you see the clothes you simply peeled off yourself when you first entered, leaving them in a little heap by the bathroom door. you should probably put them in the wash, or at least hang them up to dry, but the bed is too comfortable even without sebastian lying next to you. your towel dampens underneath you, spread open as you shiver from hearing his snicker on the other end.

"thought i was the only one that could get you that wet… guess i have some competition there."

you roll your eyes, but your hand feels so good resting on the swell of your breast, you can't even pretend to be annoyed. a gentle squeeze, just like sebastian does to tease you, and your thumb and index finger roll your nipple, making your lips part with the tiniest, inaudible gasp of breath. imitating his touches to the best of your abilities, your palm cups the softness of your breast while you press the phone closer to your ear, as if that will make his voice more tangible, as if it will make it feel like he's the one touching you.

"don't be ridiculous." you scoff, masking that little gasp with exasperation.

"you love me ridiculous." he chuckles into the phone, unaware that the sound is making your eyes close with a flutter, his voice going into your veins like a drug while you tease your sensitive nipple like he would. "when are you coming back to me?"

typical… now you can hear the need in his voice. where he always used to seem happier on his own rather than around people, soon there came a point where he started lighting up whenever you walked by, and then that light became brighter, and after he moved into the farmhouse, that light woke up whenever he did, quirking up the corner of his lips into a blissful smile. but when you went away to the island? you'd think he'd never spent a day without you the way his kisses pressed desperately into you every time you came back.

"if the plants don't get swept away by this storm, i should be home tomorrow late at night. how have you been coping today?"

sebastian laughs, but you can hear he's tired. you can hear his sigh which usually comes with one large hand dragging across his face, rubbing his eyes. "it's alright. nothing's dead, it's just been so damn sunny today i had to reapply spf like a million times."

"a true hero, nobody has ever been as brave as my husband." you giggle, releasing your breast and letting your fingers take charge, trailing down your body to where you feel warmth pooling between your thighs. "and how is sebastian today?"

he sighs, a long, dragged out sound like a long zipper being undone, spilling the tiredness from his mouth. "just…" he trails off and you wonder if he misses you like you miss him, if the house is empty without your fluttering steps across the hardwood floors and the humming while you made dinner for the two of you, if he feels the emptiness like a large cavern that never seems to get warm enough no matter how much firewood is burning because the source of your warmth isn't a fire, but a person. "the days are dragging when you're away… and i can't sleep very well alone in the bed."

you snicker through the slight rustle over the phone. "and how much of that is because i'm not there when you wake up in the middle of the night horny as hell?"

sebastian sighs, clearly trying to make it seem like you're wrong, but he chuckles like you caught him in a lie. "don't act like you don't fall asleep like a baby afterwards, too… and i swear sometimes i can feel you rubbing against me before i even try anything. you're not innocent in this." his accusatory tone makes you gasp in faux offence, and you might even consider defending yourself… if your hand wasn't almost subconsciously dipping between your thighs as he spoke to you, fingers slowly sliding between your warm folds to trace barely-there circles on your clit.

"i can absolutely stop doing it, if that's what you want…" you can't take the grin out of your tone, though, not when it's so easy to feel the vibrating of his voice through the phone that's pressed between your shoulder and ear, like you're trying to feel him as close as you can though you're so far away.

"that's not what i said." he murmurs, sounding like he's struggling to get the words out. you spread your legs a little wider, making space for the width of your palm to fit between them as you slide your fingers up and down your slit, slowly, as you close your eyes. "i like it whe you do that," you hear a little huff of breath, like a small smile that escapes him into the receiver, "when you pretend you're asleep but i can feel you giggling. waiting for me to touch you… i can tell exactly where you want me to touch just by your breathing."

"so attentive." you chuckle. now, your fingers glide a little easier, you're getting wetter as you imagine his fingers instead, so deft in the way they play you, the perfect pace, the prefect pressure, drawing his initials over your sensitive little clit just to hear you whine a little before he can slide those long fingers inside you. "how did i ever get so lucky, huh?"

his chair creaks slightly, you can hear him shifting in his seat. no doubt, he's been spending more time at his desk, staring at that bright screen in the dim corner of the room now that you're away. no doubt, he forgets to take breaks and ends up looking like a question mark slumped over his keyboard, frantically typing and checking and typing and double checking and typing… no doubt. you can picture him how he'd look now, leaning back with his legs outstretched, overcompensating for the hours hunched over, one hand over his face to soothe his tired eyes. most evenings you kiss his eyelids, enduring his tickling when he grabs you and pulls you into his lap, but it's all worth it if he uses that time to rest from cursing at lines of code. you imagine him like that now, with his shirt riding up, uncovering one hip, a little bit of skin, enough to make you shiver and press your thumb a little firmer against your clit.

"lucky? nah…" he chuckles and shifts again, the chair creaking as he sighs, "i'm the one who got lucky here." you roll your eyes at that, already preparing to be clever back at him and open your mouth to say something, but you can hardly say anything without giving away how good it feels as you imagine his fingers instead of yours, slowly teasing your pussy, dipping inside ever so slightly giving you the taste of how it feels as his smooth voice comes out of the phone at your ear. "i'll show ya just how lucky i feel when you get back. been missing you a lot." he almost whispers, voice lowering as if he's afraid someone might overhear.

you push two fingers fully into your pussy, biting back a moan as your knees slightly close at the sensation. you need to keep him talking, need to listen to him speak about anything really, anything that could take your mind off the fact that it's just your hand and your needy cunt sucking in your fingers like it craves better ones, the ones that know how to press all your sweetest buttons until you're unravelling on them like a spool of yarn. but for now, you can imagine. his breath is a little stutter into the receiver, enough to make you forget about keeping quiet, enough to make you exhale as you drag your fingertips along the warm, spongy walls inside you.

"are you…" you blink a few times as your ears perk up at the sound of the huff that comes from the other end. you know that stutter all too well, the sound coupled with his eyes rolling back when you change the angle of your hips whenever you ride him in that same chair he works in all day, or when you tug on his hair as he flicks your clit with his teasing tongue. it's the same stutter, the same breath hitched in his throat, that pushed the exhale out of your mouth and a smile onto your face. "you're touching yourself, aren't you?"

"you're one to talk… i heard that little breath. you knuckle deep already? or are you just rubbing yourself?" he chuckles, but the undertone of his teasing words is a little breathless. no doubt, he's imagining what you look like sprawled out on the bed, surrounded by the dimmed light as the storm rages outside. "or maybe you're riding a pillow, got something instead of your pretty hands…"

"just my fingers." you confess, chuckling as if caught red-handed, which… well, you are. "don't feel the same as when you do it, though. you touch me better."

"same here, baby." he inhales sharply. "what i wouldn't give to feel you 'round my cock now… my hand tries but… yoba, you feel better than anything."

something about the way he praises you while breathing down into the receiver has you speeding up, you can almost imagine him there, breathing into your neck while his arms wrap around your body and he makes you feel how much he wants you. how much he misses you. how much he needs you. so you curl your fingers up, mimicking what he usually does when he's with you, and you can hear him breathe harder, fucking his fist in absence of your pretty cunt. you moan out as he chuckles, beyond amused by the fact that neither of you is handling this time very well without the other.

"what… what are you thinking about?" you ask, breathlessly, as you work your fingers in and out of you a little faster, lifting your hips up to get that perfect angle.

"you."

"be a little more fuckin' descriptive, damn." both of you chuckle, the sound blending into one cohesive melody.

"so bossy… 'm thinkin' about you riding me… fuck, you look so pretty when you ride me. in this chair, especially in this chair, it creaks when we go fast— i love it when you go faster."

"mmmm you always want me as a distraction, don't ya…" you tease, rolling over to your side, folding a leg over your arm that reaches down, rolling your hips towards it.

"the best damn distraction there ever was." he hums, gasping a little just as you hear the rustling on his end, the sound of his belt buckle hitting the hardwood floor as he flings his jeans off, surely getting more comfortable as he strokes his cock with the image of you in his mind. "love it when you just come up to me and make me take a break. make me unwind with your tits in my face." he groans, and you let out a sweet moan at the memory of his lips closed around your nipple when you roll those hips against his. "what are you thinkin' about?"

"right now?" you sound softer, voice weaving in and out of pretty sighs and moans as your digits fuck into your pussy, hooking upwards to hit the spot that has your toes curl.

"when you started… what made you start touching yourself?" he insists, the tone of his voice shifting slightly to show how much he needs to hear you say what you're imagining.

"well…" you start, rubbing your clit with the heel of your palm, weak, slow circles that do more to torture you than to get you off, "at first i was jus' missing your voice… then i thought of how you touch me," a little whine leaves your pillowy lips, and a little groan reaches you from the other end of the line, along with the sound of him stroking himself faster, "and… how clingy you get sometimes… needing to grab me and have me all to yourself… "

"what would you have me do if i was there now?" it sounds like his phone is even closer to his lips now, head lowered and chin nearly touching his chest as he furrows those brows, a look you know very well by now, whether or not you can see it.

"anything… anything i just miss you, want to touch you, want you to touch me." whining into the phone you curl your precise fingers, making your eyes roll back behind closed eyelids because the sound of sebastian's breathing in your ear makes it almost real, and your hand almost doesn't feel yours anymore. he lets out a deep groan, then a curse, then sharp breaths, all of them lodged into your brain as you angle your palm just right, brushing over your clit as you tighten around those two fingers that have you burying your face into the mattress. he's babbling over the phone, out of breath, words disappearing somewhere between his lips and the phone's microphone, but you feel the echo of them in your veins, in your skin that shivers as he moans out your name, a plea to have you once again wrapped around his weeping cock.

for a while there, all that's heard are your breaths quickening almost in tandem as sebastian curses again. you can hardly bite your lip again, for it will go bloody, indented with the marks of your teeth begging to be pressed into the tender skin on sebastian's neck instead. it's doing wonders for you, the way he struggles with you, making you really feel just how much he needs you there.

"i'm close—" you whine out, leaving the phone pressed between your face and the bed while you reach for your pert nipple, pinching it between your fingers in the way that has that tightness in your abdomen coil even tighter.

"i know." he pants into the phone, always in tune with every little noise that comes out of your mouth, especially when it means you're about to finish. "fuck, that should be my fingers in ya right now…"

and just like that, you're pressing right where you need it, closing your thighs so tightly around your hand as your warm walls tighten around your fingers, trying so desperately to keep them in where they're making you feel so good. your throat is dry, moans and whimpers scratching as they rip from you. finally, you can slow down, pumping those fingers in and out of you slowly to let yourself ride out the sensation. on the other end, though, sebastian is babbling, listening to your orgasm happen without him more like torture than anything else, but a torture that sends him over the edge.

"that's it… whine for me, baby, get yourself th— ah f-fuck," he follows after you, breaths getting lost in between the curses as you picture him, bucking his hips up into his hand, spilling that pearlescent cum over his fingers, dripping down on his abdomen, no doubt sticking to his happy trail… "fuck… ah… miss you…" his voice softens, like he's catching his breath after a run, "miss you so much, come back to me…"

eyes squeezed shut, you pull your hand back, wiping it on the towel underneath your naked body. "of course." you promise in a whispered voice. "i'll come back tomorrow. gonna get up early and sort out the plants, stick in all the sprinklers, get all the shit in order as fast as i can, i'll be back soon."

"good… thank you," he starts rustling, it sounds like a couple of tissues he's pulling from a box on his desk, "i need to feel you again, i'm going insane here."

you can't help but chuckle into the phone, curling up on the bed before you could even be bothered to put some clothes on. it would feel a lot better with his arms wrapped around you, of course, with his chest pressing against your back, with his legs entangled with yours. but out here on the island the only companion is the heat that seems to permeate even the walls to the cabin, even through the rain, it soaks into your skin and won't leave you alone. you crave the cold of pelican town in the fall, the fog on the windows that sebastian uses to draw you little smiley faces and play tic-tac-toe on the window above the kitchen sink. you crave the comfort that his presence brings, the warmth that is the person, and not the unbearable air.

"stay with me while i fall asleep?"

sebastian chuckles, but you can tell he was just waiting for this, being needed even after you've moaned out his name while your body shook. so he groans as he leaves the chair, and you listen as he cleans himself up and slides into bed, the rustling of that comfortable duvet is almost teasing you as you imagine how good it would be to lie down under it again.

"go on then," he murmurs, "get into bed."

you make a move. the towel is draped over a chair, and you throw on a loose t-shirt over yourself so you can roll under the sheets. it's all quickly done, the urge to already be in the comfy bed and hearing sebastian's soft breaths while you drift off is too strong to procrastinate. in barely a minute, you're flicking the lights off, settling the cabin into darkness that would make you uneasy if your husband's voice wasn't coming from the pillow where you left the phone. crawling into bed tonight, in contrast with the previous few days, is less of a relief from the ache and tiredness, and more a well-deserved comforting rest. while the other side of the bed is still painfully empty, when you close your eyes it's sebastian that's lying next to you, one arm draped over your body, fingers slowly, lazily tracing shapes on your stomach as the two of you drift off to sleep, snoring softly as the night sky twinkles down at you.

⋆˙⟡ burekforsatoru || do not modify, repost, or feed to AI

The knock came at ten forty-seven pm, while you were lounging in bed, nose stuffed in the most recent smutty book you’d gotten your hands on. The sudden noise made you jump, eyes flicking to the clock on your bedside table. You huffed out a breath, letting the tension leave your body.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Sebastian to simply show up at your doorstep at random times throughout the day every so often. But his visits tended to be well into the night, which had led you to make several jokes about him being a gentleman caller. To which he’d always roll his eyes and then playfully offer his services. You hadn’t ever accepted, despite wanting to look him dead in the eye and ask him to take his fucking clothes off. He’d always pop up with a new tattoo or piercing, gradually showing you more and more of his skin.

You questioned many times if that was his way of hinting to you that he was interested but you didn’t ask. Maybe because he was a recluse and you didn’t want to push him away. So you accepted the oddly flirtatious relationship the two of you had and enjoyed the late night smokes, talks, and walks he had to offer you. Except tonight was different. Tonight you wanted to be honest and admit your feelings for him.

You dropped the book in front of you, letting it fall shut as you slipped off your bed. You made your way through the otherwise silent house, seeing headlights peak through the curtains attached to the window near your front door.

You grasped the metal door handle, pulling it open to see the usual suspect. Messy black hair falling into his eyes as a cigarette hung between his teeth. It was still smoking and already half way gone. You leaned against the door frame, looking up at him with a pearly smile. His snake bites caught the light above your door and flashed for a moment.

“Come to steal my snacks again?” It was playfully accusatory.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, pulling the cigarette from between his lips. Something about him felt different, you realized. He seemed to be in higher spirits than usual but maybe you decided not to look too far into it. Maybe he was just happy to see you.

“It’s not stealing if you watch me do it without complaining.” His flicked the ash, pursing his lips before speaking. “And no snack theft. Just an outing. An excursion out of town, if you will.”

“Fair enough.” You couldn’t help but sigh, head tipping to the side so it could rest on the doorframe as well. “A little jaunt into the woods? You wouldn’t happen to be planning my gruesome murder, would you?”

“Unfortunately for you, I like your snark too much.” He waved his hand at you, “Now go on. We’re taking my ride this time.”

You watched him put out the finished cigarette on the bottom of his boot; flicking it into the flower pot you’d put on your porch just for him. You’d done it happily, even if you’d teased him for it. The funniest part to him had been the fact that he found a joint in there once and he teased you for it right back. That had been the beginning of going to a quiet spot out of town and getting absolutely blitzed while talking about the most random shit. You hoped tonight would be like that too. Simple, easy, and nothing but cracking jokes.

You smiled to yourself, fighting the heat rising up your throat. You leaned away from the doorframe and nodded. “Lemme get my shoes.”

He watched you step back inside, slipping on a pair of vans before grabbing a light coat from the hangers in the entryway. You slipped it on, making sure to check the pocket for your stash. You were relieved to realize it was still there and you closed the door behind you. But you stopped in your tracks when you noticed the brand new car in your driveway.

You quickly whipped your head around to look at Sebastian, who was a few paces behind you with the most shit eating grin on his face. You narrowed your eyes at him, jabbing your thumb in the direction of the car, “Uh, since when?”

Sebastian couldn’t help himself, he cracked a laugh, covering his mouth as he chuckled. “Your face is killing me,” he said between breaths.

With an eye roll, you flicked him in the arm and turned back towards the car. It was black, of course. To you that made sense. But it was also sleek and and sexy. You’d gotten so used to the raggedy truck he borrowed from his mom all the time that the vibe shift was insane. You didn’t hate it though because honestly it fit him perfectly.

You walked towards the passenger side, pulling the door open and plopping yourself down in the seat. The seats were smooth black leather and, not to your surprise, Sebastian had already added LEDs to the interior. It almost made you giggle; he was so predictable.

As you inspected the interior, he quietly slipped into the driver’s seat. He pulled out of your driveway, letting you go about your business in peace and quiet. It was entertaining, really, anything you did was entertaining. Even if you were immersed in one of your books or trying to beat his high score on a video game. He could watch you watching paint dry and he’d still find it entertaining. Maybe he was too far gone but he didn’t care.

It was a quiet night on the road; just the breeze, bugs, and Sebastian’s newest playlist playing from the stereo. It briefly crossed your mind, again, that the songs on the playlists felt targeted. But you chose to ignore it for your own sanity. All the possible signs that he felt the same for you all boiled down to one thing: it couldn’t possibly be a good enough sign. It was something you did too often but couldn’t stop.

Sebastian looked at you from the corner of his eye, tongue peaking out to wet his bottom lip. You were yapping about the book you’d been reading the past few days; including all the tiny smutty details that had you visibly flustered in his passenger’s seat. He was used to this, the stream of consciousness that you became when utterly relaxed around him. He never teased you about it because if you ever stopped, he might actually pass away. Maybe that was dramatic.

He drove to one of the usual spots the two of you tended to occupy on these excursions. This time it was the cliff overlooking Zuzu City. Which happened to be one of your favorite spots and Sebastian knew that. Your yapping died off as you realized where he’d taken you, a soft smile gracing your face. He watched you and the second you smiled, his heart stuttered in his chest.

Sebastian parked the car, climbing out of the car and making his way over to the large boulder near the cliff edge. He hopped atop it, legs dangling off the side as he lit himself another cigarette. You followed behind him, crossing your legs once you were on the boulder.

It was pleasantly warm out, with a delicate breeze passing through the surrounding trees and it made you feel incredibly glad that he’d showed up at your door that night. You could tell him now but you simply pushed down the urge and watched him take a drag of his cigarette.

When he met your eyes, his heart stuttered again. There was something there, something he couldn’t quite place. Until it hit him like a train. You were staring at him the way he stared at you. God had it always been so obvious? Was he an idiot? Was he blind? He concluded that he must be.

“U-um.” He cleared his throat, ashing his cigarette as he turned his face towards you.

The metal peaked out, clear as day this time, as he wet his lips. He saw the way your pupils widened in recognition, how your eyes lingered on his lips. How you slowly lifted your gaze to his eyes and your pupils remained blown wide. It wasn’t that you were surprised, he had plenty of piercings as it was. It was simply the placement of this one that had your brain spinning.

You swallowed, trying to compose yourself. You took a deep breath in through your nose and shook your head playfully. “A car and a new piercing? So many surprises. Is it a special day or something?”

Yes, he wanted to say. Yes it was. But the intended confession just wouldn’t come out. “Is it really that surprising?”

“Well, no. You show up with a new tattoo or piercing every single time you knock at my door.” You shrugged, the realization came out in words but it didn’t process in her mind. “Feels like it’s different this time. Like you’re tryna impress me.” You sounded like you were teasing but as you spoke, the cogs in your head began to turn.

Sebastian stared at her, heat rising up his neck till it reached his ears. God you were right. You were always right. “I am tryna impress you,” it came out without warning. But deep down he was glad he’d finally admitted it.

It’d been weeks, fuck, months even; of this weirdly flirtatious but painfully platonic vibe between the two of you. It had been driving him crazy but only because he could never get the courage to admit how he actually felt for you. All these tiny signs that maybe you liked him too but none of them felt solid enough. So he always let them slip by.

He watched you process what he said, mouth parting slightly in surprise. Your brain was running a thousand miles per minute, struggling to process his confession. Partly because you were convinced he was just joking like he usually did. But the other part was that his expression and tone were deadly fucking serious.

You were stumbling over what to say in response. This was the moment you were supposed to flirt back, confess your own feelings. He’d given you such a beautiful opening and if you didn’t take the chance, you’d effectively be an idiot.

“You don’t have to try and impress me, Seb.” You laughed softly, leaning in to graze your lips against his cheek.

He held back a feral groan, compressing it into a held breath that slowly deflated. Even you saying his nickname absolutely wrecked him. But your proximity and the smell of your perfume had his head spinning. You were intoxicating in the best way and he was convinced he’d never get enough of it.

Sebastian’s hand flew up to grip your waist, fingers tightening there as he leaned into the ghost of your lips. But you were leaning away from him again and his mind was screaming at him to chase it. So he turned his head just enough to catch your lips with his. Pulling you closer by your waist, his other hand caressed the back of your neck. He kissed you like a man starved, gasping against your mouth.

It was a different pace than you were used to with him but you didn’t care. You just melted into him, running your tongue against his lips between kisses. Sebastian huffed against your mouth, grip on you tightening ever so slightly. He chased your lips with his as his hands moved down your body, to your thighs.

He pulled you into his lap, fingers skimming up your inner thighs until they slipped underneath the skirt you were wearing. As your thighs settled on either side of his waist, it made your heart race and your breathing stutter. It suddenly felt incredibly hot, even with the night breeze. His skin was scorching against yours and it was driving you crazy.

You could feel his growing hard on below you, trapped behind his jeans and boxers. All of it made your skin prickle with anticipation as your own hands slid over his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck. He looked like a mess below you but you knew this wasn’t his last form. By the time you were done with him, he’d look thoroughly destroyed.

When his fingers grazed the waistband of your panties, they stopped moving and his body stilled against yours. He looked unsure, anxious even, but he had no reason to be. You reached below your skirt, hand hovering over his as you tugged on the waistband lightly yourself. Sebastian shivered, groaning to himself as he tugged them down your waist.

You stood above him and he drug them down your legs, his own pupils expanding as he saw how wet you were. He tucked your panties into his hoodie pocket as he pulled you back into his lap. His hand found your waist and throat again as he pulled you back into a hungry kiss, nipping at your bottom lip between breaths.

Your fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, yanking the pieces apart as smoothly as possible before tugging the zipper down on his jeans. Sebastian’s hands fell back, bracing himself against the rock as he watched your hands make quick work of his clothing.

His hand flew to your hands, stopping your movements. “Are you sure?”

Your eyes snapped to his, chest heaving. “Yes. Are you?”

He huffed. As if exasperated, rolled his eyes as his head momentarily dropped back. He looked at you again, “Honestly just fuck me already.”

His statement hit you so hard that it knocked the air out of your lungs. Combined with his usual pallor having turned a beautiful shade of red as he looked up at you, his own chest heaving under your hands; you felt like you were falling head first into him. It was simply too much in all the best ways.

As your lips met his, one hand reached into his boxers, carefully pulling out his cock to grasp it with your hand. To which Sebastian gasped, whining quietly as his eyes struggled to stay open. “F-fucking heelll,” he drawled at the feeling of your hand moving in a smooth rhythm along his length.

Sure he’d imagined this moment many times. He’d even had wet dreams about you. But the real thing was nowhere near the lackluster shit he tried to come up with in his head. His breaths came out in short huffs as he watched you work his length, your own face growing hot. It was a beautiful sight, seeing your eyes blown wide and glassy. He’d happily die right there is his deepest desire wasn’t within his reach.

Sebastian groaned when your hand slipped off his cock, his eyes chasing your hand as it pulled your skirt up in front. His brain stuttered as you exposed the naked skin your inner thighs. His eyes rose to the trail of wetness that was slipping down your skin, and finally your pussy, as you aligned his shaft with your entrance. One of his hands moved to your hip instinctively, his body pulsing as if you’d made him a live wire.

Your face contorted in pleasure, mouth dropping open ever so slightly to let loose a moan as you slowly sank down on his cock. Sebastian devoured the sight while adjusting to the feeling of your wet hot walls enveloping him. Whatever fuck ass ideas he’d had about the way your pussy would feel around his dick, he’d been dangerously wrong. Because he immediately knew he was pussy whipped.

“Seb.” Your head dropped forward, catching your lip between your teeth with a whine of his name. Your hands found purchase on his chest, fisting his shirt in your hands.

His hips jerked up into yours without thinking, both of your bodies shuddering from it. Keeping his hand on your hip, he moved his other hand to your throat, pulling you into a softer kiss than before; your hips beginning to move in a delicate rhythm. He could feel your pulse against his fingers and he chose to focus on that and your lips, instead of the undying urge to thrust into you.

Soon enough the two of you were leaned into each other, foreheads pressed together as your choppy breathing filled the space between you and him. Sebastian fought his urges, slipping his hand from your throat, down to the collar of your tank top. With his pointer finger, he pulled it down, hooking it on the underside of your breasts before leaning in to bite and nip at your hot skin.

He left a trail of marks from your tits to your neck, humming against your skin in approval as he did so. He felt your walls tighten around him almost imperceptibly, his hips moving to meet yours; except this time it was on purpose. His hands found your hips again, holding you steady as he began to fuck you from below. In return, you unclipped your bra, dropping it on the boulder beside him so he could see all of your chest.

It made your heart swell when he whined, head tipping back after his eyes landed on your bare tits. A quiet ‘fuck’, followed by his hips slamming into you from below. It left your spine tingling and a raw moan fell from your mouth, landing against the skin of Sebastian’s neck as you leaned forward. You were desperately trying to cling to him as your head spun from the sensations. You hadn’t even considered how it’d feel to hear him moan because of you, and better yet, for you. It was making you feel drunk, his noises and the drag of his cock through your walls.

You started moving your hips to meet his, hands caressing both sides of his jaw as your breaths began coming out in choppy moans. You nipped at his lips, tongue dragging across his lower lip as you ground your hips into his in tight circles. His pelvic bone caught your clit and you immediately whined into his mouth. “More, please.” You begged him.

“Anything, princess.” Sebastian doesn’t keep you waiting, choosing to lay back against the boulder.

More than willing to take the discomfort as long as you didn’t have to. He kept your hips elevated as he started fucking you mercilessly. He doesn’t even bother trying to muffle his own sounds, which spilled out of him, a cacophony of moans and groans that loosely sounded like your name but not quite. It only made your walls clamp down around him tighter and you couldn’t help the how it rippled every time he bottomed out inside you.

You could barely process the world around you anymore, aside from Sebastian and the places his body was connected to yours. He looked about the same, positively fucked out and mind empty except one thing, you. you wanted to hang on longer but you could feel your orgasm rapidly approaching due to the friction of his pelvis against your clit. Almost as if your bodies were made to be fitted together this way.

It sounded corny in your mind, especially with him fucking you senseless, but on the other hand… it only turned you on more. Your thumb pushed his chin up, his eyes meeting yours with parted lips and eyes that were only pupil. He knew without you even having to tell him but it didn’t stop him from smirking; the cocky fuck.

“Are you close, baby?”

You nodded frantically, your hips stuttering and shaking as you chased your high. Until it collapsed around you, body shaking against his as he held you close. His yelled out a string of curse words, hands gripping your waist so hard he might bruise you. His hips stilled against you. Balls deep inside you as the convulsions of your pussy made his snap, cumming inside you as his head spun from the sensations.

After a few moments and even though you were still recovering with scattered thoughts and shaky breaths, Sebastian thrusts slowly and deeply as his orgasm began to ebb away. He watched as his cum began to leak out of you, even with his cock stuffed inside.

“I will never get used to this.” He admitted, eyes glistening like the lines of cum slipping down your inner thighs. It made him hungry for more and he knew he wasn’t going soft anytime soon. "You're so fucking beautiful."

You laughed softly, slowly coming down from your high with him. But you kissed him, tongue brushing against his before you pulled away, to wrap your arms around him. You hugged him for a moment before leaning back.

"You wouldn't mind breaking in your car, would you?" You asked with a tiny smirk.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

꒰ ✶ ꒱ … ❛ AVALON'S NOTES ❜ : i’ve finally put this idea into writing after letting it bounce around my empty ass head. i hope you enjoyed! lemme know if you’d like more sebastian… especially if it’s with tats and piercings hehe. also, if you’d like to read or save this fic on AO3, here’s the link.

a roll of tissues must be cursing its existence by now, always being used to clean up sebastian's messes, only this time it's just the energy drink puddle on the desk and whatever he could get out from between the keys. praying to anything that might listen, he unplugs the keyboard and takes the key caps off, already mourning the time he will waste cleaning it up.

the voice of a random girl still faintly comes through the headset he left on the desk when he knocked over that stupid can, still moaning out some stupid phrases that he was trying to get off to before having to be somewhat put together when his project partner comes over. he catches himself mouthing some of the phrases the girl says since he's listened to that same audio too many times to count. it's embarrassing, or at least it would be if he could be bothered to think about how many chances to leave his dorm he turned down in favour of staying in and gaming, inevitably quitting after getting too distracted just to rub one out to end the night, and then another if he had it in him. all to the image of what she would look like on her knees between his legs, giving him under the desk support for his game. stupid.

and now she's gonna come over, but he's too distracted to know where to even begin cleaning his room. there's a half-full trash bag by the door, but he stopped using it after picking up the used tissues and empty cans. there was an attempt at sweeping, the broom still leaning against the wall with a little heap of dust next to it almost like it's mocking him for his lack of focus. the bed is unmade, the dirty clothes still on the floor. at least he managed to open the window earlier, replacing the stale air with the scent of freshness after the rain.

this will have to do, he thinks, looking at the state of his dorm room after about an hour of distracted wobbling across the place carrying dirty socks into a hamper that's barely ever been used — a very optimistic gift from his mother on her first visit.

at the last possible minute, he throws himself into the chair again, feigning casual laziness as he hears a quick knock on the door.

"yeah?" he calls out, barely remembering to close the tab with the damn porn audio and put on something he wouldn't mind being caught listening to.

the door opens and here it is, your smiling face pokes in almost apologetically.

"hi," you enter, closing the door too softly so he has to motion at you to push it harder until there's an audible click of the lock, "am i late?"

sebastian removes the headphones from his ears, leaving them on the empty spot where his keyboard would be once it's done drying in the corner. of course you're late, but he already expected it. as soon as you turned around in your seat to ask him where he wanted to do the project you've been assigned partners on, as soon as he saw your pout say his name so prettily, already batting your lashes at him as if buttering him up to do all the work for you, he knew you'd be late. that's why he suggested his dorm instead of the library, of course it's all under the guise of it being more convenient, not sitting on those hard wooden chairs surrounded by other chattering students. definitely not because he wanted you to sit on his bed. maybe even lie on it if you get dramatic enough, like he's hoping you will, groaning and rolling your eyes at the amount of work that he's going to end up doing for you, all for a little whined out please.

god, he's so pathetic, saving into his mind the image of your form standing next to his desk as you take off your jacket and throw it over the back of his chair, cataloguing how the light of his desk lamp illuminates your skin to make sure he can imagine it correctly when he pictures you sucking his cock under the desk next time. his sick little self-satisfied smile when he saw that you were paired with him on this assignment feels so far away now, but every second of his racing mind feels too little of a preparation when he sees you look around his room, finally there, in the flesh.

he hopes that he hid anything that could make you wrinkle your nose in disgust, especially the evidence of his sleepless, shameless nights from under the covers. you walk around the bed and sit down on the edge of the mattress, almost shy, but he knows you're pretending. he'll play stupid to the fact that you whispered to your friend that you're lucky to be partnered with him because he could do all the work. he'll just take all the chances that he has to look at you, to be close to you, to daydream right in your face about how those lips that smile at him would look moaning out his name.

he doesn't sit next to you yet. still pitching a tent in his jeans, praying it will go away soon, he's covering it with the hem of his hoodie as he turns in his chair, folding his hands in his lap covering up the bulge further, kinda hoping you'd look, kinda hoping you wouldn't.

"okay, so which part of the unit do you wanna do?" he asks, as casually as he can while tilting his head to the side and letting his hair fall into place.

"ugh," you already groan, throwing your head back as you lean onto your palms, "i'm not sure, everything seems so damn complicated for no reason. can you…" and there it is, your voice softens, you look at him through your lashes, and despite knowing your game, he can't help but fall for it, "explain it to me?"

his breath is heavy. you're so good at this, at playing his attraction to you like your favourite game. there's no way that you know for sure that you're his crush, sebastian thinks, that you know what kind of fantasies he has about you at all times. this must be just a wild attempt, or maybe it's worked before. on others… he tries not to frown at the bout of jealousy that starts constricting his lungs, instead, he focuses on your chest that you're slightly pushing out, like a hunter catching their prey with something tempting. he's been caught in your trap before you even knew you'd set it up, so all it takes is a tiny little helpless look on your face for him to fold like an origami frog.

"yeah," he finally manages to squeeze out, "yeah i'll… i can explain it, get the textbook out."

"i didn't bring it with me." of course you didn't. you didn't even bring anything other than a small purse, the size of which can't fit more than your keys and phone. but then again, why would you bring a textbook when you're banking on him doing the work anyway.

"it's okay." he sighs quietly, leaning over to pull it out of the drawer, hoping you don't see his bulge as he rolls over on the chair closer to the bed.

to him, you're temptation personified. with your pretty thighs pressed together as you sit on his bed, patting the space next to you almost like you know he's weak for you. sebastian swallows. hard. weighing his options, he lands on sitting on the bed, but makes some adjustments. he can't sit too close, he has to put the damn book between you at least. so he tries to adjust himself the best he can without you noticing just how much he's holding back from disappearing and jerking off before he can properly face you.

"so…" he starts, his long finger following the unit you're supposed to cover in this assignment.

he can tell you're already not listening. your hums in response to his words are timed all wrong, and he sneaks looks your way a little too often not to be risky, noticing you're not really looking at what he's pointing at. he's eating it all up, though he's no longer as careful with being informative about the unit. he slows down, watching your lashes sweep the tops of your cheeks. you're so damn pretty, and if he wasn't so damn pent up about wanting you in all kinds of ways, he would pull back and be respectful, if he were a bigger man he'd be nice and ask you out properly. that is, if he thought he had a chance at not embarrassing himself.

"you're not listening, are you?" he says, smiling as his hand splays over the page. that snaps you out of your daze and you look up at him with those glistening eyes of yours, the ones that he wants to see rolling back in your head.

"ah, sorry!" you scramble for words, leaning on your side until you lie down on his bed, a dangerous position for his vivid imagination. you're propped up on your elbow, a little too inviting, completely on purpose, just to make him bend to your whims. "your voice is so soothing," you purr, "and you understand this so well, i don't think i'll ever get it like you do."

flattery. that's how you'll get him to do the work for you while you just sit there and look pretty. the worst thing is, he'll do it. he knows he will. because you could say anything to him and he'll want to please you just for a nice smile and, hell, maybe even a kiss on the cheek? well, flattery is definitely getting you there, because where his erection was softening while he was focusing on the page between you, now it's growing again, pressing uncomfortably against his jeans.

"don't say that, you're a smart girl," he smiles a little at that, just from seeing a little bit of blush creep up your cheeks, "but if you want, i can start on your part and you can take over later."

"really?!" that gets a big smile on your face, your body shifts until you're closer to him, your breasts rubbing against the edge of the textbook, which definitely doesn't escape his notice. "that would be so good, i can already see us acing this thing."

sure, us. he almost scoffs, but your hand is suddenly on top of his, your thumb rubbing the top of his palm like you're not even realising what you're doing to him. all of his self-assured tone disappears out the window when you touch him, his head emptying just as fast as his cock fully erects, begging to get your attention the way his hand has it.

"y-yeah." sebastian stutters out, swallowing saliva that's so quickly gathering in his mouth. he's looking down at where you're lying all too comfortable on his bed, and it has to be on purpose, he thinks, because this is what you were after, isn't it? flustering him enough to make sure he'd say yes to anything you asked, even if it meant letting you off the hook with doing fuck all for this class. "yeah, we're gonna ace it." and damn it, it's working.

your sly little giggle almost breaks him, his voice was lower, almost as if he was afraid it would break if he spoke louder.

"i'd just hate it if i messed up our joint work," you interrupt his thoughts, your hand is wrapped around his wrist, cutting off any rational thinking that could've possibly occurred in his head while you're laying this flattery thick, "and you're so smart and you just get it."

sebastian's throat bobs as he swallows, closing his eyes to stop himself focusing on your big irises looking at him… even your tits are so close he feels like they're looking at him, too, there's no way you didn't angle yourself like that on purpose. flattery and that low cut of your t-shirt, the sultry way in which you're buttering him up with your words and the hand that's… oh it's gliding up his forearm now. you hum as you feel the muscles he's flexing in reaction to everything you're doing, your lips shiny as you roll them together. you don't even know how much that muscle aches when you squeeze almost imperceptibly, his body is screaming at him so loudly it's enough to drown out the giggle that leaves your pretty pouty lips.

"sorry!" you say with a smile. "your arms are just really nice… had to feel them." your stupid little smile. you wanted to feel his arm? while he's explaining this entire class to you, no less. if there was any interest in you about the academic side of this project, or if his delusions were that strong, even, they're disappearing right in front of his eyes as you slowly lower your hand down his forearm, not releasing him from your touch.

"it's okay." he manages, lowering his gaze so he's not so shamelessly staring at your tits. it doesn't seem to please you, his ignoring of your arched body on top of his bed. in fact, you start gliding your hand up again, squeezing a little tighter. almost like you're showing off, hey you fucking nerd, look at how i could jerk you off if you were good enough for me. he clears his throat.

"you sure?" you shift on his bed, releasing his arm followed by a sigh from his lips, he can't keep holding his breath in like that, he's gonna bust just from the way you touch his stupid forearm.

"yeah, don't worry. i don't mind." he's not moving his hand from the bed, afraid you'll see it tremble. "so… you can just, dunno, chill here while i make notes for your part, yeah?" he needs to find something to do, something that would move your soft body away from his eyes and his thoughts. something that won't make him think about how you'd feel if he fucked you into that bed.

you're humming in response, already making yourself comfortable on top of his covers and taking your phone out of that tiny purse you brought with you. sebastian needs to get a fucking grip, so he lies on his front, pressing his aching erection into it while trying not to inhale too deeply, instead focusing on the words that have already started to fly off the page in front of him. it's pointless. he's already made peace with doing the entire assignment by himself, with you as eye candy while he's trying not to imagine you spread out in front of him instead of the book. he can't think about it, because his dumbass will actually say something stupid if he doesn't get his shit together. okay. notes.

notes… he grabs the pen that's been tucked into the textbook and starts scribbling on the piece of paper from between the pages, little acronyms of what should go in the first part, the one you so elegantly avoided doing in favour of being on your phone—

sebastian sneaks a look your way only to get startled by your eyes no longer being on your screen, but on him, that same slight smile tugging your lips upwards as you shift a little closer, rolling over on your side giving him a sinister angle that he tries to very quickly take advantage of and just briefly take a look at your body before looking back at your face.

"hmm?" he loses all hope of getting anything worthwhile done while you're here distracting him, but he can't bring himself to tell you to leave. in fact, he still hasn't even told you he's going to take on the whole assignment and let you just breeze past with your name stamped on it alongside his.

"nothing, you're just cute when you're focusing like that." you murmur, devastating his attempts at keeping calm.

even pretty sure — which of course doesn't mean shit at all — that you're just manipulating him to get what you want, he's still losing the fight against his body. his cheeks are reddening, he can feel how hot they're getting, and he's regretting wearing that hoodie he always has on. he wants to get completely naked, get you out of your clothes as well, get you on his lap, have you ride him until you're both too tired to get distracted by each other and you can do that damn project fucked out and in peace. but you're a sneaky temptation in the way you're sliding ever closer to him while he's trying to be good.

"what a catch, hm, seb?" you purr, the rustling of his sheets under you emphasising the heaviness of your breath as you slide closer, almost completely touching him. "so smart that anyone would be lucky to be paired with you, but also very, very cute." your hand startles him a little, trailing up his back and he hopes to everything holy you can't tell how just much he's sweating from this, being so close to you that you're whispering and he can still hear you like a siren in his ear.

"you're just saying that." he stutters out, the only thing he's able to come up with is a stupid line that he's secretly terrified you'll confirm. sebastian is, at the same time, scared you'll back down from your flirting and hoping you'll have some mercy on him.

shaking your head undoes him, because how could he have prepared for your daring mouth leaning in and pressing against his ear, a loud echo of your kiss vibrating his entire nervous system.

"nope," you whisper, making his whole body thrum, "kinda wanna eat you up."

he groans, shivering as you kiss closer to his lips, trailing that pout that flatters him to his cheek. he wonders if he should just tell you that you don't need to do all this, that he'd do the project, that he would agree even if it just meant that he'd get to look at you while he did it, put something away for his spank bank, because though he's been dying to feel you this close all year, when he finally seems within reach of getting his ultimate wish, he's afraid of chickening out, or even worse, busting immediately and making a mess — and a fool — of himself.

but your hand is not leaving him, still touching his back and gliding between his shoulder blades like you're trying to kill him with those gentle fingers. sebastian shouldn't look away from the textbook in front of him, not when he might very well freak out at how close you're getting to his lips, but curiosity — or is it pure need — gets the better of him, and the next time your lips touch him, it's on his own parted, bitten, wanting lips.

once that line is crossed, your body seems to be tumbling down the uncharted territory of his bed. you're pushing his shoulder, rolling him over onto his back before he could even remember where he is, straddling his lap which triggers his hands like a reflex. they land on your hips, called to them as if it's ingrained in his bones that your body requires holding. after all, it's why you're on top of him, leaning down to kiss his lips again pretending like the first time wasn't an accident.

there are so many things that sebastian actually thought would happen today when you said you'd come over to work on the project. having you pressing your crotch against his painful erection wasn't even in the top ten thoughts, at least not when he really forced himself to be rational about it. and yet here you are, kissing him, grinding against his bulge while the only thing he knows he can do is just hold your hips tighter, almost digging into your flesh.

the project lies forgotten on the bed while your little moans vibrate sebastian's mouth, your greedy teeth tug on his bottom lip and he can't help but buck his hips up into you. it's the best move he could've made, because your hands slide under his hoodie and touch his stomach, almost making him cum right then and there. something in the squeeze of your palm against his sides has him think he must be dreaming, because there's no way you'd be this into him, right? no, you must be doing it to just manipulate him, a small part of his mind still functioning says so but soon gets overtaken by the one single brain cell in charge of moving his hands, bringing them around your body to pull you closer.

like in some fantasy he's had about you countless times, he's rocking you against his trapped cock, desperate to feel more but not stupid enough to risk you pulling away if he were to unzip his jeans. this will do for now, it has to, because you're rubbing his chest like you're trying not to scratch, though he's silently begging you to leave a mark, something to make him remember this is not a dream, something he will cherish and remember every time he sees you in class from this moment onward. your breaths taste like bubblegum, landing on the back of his tongue while you kiss him deeper, whimpering every time you press your hips against him harder, chasing some pleasure he knew existed, but not for him. now it's at his fingertips, warm like your skin just above the waist of your jeans, burning with desire barely contained in your body that he finally gets to touch.

sebastian won't take this for granted, he's already close to finishing just from a little rubbing against you, but it's your hands quickly shifting to hold his face that really make him lose it.

his eyes roll back as he groans into your mouth and tightens his hold on you, pressing you closer, like he's actually shoving his cock inside you beyond the layers of clothing between you. the orgasm makes him shake, and your hips roll a few more times, out of rhythm, purely running on the need to get off, and you're biting his lip again, whining as you slow down, shivering under his hands.

for a few moments all you do is breathe. for those same few moments all sebastian can do is try to do the same.

his brain is melting, the only thing keeping his body in one piece is the weight of your body on top of his, hips lazily rubbing against his spent cock as he can feel the warmth of his release trapped between his boxers and his skin. he's no stranger to cleaning up his cum from his body, not even from his boxers, but right now that's not a priority.

remembering he has limbs, he stirs, wrapping his arms around your body like ribbon coming to a pretty bow on your lower back, packing you up into a gift he will never forget. his lips still tingle from your bites while you drag your lips up his neck and press them against his mouth again, bringing him back to life after dropping him into oblivion.

you clear your throat, making him jump and release you from his grasp. sebastian is already mourning the loss of your warmth against him as you lift yourself up and off his lap, like nothing happened, save for the wet patch in his boxers and what he needs to believe is a matching one between your legs. he props himself up on his elbows and almost misses the smile on your lips when you see him like that, like you're not immune to the sight of a completely disorientated and blissed out nerd that usually just quietly sits behind you in class. he watches you grab your phone and fix your clothes in the mirror by the bed, too much in awe to say anything so he just keeps quiet, pocketing this mental image and grasping onto the remnants of you still on his hands.

"i…" you begin, turning to see him and deepening that smile that overshadows any cool you tried to show just now, "i'll see you in class tomorrow, right?"

sebastian blinks slowly, his brain starts catching up with reality. "tomorrow's sunday."

"i'll see you in here tomorrow, then?"

he barely manages to open his mouth and close it again when your hand grabs the door handle. settling for a nod, he watches you open the door and slip away, closing his dorm room behind you and dipping it into silence only broken by the sound of his heartbeat getting louder in his ears when he thinks about repeating this, but possibly making it even better. tomorrow.

⋆˙⟡ burekforsatoru || do not modify, repost, or feed to AI. likes and reblogs appreciated, nice comments make your skin clear.

Burning smoke turns his voice into a mere croak, lungs full of the self medication that he has no choice but to blow back against your face, given the small quarters he pulled you into moments before.

He doesn’t often fuck fans. He’s never really enjoyed the experience, upset at the thought of being nothing more than a notch in someone else’s bedpost—bragging rights, at most, to the person underneath him. It’s a bit shameful too, he thinks to himself, to take the easy way out. He could fuck around with anyone he pleases, but a fan? Simple, the tired choice, really. There’s no fun in it when the other party has already handed him the win from the get go.

Blinking slowly, he greets you with a forced smile. The very same one he pulls on stage, canines flashing in the dim light to demand attention. The bus is empty tonight spare his company, thank fuck. He’s needed a break for a while, and it seems as though you’ll suffice tonight.

His personal little means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less… Exactly what he needs tonight after the stress of the show, and then some.

Music still yet booms around the bus, another act well underway as his members remain hidden somewhere else… He hasn’t the slightest clue as to where, and the drug that makes its way throughout his system renders him beyond having the capacity to care.

“Want some?” He coughs into the air, trying to clear the crack in his voice as more smoke tumbles from between his lips, just for more burn to enter upon another inhale. Still, he offers the joint towards you, lit end burning brightly in the otherwise dark back room he’s tugged you into.

“No, um, it’s all right!” You giggle back, and he struggles not to roll his eyes at the girlish sound.

Nervous, of course. They always are, he assumes. As if he isn’t just some regular guy who somehow had a stroke of luck in the form of a stage and applause. He has half a mind to correct your starstruck position with the truth, but settles simply on a small sigh. An annoyance than can be misconstrued as exhaustion from the earlier performance, as opposed to his frustration over the fact that you’re no different.

Not that he expected much of you in the first place, but there’s always a twinge of hope. A silent beg for something new, something exciting, something beyond just a brief filling of the hole in his chest.

Well, you’re about to find out exactly who he is. Without the crowd, with no applause, reduced to the mere man he truly is.

He shrugs at your denial of drugs, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek to suppress the annoyance he feels over your giddy excitement. “Suit yourself.” He huffs, taking a final drag of smoke before placing the almost done joint in a nearby ashtray, letting the stink of weed circle around you to no doubt get you a little high regardless of your personal preference.

You’re perched between his wide open legs, sitting so sweetly on your knees, like you’re awaiting his every instruction. Holding your breath as he repositions to settle more comfortably, trying not to take up too much of his space in fear of… God, he has no fucking idea. And that irks him further—he wouldn’t have brought you back here if he didn’t want you here.

“What’re ya so scared of?” he forces some light laughter out, stretching his legs out around you even more to reveal the slow growing bulge hidden behind his tight jeans. “Won’t bite, promise.”

In an attempt to coax you closer, he juts his hips out a little more. Wagging the dog a bone, as it were, because more than anything, he hasn’t the energy to bite. Can’t do anything but entice you, not willing to work for what you so eagerly, thankfully, want to provide him.

A sweet distraction from the stress brought on from arguments with band mates. Not that you would know, or care, right?

Similarly, he couldn’t care less about you beyond what you can provide him tonight. No name necessary—all he cares about is the fact that you were practically begging for his attention after the show, bouncing those pretty tits for him to drool at, easily allowing him to sneak you off in the dark of the night to the shitty tour bus as if it were the most romantic act in the world. Bet you think you’re special, right? Out of everyone who attended the show tonight, he picked you, yeah? And though you’re a sight for sore eyes absolutely, you could just have easily been literally anyone else. The girl to your left, the man to your right. Wouldn’t have made a single difference to him; you were just the most immediate hole within reach.

“Right,” you laugh, anxious energy ruining his vibe a tad as you effectively force him into another show tonight, demanding he ease your nerves. “It’s just—Y’know, I… I can’t believe I’m here, y’know?”

Y’know, y’know, he mocks in his head. “Right,” he smiles placidly, helping you to submit to your wants and desires only because they align with his own in this exact moment. “So don’t ruin the opportunity, y’know?”

His mimicry is meant to be alluring, a game of back and forth his fans so often like to play—or so Sam has told him anyway, the resident fan-fucker that he is. But alas, Sebastian’s social battery is running severely low right now, no thanks in part to the prior argument with said fucker. Likewise, his patience only runs so thin, and he isn’t sure exactly how much time he has left to vent his frustrations through the use of your body, or how long the cloud in his head will last as a buffer between his stage presence and his actual personality.

Though it seems like Sam is right. The bait works, and you’re swiftly nodding back at him in a grotesque  seeking of approval. “Of course I wouldn’t! I won’t, I promise!”

He’s had a hard time believing you thus far, but he gives you another chance. Even unzips his jeans for you, letting his soft bulge spill out a little from the new opening.

“Come and show me then.”

The bed he’s on is small. Much too tiny for the sort of activities he needs right now, but it’ll suffice. He hasn’t the time to search for a better location, nor does he necessarily think you deserve much else besides the dingy back end of the bus. He’s there, what more could you want? That’s how fans work, right? The dehumanisation, limiting him to his presence and naught else.

He may as well do the same to you.

Upon his direction, you finally move into action. Maybe you’re able to pick up on the slight edge of frustration leaking into his words because he’s never been the best at hiding his emotions, no matter how much media training he’s been subjected to. But he’d like to think it’s because you’re on the same wavelength as him. Raring to complete this transaction, keen to brag about fucking the favourite member of your favourite band to your friends when you get back home, adamant that you’re telling them the truth when you retell exactly how you start crawling towards him, flashing a cheeky glimpse of cleavage that convinced him earlier to give in to his more selfish desires. The primal urge to fuck his feelings out, no matter the ethics involved in fraternising with fans. Sam does it all the time, so why shouldn’t he indulge when the opportunity presents itself?

As it so often does.

You’re no different from the rest, but he nonetheless appreciates the fact that you’re giving in now. Edging closer to his half sat position, half laying back against the wall the bed is bolted to. “Atta girl,” he encourages you, a more genuine smirk tugging at his lips now that you’re playing nice. Maybe the stink of weed is finally taking hold of you, prompting you closer, all the way until you straddle his thighs, leaving his hardening cock to pulse and throb for more pressure as you tease him with a slow sway of your hips. “See? S’not so bad, right?” his hands grip loosely at your waist, an attempt to keep you pinned in place, but he harbours little strength to offer you anything more obsessive.

“Sorry, I’m just a little nervous…”

“I know…” he coos naturally, clouded by the drug as he focuses on helping you come out of your shell. Putting in the minimum amount of work required to open you up for him, so that he can selfishly get what he wants before having to throw you out for the night. “I’m no different than anyone else.” Just like you, he keeps to himself.

“That’s not true…” You lean closer to him, a strong smell of perfume filling the air around him to rival the smoke, and he can only imagine that you picked the scent out specifically for a pipe dream situation like this. “You’re special to me.” Your nails rake playfully down his clothed chest, and he has to fight back a yawn at the tired excuse in the hopes of keeping you perched on his lap.

What’s worse is that he fears that if he opens his lips to speak, he’ll only end up telling you off for the obvious flattering lie, so he instead hums noncommittally as he tries to focus solely on the feeling of your weight on his thighs… How nice and warm you are in his hold, a cute little thing with the hots for him simply due to his influence.

Is it so wrong to use you if you’re practically begging for it?

The power imbalance ordinarily makes him feel gross, icky with guilt at even the thought of exerting it against anyone. Which is why he smoked the weed, just a little help to lower his standards, forget his morals just for one night. Just another night for him, but maybe the best one for you. He’s yet to see how memorable you’ll make it for him, though he hasn’t got much faith for now.

“Don’t have much time.” He gulps, emphasising his urgency with a barely there pat on your ass.

“Right, yeah. Course.”

“Condoms are under the pillow—”

Before he can politely ask you to grab one, you’re already reaching over for his benefit. And if anything, he’s just happy to have picked a submissive one tonight. The thought alone of having to deal with foreplay, of pretending that this is something more than it already is, gives him a headache. You’re probably wet enough already, right? Soaked right through the second he brought you into the bus, knowing full well what his intentions were when he showed you to the furthest bed. He doesn’t even have to try in order to prepare you—existence is all it takes tonight, right?

In the meantime, he prepares himself by pulling his erection out from the fly of his boxers. Letting it cool in the air as your soft gasp at the sight of it has more hot precum rolling down the length of it. Just human natures, pure instinct, and nothing about you specifically. He tends to it idly, gently tugging on it once or twice as you busy yourself with ripping the packet open—eagerly, may he add. Watching as it slips from your hold until you resort to using your teeth for the job.

The discarded package is thrown to the side, cock still yet in his hand as he wags it towards you, red hot tip leaking and begging for your attention.

For any attention at this point.

He briefly wonders if you’ll tell your friends all about your fumbling about too, but you deprive him the chance of dwelling on the thought for too long, heeding his warning of future company and time constraints by placing the end of the condom right on top of his tip, and he groans in both frustration at the feeling—bareback is infinitely better, but is he fuck knocking up a fan of all girls—and enjoyment at the fact that he’ll soon be able to rid the anxiety building in his chest.

The cooling effect of the condom does little to calm his lust—pure unadulterated lust, nothing else harboured for the moment—especially when you pout so prettily back at him like that. Seeking more approval for the way you gently, slowly, roll it down his whole length. Trying to keep the tension of teasing alive and well in spite of the lack of time he has with you, leaving just a peek of his base free from the constraint of safety as he finally lets out a shaky sigh once you let go and flutter your lashes back at him expectantly.

You are rather pretty. Makes it easier to stay hard at the very least.

“Thanks,” he breathes, hot and heavy, unintentionally flirting with the simple appreciation he offers you if the way you flush and hide from his half-lidded drug induced gaze is anything to go by. He’s sensitive too, much more than normal, thanks to the weed. Could probably get off just as well if he had the energy to jack himself off in private, but the warmth of another body was too enticing to pass up on, especially with the way you practically skipped right behind him into the tour bus. “I uh— Are you ready?”

He couldn’t care less about whatever fantasy version of him you must have built up in your head through viewing him in interviews, music videos, live on stage… He only cares about getting what he wants in the easiest manner possible. Though he assumes he doesn’t have to check in with you, his head tilting at the way your thighs rub together provocatively, coaxing another fat bead of precum to try and escape his new confines. Instead smearing nicely against his tip as he instinctively reaches out to grab at his erection, feeling the weight of every throb your coquettish actions pull out of him.

“Yes. More than.” You state plainly, clear and carrying some sort of faux confidence he decides to exploit.

“Good,” his hands once again find home on your hips, tapping at them lightly as an attempt at encouragement to get closer. “C’mon then,” he rasps, shuffling down the sheets to bob his cock closer to your core. “Need it.”

Not you. It. The mere act of sex itself as opposed to you as a person. The sole worth you provide him right now. Hidden only behind a short skirt and thin panty barrier he intends on penetrating if you don’t hurry up with dragging it to the side, just before you reposition as he wordlessly asks for. Almost as if you planned for this exact situation more than the concert itself, right? Maybe all of his fans feel the same way. That’d be embarrassing for them, he muses to himself.

It’s not the most comfortable position given how tiny the bed is compared to two bodies, but the weight you offer him on top is at least appreciated with a dry hum. Pleasantly surprised at best, amused at worst. At any rate, this is the extent of what you can offer him at the moment, and he wastes no time in exploiting your timid efforts for his own selfish needs. Flipping your skirt up with ease, chewing on his lip right at the slight sliver of pussy you allow him to see. And though under any other circumstance—perhaps with a lover, and not someone like you—he’d appreciate the teasing a little more. Would enjoy dragging the moment out for as long as his weak heart could handle; but he simple can’t wait any longer. Driven purely by lust, he taps his cock against your mound once or twice in a begging to hurry the fuck up, smearing beads of precum over the condom until your barrier is fully removed to the side, and he’s instead tapping his tip against your warm, soaked little sit.

Fucking fans, he internally chastises you. He’s got no idea how you’re not somehow mortified about your actions tonight. Gross.

Though the fact that you are in fact already this ready for him is a bonus. Means he doesn’t have to put any more effort in, tilting his hips without a word to angle his condom covered cock down towards your hole, one hand digging his nails into the fat of your thighs to help you sit up a bit to help accommodate his length.

“Sit.” He breathes, not intending on commanding, but you seem to misconstrue his words as such anyway in one fell swoop. Forcing him into shooting upright, briefly, before falling back down onto the cheap sheets once your ass is plush against his thighs. Sopping wet, aiding in the stretch his cock imprints inside of your eager hole—you could at least pretend not to be so desperate. It’s not a good look.

“Fuck me,” he rasps, giving himself a second to adjust to the feeling of your vice grip tight cunt, imagining that part of it must be a genuine attempt not to let him leave, and that you simply cannot be this fucking tight right off the bat. His ego won’t allow it. “Are you—” he swallows thickly, biting his tongue. “You ready?”

You surely look it. Flushed cheeks, lips parting in an attempt to breathe through the girth he provides, a moan caught behind your tongue because he hasn’t given you permission to move, let alone speak yet.

But he doesn’t have the time for any allegations of anything sinister, so he’s obliged to ask, despite how enthusiastic you are about taking his cock.

You nod as quickly as you can, and he notices a small gulp, a little swallow to try and steel yourself for whats about to come. He doesn’t intend on playing too roughly, but you have wasted enough of his time already.

With all the respect you currently deserve, he draws his hips back as much as he can—which really isn’t much at all, given how flush you are against him—before snapping them back against you, resulting in a slight bounce that he immediately takes advantage of by repeating the action again and again, his palms gripping to your waist to keep you steady enough to take his cock, because he’s selfish and doesn’t so much care for your safety as he does for his own pleasure. Which means you must stay put, besides the bouncing he’s fucking you into, otherwise his cock might slip free and he doesn’t have the patience to hump his way back inside.

It’s not like he hears you complaining about his greedy attitude anyway. Immediately holding onto his sweat soaked top for dear life, mouth hanging open now as hushed moans threaten to slip past your tongue, hot breath fucked out of you with his sudden fast pace; now that he’s started, he hasn’t a hope in stopping. Not when it feels so good to be using you like this, an external show of his frustration, his disgust in how hopeless you are for him. What was he even mad about in the first place…?

Oh, right. Sam and Abi taking a stand against some bullshit decision for the band—God, he’s still so riled up about it. Enough to just…

Without thinking, a hand raises to the back of your head, shaky in the vice hold it soon takes of your hair as he fucks faster at the argumentative memory. He can’t help but to feel like this is a low point in his life, wrapping your hair between his bruised knuckles, giving you as much of a knowing look as he possibly can without his eyes rolling to the back of his skull when you ride his cock like that, even if forced into the motion from how mean his unfair thrusts are. Like he’s mad at you. But you’re a good girl, aren’t you? Just a needy, pathetic little fan, who wants nothing from him besides his cock. So you nod, like he’d expected, before he tightens his grip on your hair and he pulls.

The neck his action reveals has him drooling, just a little. Spurred on by how tight your little cunt gets at his roughness, cheap bed promising to break under the harsh squeaks his humps make. But he’s gotta hand it to you—you sure do look pretty when getting fucked.

“Takin’ me— ah, taking it so well,” he corrects himself through breathless grunts. Licking his lips absently as he appreciates the view of you without your face front and centre, so that you’re unable to watch him enjoy himself ruin your tight hole. “That’s it, atta girl—” he encourages, just to keep you nice and tight and wet for him, cock throbbing at the feeling of your slick dripping down to the sheets under his ass.

He’s not entirely sure if the dizziness he’s experiencing is from the weed or from how hot the back room gets when he’s fucking you as hard as he can, heaving with panted gasps for air as you continue to bounce up and down his fat cock, letting him set the pace with heavy, eager humps for more. Of you? Surely not, more catharsis. Tonight’s previous annoyance slowly ebbing away with every well timed thrust, fucking as deep as he possibly can to finally make those pretty moans spill from your parted lips, a sound that forces his mind further away from the band to instead focus on the present.

At the way you grip his cock like a champ, even with the condom on he can feel your walls fluttering around him, like you’re trying to prove yourself to him or something. Even as you struggle to take the pace he fucks you at, your grip slipping once or twice as you instead rely on him to keep you upright with his nails digging gently into your scalp and the other steadfast on your hip. Pushing you down onto his cock so that not much gets to leave before he’s already slamming back up into you, channelling all of his restless energy into precise, brutal thrusts that leave you squeaky.

He hasn’t the willpower to be annoyed at the sounds you make when his cock seems to easily enjoy them. Shuddering precum from his tip, begging to mark you from the inside out—not that he’d ever grace you with such niceties, but the frustration builds in his balls as he instead takes to fucking you faster. Harder, tugging on your hair one last mean time before returning to your hips, and lifting you into the air. Just a little, enough so that you’re kneeling instead of sitting, allowing him complete control to ruin you some more. Fuck his shape into you so that no one else seems to fit, so that you’ll spend forever wishing that he’d just pick you, trying to replace the feeling of tonight for as long as you live because nothing could ever compare to fucking him, right? To live out every fans dream, taking his fat cock over and over again, able to reach out and touch his chest, his neck, his cheek—right before he tugs his face away under the guise of a rough moan.

Besides, it’s much easier to swallow his guilt over the act of fan fucking when he imagines you as a realistic toy. Just something for him to play with and nothing more, his rhythm slipping up once or twice as your volume increases, some sort of mantra consisting solely of his name that goes straight to his cock escapes you, heels planted firmly against the sheets to help leverage his hips up and up, not once providing you with a break because this is all about him and how he feels.

Which is good, mind you. So good, a string of curses escaping him at the way you just… Just let him use you like this. Like you’re happy to do so, biting down on your bottom lip with cracked pleads for more, clinging to him with sheer desperation as he seeks more of that selfish pleasure you’re so eager to offer him. Small, tight little hole wrapping around him so perfectly, so nice and snug, leaving him a little breathless as short huffs and groans are all that crawl up his throat. No words are needed beyond please, yes, oh my God, not when your cunt is doing all the talking for him. Contracting around him, so obviously on the cusp of feeling better than you ever have—and likely ever will—that the intense milking grip of your hole around his fat cock has him struggling to hold on. Using your heated skin for stability, praying that the bed doesn’t break under the weight of his fast fucks, he tuts quietly at your inability to last long yourself.

Not that he expected anything more of you, but he nonetheless fucks harder at your signals. Thrusting deeper, keeping you pinned in place with rough hands as he forcibly bounces you up and down, staring directly at your tits as they bounce with you, pretty cleavage almost hypnotising him as he concentrates on the way your cunt takes him. Wet squelches of your enjoyment echo in the small room around him, the bed under him violently begging for a break as he only pays attention to himself, fucking at a tempo that suits him, a greedy grunt driving him forward as he thrusts a couple more times for good measure.

And even as he’s cumming, spilling the accumulation of frustration and pity into the condom you so nicely adorned him with earlier, he’s still fucking into you. Small stuttered thrusts to completion, milking himself empty inside of your useful cunt until he’s completely spent, only letting go of the iron grip he has of you once he’s sure that he’s done, and even then he’s still circling his hips idly once you’re settled back down on his lap.

He’s not sure if you came too, and he’s certainly not fussed either way. Catching his breath in the now stuffy room, a wave of disgust washes over him at the lovesick little look you send his way. Only he hasn’t the strength at all now to mimic your affection, abstaining from such niceties to instead squeeze his eyes shut with a throw back of his head.

He’ll blame the weed, he decides. I was under the influence, that’s all.

“Was it good?”

Even you don’t assume to speak so highly about yourself. It’s not I, but rather it.

“Yeah,” he sighs, shifting his hips away from you in a plead for you to get up off of him, which you thankfully understand without any complaint, allowing him to remove and tie the condom off to the side. The sight of his spent seed grosses him out, a welling of frustration tightening around his chest. “Thanks.” He manages to huff out.

“Sure,” you plop back down onto the bed, waiting a second for him to lazily look over at you, and then down at your lower half, before settling back at on your face. “I uh, I suppose I should get going, right?”

Thank fucking God.

“Right, the crew should be back soon and…” And, well, you know. He doesn’t want to entertain you any more than he already has.

“Yeah, no, totally. I get it!” You smile genuinely at him, and all he feels in your regard is shame. Some regret too, maybe. “Lemme just…”

Behind you is some miscellaneous items brought on by himself, Sam, Abi, and God knows who else. Some leftover makeup from previous fans no doubt, empty alcohol cans, and more of the like. But most importantly to you is a small notepad and pen.

Sebastian rolls his eyes when you aren’t looking.

“Here,” you hand him the obvious phone number once scribbled down, a sickening little heart underneath it as if it’d help your case. “N-not that I wanna assume or anything but…”

“Thanks.” He takes the paper passively, yawning as he stretches out on the ruined sheets in an effort to get you gone sooner.

An awkward silence fills the air before you finally take the hint, and once again thank him for his time before heading out. Though he waits until he hears the bus door open before calling a halfhearted “Stay safe getting home!” to you, knowing full well that the almost forgotten about nicety will likely make your night.

as far as first dates go, junhui would say this one has been pretty good. sometimes you really click with someone right away, and he can’t speak for you but he definitely felt it tonight. you’d spent so long talking together, that the waiter had had to ask you to leave so they could close the restaurant.

"can we park somewhere?" you ask suddenly, to his curiosity. he nods and pulls into the exit lane to get off the freeway, but the next words that come out of your mouth he wouldn’t have guessed in a million years.

"i've been really wet since dinner, and… i wanna ride you. if that's cool, i mean."

his cheeks have never turned that many shades of red so quickly before, but he's not one to complain when an opportunity presents itself. he can't lie and say he hasn't been stealing glances at your beautiful tits all night long and hoping that sooner or later he'll get to see them bouncing in his face.

it doesn't take long before he's found a secluded spot at the back of an empty parking lot; it's past midnight, after all, and most places are closed by now. as soon as the ignition's shut off you're scrambling to unbuckle your seatbelt and climbing over the center console to plant yourself in his lap, and god, you can already feel how hard he is beneath you. 

his hands find your waist immediately, starting to slide up your sides as you fumble with your pants. you can't remember the last time you were this greedy, this impatient, and especially on a first date. but the way his hair falls in his face, the way he’d grinned mischievously at you every time you’d make a joke, and the way he's been staring at you all fucking night like he wants to devour you — you can't help but want him.

you can feel your panties sticking to you as you push them away and slide them down your legs. the crampedness of his car and the way your body is angled makes it awkward to pull off gracefully, but neither of you seem to care. his hands are still gripping your sides with his thumbs beneath your breasts, resting there almost like he's forgotten what he's doing. his eyes are fixed on your face, enamored with the little frustrated scrunch of your nose as you struggle to fling your clothes off.

he finally seems to snap back into action when you've successfully stripped your lower half and begin focusing your attention on his jeans. he squeezes your sides a little rougher, just enough to get you to stop, and your eyes flick back up to his.

"can— can i see these?" he asks, his voice a little more gruff as his fingers slide closer to your breasts. 

the wicked grin you give him in return makes the both of you start to move a little faster. his dick is painfully hard by now, and all he wants to do is press his nose between your tits until he suffocates in them.

you take your hands off his zipper and move up to your tank top, pulling it down to sit beneath your breasts. you start to reach behind you to unclip your bra, but he's too quick; within seconds you feel the pressure in your back release, the straps slipping down your shoulders as his fingers expertly undo the clasp. he does it too easily, too practiced, and it only makes you want those fingers inside you all the more. 

he doesn't hesitate to remove the loose fabric and toss it into the backseat, leaving your breasts bare on display in front of him. his hands resume their position at your chest, and he's so fixated on them that you don't even think he fully notices when you go back to working on his zipper.

but his attention refocuses when he feels the pressure from his pants loosen, and he lets out a groan when he looks down and sees your hand palming his bulge. he's no stranger to one night stands and he's had more than his fair share of hookups, but god, this might actually be the best night of his life. he manages to bring one hand away from your boobs long enough to swipe it between your legs, and he nearly hisses at the feeling. you weren't lying earlier—you're fucking soaked. so much so that when he pulls his hand away to look, three of his fingers glisten under the dim streetlight, connected by thin strings of your arousal.

he needs you on his cock, now, and judging by the slick on his hand you're probably wet enough to take him without any prep. but his last shred of sense is screaming at him to sink his fingers deep into your pussy first until you're shaking on his lap, and he's obliged to listen.

he's never been this desperate to fuck someone before, and if he had any coherent thoughts still running through his brain he might be embarrassed about that. but you're so equally enthusiastic that he honestly can't bring himself to care. it's not every day that a date goes this well, so you might as well enjoy it.

junhui traces your entrance with his fingertips, making wide circles around the area without touching where you really want him. he's teasing, he can't help it, but he's also waiting for you to let him continue. he glances up at your face again, and he smirks in satisfaction when he sees that cute little frustrated scrunch of your nose again, your mouth hanging slightly open and your shoulders braced in concentration.

"you want my fingers?" he asks. he's trying unbelievably hard not to push his hips upward to get the feeling of your wetness brushing against his bulge. it's probably even more restraint than it's taking you to not start grinding down on his leg and work yourself to completion that way. but the voice of reason in the back of your head is telling you that that won't be nearly as satisfying as cumming on his cock or his fingers will be, and so you resist.

"please," you choke out, your hips writhing in the air from the lack of stimulation.

he finally complies, teasingly tracing around your lips one last time before pushing into you. you can feel his fingers getting wetter and wetter each time he plunges them into you, curling them at just the right angle that makes your knees weak on either side of his hips. your whole body is alight from his touch, every nerve on fire, and you already know it's not going to take much more for you to fall apart. 

his other arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you firmly planted against him despite how hard your body instinctively tries to buck away from the pleasure. your hands fall to his shoulders as you struggle to hold on, and you're sure he can feel your nails digging into his skin, but he doesn't say anything. he just continues to fuck you with his fingers, silently watching your face as the car fills with wet, messy noises. no one in your life has ever gotten you this close so quickly.

suddenly he pulls his fingers out, and you shudder in frustration as you feel your orgasm ebbing away. he holds his dripping fingers in front of your face, and without him even needing to ask, you open your mouth and welcome them. his fingers are hot against your lips, the bitter taste of your own arousal coating the inside of your mouth as you swirl your tongue around them. somehow he doesn't seem shocked at your immediate reaction; he seems pleased, even. yeah, this is the man you've been waiting for all your life.

your eyelashes flutter as you suck, unable to control the choked whimpers and whines that slip past your lips. your self control is waning, and without thinking your hips start to grind against him, desperate to keep the stimulation going.

you're quick to speak after he pulls his fingers from between your lips, satisfied with the way you've cleaned them for him. "wanna cum on your cock, junnie," you whimper. the nickname slips out without thinking, and you’re still unconsciously rubbing yourself against his clothed bulge. your eyes are blown wide when he looks at you, and while the rational part of his mind knows it's because it's dark outside, he can't help the surge of pride that rushes through him seeing you so fucked out already. if this is what you look like, just from riding his fingers? he can't wait to see what you look like taking more.

"you want my cock, baby?" he groans, testing out a nickname of his own and watching how you bloom from the praise.

you lift your hips enough for him to pull his dick out of his pants and finally get a good look at what's going to be rearranging your guts tonight.

"you're so— thick," you choke out, trying not to stumble over your words, but your mouth is watering at the sight of him and all the previously reasonable thoughts in your brain have instantly been replaced with pure want. he's so much bigger than you expected.

"can you take it?" he says, confidence faltering a little when he sees how enraptured you're staring. he's used to hearing the shock and excitement in people’s voices when they see him, but he knows from experience that having a big dick isn't always what it's cracked up to be.

you're silent for another second, blinking as you try to collect your thoughts, and then you lift your head and kiss him hard. but you pull away just as quickly, barely giving him time to register everything as you nod.

"yeah. i can. want you to make it fit," you breathe out, a whisper against his lips, and all he can do is groan and kiss you again. he pulls you tighter against him as your mouths crash together, the heat between you building more and more with each passing second. he's still not even inside you yet, but you're both moving your hips in tandem as if he was, chasing the friction that isn't there yet.

junhui finally pulls back again, creating barely enough room to slip his hand between your bodies and fist his cock. his free hand squeezes your hips roughly to get you to stop moving long enough to line himself up with your pussy.

you finally sink down onto his length, and both your loud groans fill the compact space. he hisses at the tight feeling around his cock as you whimper, eyes squeezed shut again in concentration. he can feel your walls throbbing against him as he struggles to keep himself still, knowing you're still adjusting. fuck, he wants nothing more than to pound into you like there's no tomorrow, but he has to wait. he's way too close to the edge already, so he starts counting the seconds in his head to try and distract himself until you're ready. you can feel every inch of him stretching you open, buried so deep in you that it makes your head spin.

your legs are already starting to burn from sitting in this position but after another minute once your muscles start to relax, you manage to lift yourself up and push your hips back down. it's an agonizingly slow rhythm as his cock forces itself into the tight space, but you still haven't quite caught your breath. you keep moving at this pace, up down, up down, in out, in out, until he grips your hips and pulls you down to stop your motion with him fully buried inside you.

"want me to take over?" he whines, and it catches you off guard to hear his voice a little higher and a little more broken than before. 

the noise that leaves your mouth can only be described as inhuman, and he nods in acknowledgement as you give up control. there's a few seconds of pause, as if giving you a chance to change your mind, before he snaps his hips upward and you immediately let out a squeak, a heavy breath of pleasure mixed with relief. his arms settle around your lower back for leverage, which forces you to arch your spine and push your chest into his face. but that only seems to spur him on even more as he buries himself in your breasts, pressing against his cheeks. 

when jun groans you can practically feel the reverberations in your ribcage, and you wrap your arms around his head to keep him in place. the new pace he's set isn't much faster than before, but it's a thousand times more intense as he fucks into you, filling every part of you to the brim with each thrust.

it only takes a few more rough snaps of his hips before the coil inside you breaks, and you have to hold back a scream as your body contorts in ways you didn't even know were possible. your voice is nearly hoarse as you cry out his name over and over again, begging him not to stop, not to change anything, to please just keep fucking you. and he listens, doing his best to keep you upright despite the way you writhe in his grip. with your breasts in his face he can feel your heartbeat in his ears as if it's his own, and it takes so much concentration to make sure he doesn't immediately follow you over the edge right after. when your shaking starts to subside a little and he's positive he can't hold back any longer, he tips his head back to speak.

"where can i—"

you interrupt before he can get all the words out. "inside. i'm on the pill. please."

he whines and buries his face in your breasts again, leaving sloppy kisses all over your skin between curses muttered under his breath. with a few more rough thrusts he's done, holding you even tighter against him as he spills into you and groaning louder when you clench your muscles around him.

"fuckin' milking my cock," he hisses into your chest with eyes shut, his voice rough from how hard he's focused.

your hip bones ache, both from the position and from the sheer size of him that you aren’t accustomed to, and you slump into the passenger seat with your legs still across his lap. his hand immediately slides between your thighs, his large palm cupping your pussy to collect his cum that's beginning to leak out of you. it takes him a second before he's able to form words, but he rubs your thigh soothingly as nods at you.

"napkins in the glove box," he manages, and you're jolted back to reality as you remember you're still laid out in his car and he probably doesn't want to get cum all over his seats.

with his free hand he reaches for your panties, which somehow ended up on the dashboard, and he passes them over to you as he starts to clean you up. you lean your head back against the window and let out a shaky breath, forcing yourself to come back down. the cold glass sends a chill through you as you feel the warmth beginning to drain out of you, bare skin prickling with goosebumps.

after a few minutes and a few crumpled napkins tossed on the floor, he clears his throat, and you manage to refocus your eyes enough to meet his gaze. 

"your place, or mine?"

"huh?"

your ears are still ringing from the intensity of your orgasm, and you're not sure what he just said. it kinda sounded like he wants to sleep over with you, but there's no way a guy as hot as him wants more than just a quick fuck.

"would you rather go home or come back to my place?" he repeats. "i'm not leaving you alone after that. you need a shower, and probably some tylenol." he winces a little and looks down at his lap, and it's almost strange to see him so shy after he just fucked you into another dimension. "i probably should've given you more warning. car sex isn't that easy on a first date, but fuck, you took it so well, and—"

"you can come over to mine," you interrupt him, still laying halfway in the passenger seat and trying not to be completely useless even though you feel like a melted puddle. "best first date i've ever had."

you can tell the exact moment that your words register in his brain, because the relief that spreads across his face is plain as day. as soon as you can muster all the strength you have left, you sit up and pull your legs back over into your seat, pushing yourself into a comfortable position.

"next time i want to fuck your tits," he exhales shakily as he puts his seatbelt back on, though his voice comes out more like a squeak.

"next time?" you ask, making your best attempt to playfully raise an eyebrow at him. he may be bringing you home and taking care of you, but that doesn't guarantee there's going to be a next time. well, maybe it does. you're really looking forward to there being a next time.

he scoffs, only fumbling a little bit to shove his keys into the ignition. "don't play dumb. i know you enjoyed that. don't act like you don't wanna see yourself covered in my cum after i'm done with you."

the shiver that runs down your spine and the way you instinctively press your thighs together is all the confirmation he needs.

© junkissed 2026. do not repost or translate. ── ⊹ ˙ . 𖥻 want to be notified when i post new fics? join my taglist!

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its not like you really had a chance anyways. the truth is, you were fucked from the moment he spotted you. and it just made it all the more easy for him to go through with it, too, what with him making it out to be your idea; your tease of a threat–your innocent joke–to find him backstage was met with a taunt of his own, and really it’s cute how obedient you were to follow instructions when he beckoned you from around the back door after the show. down to those shocked, wide eyes you looked at him with, just the spitting image of a helpless deer.

it was even cuter when, after he’d ransacked his precious stash to provide you both with a shot of liquor in celebration of finishing the performance, you were too stupid to notice the hastily dissolving tablet as he handed you the small glass. stupid because he didn’t even try to hide it—had it right under your nose literally while he pretended to conversate with you before coaxing you into finally downing it. could barely keep himself contained when he saw how it went down your throat, itching to squeeze it closed or stuff it full he didn’t know. hopefully soon, you’d be in the right headspace to make the decision for him.

its only a couple more minutes of letting you lead the conversation–‘i don’t mean to be a bother to your band mates,’ ‘what was that drink anyways?’ ‘it’s getting kind of warm in here, don’t you think..?’–before he sees your eyelids set deeper and your lashes fluttering as you try to keep them open. he’s already buzzing with excitement, the anticipation coursing from his gut to his fingertips and the top of his head, nearly turning himself dizzy in the blur but he brings himself back with the thought that you were way too easy..

he cracks a forced half-smile, soft in a way to be unassuming, and uses the adrenaline to will himself into standing from the tattered black couch. he smears his palms on his too-tight jeans–they were drenched–and almost laughs at himself for being too easy to get excited.

he makes his way to the door in a steady stride, looking back briefly to see you lay yourself on the couch lazily fanning your face. you’re watching him and he wonders for a moment if that’s concern lacing your eyebrows. he attempts to sway your worries with another tight lipped smile, gripping on the handle of the door as if to open it and let in some air, just to wiggle it to double check it’s left locked.

“hey–” he turns with a hand out, palm facing down, “don’t worry.. i’ll take care of ya.”

he feels that same buzz of excitement when he hears a whimper get caught in your throat. he swallows thickly, keep it in your pants, fuck, and keeps himself from pouncing now by busying himself with cracking the small vent-sized window high on the wall adjacent to the couch. not just for your sake at this point, but for his own too.

his hand digs in his zipped open jacket for that familiar rectangular box, fishing out a cigarette with practiced movements and lighting it with equal ease. the end burns with orange embers as he takes a deep inhale through the filter, puffing at it a few times and letting the excess smoke wash over his raised hand. the harsh sensation on his throat contrasts to how it soothes his mind–each inhale almost a peek into the euphoric buzz that will be getting to indulge in you all while he convinces you it’s what you want. it's what you need now that his handy little drug has taken effect. he’ll make sure of it.

he turns on a heel to step back towards you, eyes on how you’ve tucked your legs up near you on the couch and the resulting swell of your thighs. his mouth is already watering and he needs to take a heavy gulp before he speaks again,

“look, see…you’re just a bit hot, right?” his smirk this time is genuine, but ideally you won't be privy to the real reason why, “people don’t usually wear thick sweaters like yours to crowded shows like this,” a low chuckle gets caught in his throat, focused on making sure his hands trembling with excitement don’t drop his half-smoked cigarette on your face while he brushes a few stray strands of hair back into place.

and the sweater you wear isn’t even that outlandish for the event; in fact it was probably standard attire, rips and tacky graphic and all. but at this point he’s banking on the fact that you hold him on too high a pedestal–and are gullible enough to believe him.

you nod slow, in a manner like you didn’t really hear him but go along with what he says anyways.

“it’s.. yeah… makin’ me dizzy, too..” and another victorious ding sounds in his head. he can’t hold himself back another moment, greedy paws already going to grab at the sweater resting on your waist while he makes room for himself on the couch with your resting form. scrambling like he just can’t help himself, like he needs to be pressed up against your warm and smaller-than-his body in the next few moments or he’ll truly snap. he manages to fit in front of you, almost pushing you back down into the cushion with how oppressively he traps you in.

“don’ worry, i gotcha,” he huffs under his breath, like it doesn’t matter to him whether you heard or not. it’s not genuine reassurance in the first place anyways.

there was really no reason to wiping his palms before; he can feel how the sweat is already back on his hands and the back of his neck, prickling his skin with the accompanying goosebumps that arise from feeling and hearing your pathetic breaths fan between you two. almost like a teaser for how he’ll have you sounding in a few moments, once he gets out of his head and the fantasies planted in his brain just from the way you had watched him while he was on stage.

his free hand curls around the thick of your sweater at last. his eyes are glued to where your skin peeks below the hem, and his lecherous smirk is an unconscious reaction when you don’t seem to protest his upward tugs at the fabric. in his haste the burning out cigarette gets tucked between your pretty pout, just to grab both your wrists and maneuver them above your head.

“stay just like that,” like you had a choice in the first place–your muscles were way too weak at this point to try and struggle. entirely uncoordinated and way too eager he pulls up your sweater, revealing the expanse of your soft tummy to his dark hungry gaze. and even despite just placing the cigarette in your mouth, he spares no time as he pulls almost desperately to get it over your head and off your arms, leaving the cuffs around your wrists like flimsy make-shift handcuffs.

another high pitched whine of yours blesses his ears and his cock pulses with his heart for a beat until–

“mmh.. s’gross,” manages to tumble past your lips and the white roll falls as a result, landing at your collarbone next to the strap of a bra he’s sure you hadn’t planned to show anyone; literally ripping at the seams and very obviously well-worn. he was shocked you managed to open your mouth again, chuckling lightly in disbelief–no, awe–at your determination to stay conscious. like you want to bear witness to what his depraved mind has convinced him to do.

like it somehow makes it okay if you seem conscious enough to say no if you want to, but you don’t, and who is he to say no to you offering yourself up so nicely. the way you squirm under his weight and rub your sticky skin against his palms you don’t even know that you’re only making it more exciting. how the light bounces off your sweat and creates a mesmerizing pattern, only sucking him deeper into the spell you had unknowingly put him in. or maybe you did know and that would make it all the better–because that’d mean that you want it.

you squirm again from the sensation of the burning end of the cigarette singing your collarbone. blinking he realizes his palms are groping the fat of your chest and molding to the shape of his hands, bulging between his digits and turning his mouth dry.

as if burned by your touch he draws his hands back with another idea. he suddenly remembers the joint he indulged in only halfway and set aside before he had to make appearances for the show, left for later on the very coffee table next to him; now in his hold again with his lighter fast approaching.

“try this instead then,” he speaks between a harsh drag of his own and another that he huffs into your mouth as he grabs at your jaw meanly to keep it open. 

he exhales the heavy smoke into your untrained lungs and yet your sputtering coughs don’t dissuade him–in fact they make it all the harder to not shut you up with his own mouth; show you how to handle the green and just let it take over your mind so he can take over your body.

he’s practically trembling in his excitement; it’s a wonder how he doesn’t collapse right on top of you where you lay catching your breath. you make it even harder on him when your eyes, squeezed shut to protect against the fanning weed smoke, drop tears down your temples thanks to how hard you’re coughing. your mouth, opened so wide to take in large greedy gulps of fresh air yet all you get is more of the dizzying smoke sucked from his own stash that he’s bestowing unto you–be grateful that he’s willing to sacrifice so much.

he finds himself a moment later almost having gotten carried away–thank god he caught himself before his own mind slipped too far. between his fingers is now just a roach and fuck rocking the hardening bulge in his pants up against your thighs suddenly feels so heavenly. and to think–had he not done all this, he might’ve never known! now that would just be too unfair, y’see–you’re such a tease–so he just had to make it right. eyelids setting heavier over his eyes already he drops what was left of the roll to the floor, uncaring of where it ends up.

his self control has thinned enough now, he decides. he can practically taste you on the tip of his tongue–saccharine and syrupy he just knows it. can’t bear to have it so close but so far anymore.

your bottoms are being tugged down to your thighs before your mind even has a chance to catch up, what with you still reeling from the smoke in your lungs and the resulting haze. you only register how exposed you’ve suddenly become when the air of the room feels cool against your inner thighs and sends a shiver up your spine.

“shit– you’re s’wet..” he huffs the words like they were never meant for you in the first place–maybe they weren’t, almost reverent and entirely desperate. your eyes finally open again, fuzzy and unfocused when you realize he hasn’t just exposed you, no–he’s already dived in, can’t even help himself. the line between your copious amounts of slick and the saliva dripping from his greedy maw is entirely blurred and the resulting sounds make your head heat with a self-conscious flush.

“w-wait… what are you…!” your confused plea falls on seemingly deaf ears, small and far too hushed to be convincing. your weak neck attempts to lift your head to catch sight of the mess of hot breath and spit between your legs.

should be illegal how good you taste–how well the drug worked–making you pour all this sweetness like an overflowing pot of honey into this frenzied bear’s mouth. his hands dig into the backs of your thighs, carving small crescents into the flesh. with brows furrowed he only sinks in further, drinking you down in earnest and worshipping your little hole.

it’s enough to make you squirm under his surprisingly strong grip, but with that powdered pill coursing through your veins you aren’t sure if your hips are bucking away or towards him for more. it’s effects we’re almost dizzying, a swift punch to your senses and making you feel hot, oh so hot. covered in a thin sheen of sweat and radiating every mind-numbing throb from your core to your every nerve. with that cursed nose of his, big, but strong–yet cute, you’d thought earlier in the night, bumping against your swollen clit sending involuntary shocks of pleasure through your every hyper-sensitive limb. and when he gives that a break just to suck and flick at it hard with his tongue, you know. you know that your hips are canting towards his awaiting mouth, that you welcome the trembling of your legs from the unending onslaught of his ministrations, and that you want more.

“did you.. what’d you jus’ say?”

the poor thing you are, all drugged up and pliant, didn’t even notice you said those words out loud. even all sluggish and quiet, he’s sure he heard those words right and it damn near makes him short circuit on the spot.

“not.. ‘nuff… need more,” you almost don’t recognize your own voice, how breathless and faraway it sounded in your own ears, the words processing then instead of before they tumbled out of your mouth. and… well, who was he to deny you offering yourself up so nicely.

between the heartbeat rattling against his ribcage like a bird in captivity and the same heartbeat just below his waistband, he’s wound up enough to know he doesn’t need to ask anymore questions–not that he really had to. he unclasps his belt with one hand, keeping your legs up with the other; not bothering to pull his own pants down more than necessary. just enough to flip the zipper open and dig his hand down his briefs to yank his cock out.

and he wastes no time at all lining himself up with your weeping hole which he just can’t seem to tear his eyes from, clenching around nothing but his swollen tip and turning his mouth dry. it’s as he blinks slowly, almost a split-second decision to sink himself in entirely that he curses lowly and the breath is punched out of both of your lungs.

you feel even better than he could’ve imagined, somehow. whether that be the weed in his system, or that pill in yours, or his own underestimation. he’s throbbing and aching to pound you silly and soothe that tight burn low in his gut–if only he could get a grip first. his sweaty palms release your legs which fall uselessly to either side of his hips, the heat from them alone enough to have him reeling. he hunches over you like he’s mounting you, gripping at your hips like a lifeline and holding your ass up off the couch to get even deeper. nudging right up against the spongy spot inside that makes you whimper. so pathetic and high-pitched he’s convinced you’re out to kill him.

he almost laughs, “ooh, fuck.. you have such a slutty little hole–” a depraved smile on his face but his brows furrowed, really just in disbelief. and it’s as if saying it out loud made it all the more real, but he still holds his breath as he grinds involuntarily into your gummy walls just to check. “s’like you’re suckin’ me in..” he scoots in closer, letting your hips rest on his thighs. and interestingly enough, he can’t seem to sit still.

the hot drag of your walls along his cock is all he can focus on, all he can bare to keep up with. he’s truly screwed himself somehow–put himself in the position of being devoted to humping up against you until he can’t anymore. “fuck, wait.. quit– quit squeezin’ so hard,” he’s choking up, unable to catch his breath with how restless his hips are. practically huffing down your neck and drooling over your skin, hunched over like a man starved finally getting fed. in some twisted way he is; finally found the one that’ll satiate his craving, sit back and let him take what he needs, but not just that–you asked for it, and that fact alone is making him go haywire.

“c-can’t,” you hiccup, mind already utter mush and body jolting with every gushy thrust. your fingers are clawing at the outturned sleeves still encasing your wrists; unable to get them off with your arms as weak as they are, you opted for leaving them there. in hindsight, it was a good decision. especially considering it was the only thing keeping you grounded right now, no thanks to the guy who was seemingly trying to fuck you right off the edge of the couch. the one who doubles down when he notices your back bowing reflexively, using it as motivation to really give you more like you asked for. “s’too m-much!”

“nonono, you wanted this,” he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and tugs you back towards him with his bruising grip, your head ending up positioned in such a way where you have no choice but to watch him sink into you over and over, “yer gonna– mmfuck– take it,” his voice breaks and so does the sharp tone, pleading more than anything through his low whines.

for a moment, you cant look away–every lewd clap of skin ringing in your ears accompanied by the sight, the feeling–and when he drags you on the couch to properly fuck into you, changing the angle and rearranging your insides to fit his shape you fall apart.

every thrust is a pain turned pleasure shooting up your spine, the blunt tip of his dick bullying your poor cervix, but you still only want more. you’re so close already, can almost taste it on the tip of your tongue. whatever was turning you silly was doing a damn good job, engulfing you in a heat that’s only being soothed by how relentless his thrusts are into your gummy walls. tightening the knot in your core, promising that sweet release, making your head and eyes roll back just before you will your lazy gaze to the source of a low broken groan.

you almost yelped out, one of his hands suddenly flying up to brace himself up against the armrest and effectively caging you in. after getting over the startle your eyes blink open again, refocusing on the face above you. his furrowed brow and slightly parted lips are dripping both sweat and saliva on your flushed skin, his own cheeks and nose similarly pinkened. the expression he makes, the utter desire and desperation written in his darkened eyes, literally drooling over you–your heart flutters suddenly and you can’t break your eyes away.

before this all started, before the drink and before even having the conversation that led you into this very room, you couldn’t deny your attraction to him. all quiet, brooding, mysterious; the only thing you knew about him was that the sight of his talented fingers stroking at the keys of that keyboard, lost in the music amidst the impressively-bustling bar crowd made you feel things. things not too different from what you’re experiencing now, just… intensified.

you tuned out everything else between the ad-libs of other onlookers and the pestering of your friends, your eyes settled snugly on the dark haired man up on the short stage that you could swear looked back at you. multiple times. and every time he did it was like you were bolted into place; at a standstill ignited by the skip of your heart like you were exchanging unspoken words.

after the performance and the crowd died down, you knew that familiar shag of black hair and the lazy, almost uninterested eyes peeking from the backstage door was a contract. a loaded one, surely–there was no way of knowing how your night would play out by walking through that door. the last gulp of your overpriced cocktail, the hurried goodbyes to your friends, and the unwavering stride you embodied to follow him through it was your signature.

in the end, all you really cared about was getting him into your pants. and it ended up happening.

a broken moan tears from your throat, garbled and needy in a way that makes his head spin, almost confusing him, “f-fuck.. you really want this, don’t you…” it takes everything in him to stay up straight and not crush you under his weight when all you do is stare back like he’s the only person in the world. he drops his chin to his chest, hearing the beat of his heart rumbling in his ears to the same rhythm of his pulsing cock. turned so sensitive from the weed and the tight squeeze of your cunt like you’re trying to milk him for all he’s worth.

in an effort to stave off his own orgasm he grabs at the fabric of the armrest and your waist like a lifeline, his eyes closed tight enough to see stars.

“gonna.. c-cum,” you really are out to kill him, he thinks.

“wait–” he gasps, if not a bit too late; the tight squelch around him a sign enough that you’ve already started tumbling over that peak, “just a bit.. l-longer,” with the amount of pre spilling from him already and how taut his balls get squished against your ass, he doesn’t know if the words are meant for you or himself.

after everything, tossing and turning the idea around in his head–the very idea that landed you here in the first place; he can’t help but want to savor it. at least a little, y’know? relish in the siren song that was your moans and whimpers, lose himself in the feel of your devilish pussy… but hell, he’s been holding on by a string for too long and it snapped the second he felt a gush of pure wet splash up against his pelvis.

his hips squish down into you, trapping you between the scratchy couch cushion and the sudden flood of hot cum in your walls. “fuckk–” he hisses close to your ear, the arm holding him up having finally given up and opting to rest on his forearm instead. he doesn’t dare to let up on grinding down into you, the feel of you constricting around him and the mixed release spilling out far too addicting. you clamp down so hard it’s like you’re trying to force him out, pulling out every last drop of the thick white his cock rubs into you.

his heavy pants feel almost sticky against your neck and collarbone, spreading tingles over your sensitive skin. as the tension dies down the chill of the room enters your senses, prickling at your skin to raise goosebumps, cooling your throat as you drink in the freshness.

breath finally finds you again–him as well, it seems–the labored rise and fall of your chest evened out. but you still hear the beat of your own heart, noticeably speeding up when he starts shifting above you.

even after just resting above your head your arms are still weak and trembling, like loose rubber bands. you find the strength in your shoulders though to finally pull them back down and the sweater sleeves around your wrists finally slide off. not knowing what else to do with your hands, you decide to take a risk and rest them on his arms.

he lifts himself back up but his head is still cast downwards. the long hair of his fringe covers his eyes, messy and riddled with stray hairs. his skin is flushed a deep pink, but that can easily be explained by anything that took place within the last 10 minutes. what otherwise can’t be is how he doesn’t even try and meet your eyes–but he also doesn’t move to take his softening hard-on out yet either. both of his hands grip into the cushions of the couch, the fabric straining and groaning under his palms like he’s holding himself back from something.

his entire mind has been jumbled into disarray–he’s not sure where to start with the scattered pieces floating around his head. you’ve effectively thrown a wrench in his plans. it was simple before; easy, foolproof even. but it turns out he was the fool the whole time. how was he to try and go through with finishing up quick, dumping you out back after having his way with you once like was written in his mental plans, head out with his bandmates and fuck off to who knows where next. how could he ignore the residual rhythmic spasming of your cunt, your thighs pressing meekly to his hips, how the slight inhale of breath you take before speaking to him sounds so similar to the ones you took while he filled you to the brim–

“c.. can we keep going? m’still, y’know…”

the good thing about plans is: when one fails, there’s always a plan b.

"Mrmmm.." Sebastian trills sound, face morphing into a pouty frown, cheek squishing as he presses his face against your hip- Your legs now properly closed, hindering his advances. His arms wrap around the thick of your bent legs, around the muscle of your thighs, snaking his fingers between them in a careful attempt of prying into the warm squish of flesh. You look at him expectantly, unmoving and unwilling to budge on the matter, waiting for Sebastian's words- Despite the subtle throb between your legs aching at all the ideas of what he could possibly want with you.

"Please.." It's all you get- Barely even phrased as a question, the statement layed out from his tongue with another nip of his teeth. His tail swished side to side, pupils blowing darker with excitement- some monologue running in his brain making him react in such a way.

"Please what? I can't understand you~" Your voice sings, a playful and scruffy pat to his hair coming next, messing up the fur of his ears. Sebastian scowls, more purrs rumbling from his chest, his touch becoming handsy - Gropey and squeezy, a gentle attempt to pry your thighs open. "You have to properly ask, y'know." You both knew he didn't actually- You being more than happy to let him take to you any other time; Fingers stuffing under the fine grip of your shorts waistband, bending at the hip over the Saloon pool table so his greedy cock could slide between your thighs- Heck, even the quick bouncy ride on his lap while Sam ran off to the bathroom during a session of Solarian Chronicles.

But this was fun, you were having fun. Teasing him, urging him to ask and plead- Yoba to beg, even.

"You smell nice.." His words are vague, actions telling you more than what he was dropping. Nice - A simple descriptor, sweet even, if it weren't for the way his nose presses against your skin, nuzzling in an attempt to get closer between your legs.

"Do I?" You tease, a hand coming to carefully scratch under his chin, fingers curling as if you were petting a real Kitten, yet instead of soft fur, you're met with the barest grain of his shaved face on his otherwise smooth and clear skin. It still earns you a tilt to his head, his melty reaction making your heart feel oozy with gooey affection. "How nice?" You were probably playing a dangerous game, poking back at Sebastian with a smugness stuck to your tone, prompting him with your teasing.

"So fucking nice.." He breaks a little with that hot taint of profanity, ears twitching, fingers groping a squeeze into your flesh. His tail swished with his words, flicking a rigid motion before its back to that lazy sway. “God- Gonna make me spell it out?”

“Hmmn.. I just think it’d be cute if you begged.” You bite into your lip, a feeble attempt at stifling your teasy smile.

He bristles at that, hairs standing on their ends, the fur of his tail and ears puffing up as a shiver surely crackles down his body. A sigh leaves his lips, breath trickling out until it forms into a soft pur, his head tilting up at you with a dazzly sweetness in his eyes-

-

“Please- Fuck.. hahh... Seb- Baby, please-!” Your own sobby pleads tumble from your throat, lips stuck in a perpetual frown, fingers tangled through Sebastian’s murky black hair as his tongue attacks the bud of your clit.

Sebastian's ears twitch with a mock flick of annoyance before he's coming up for air, sinking the dagger point of his canines right into the sensitive tendon connecting your thigh to your drooly cunt. You can’t help the whimpery noise that keens up from your throat, a high and shaky sound, stuttered and long as you breathe out. The hybrid dares to purr, nuzzling his nose into your bare skin as he marks you up, suckling a hot bruise, breaking those delicate blood vessels into a stingy bloom of a mark.

His pink tongue peeks out to soothe the area with licks - like it does much; the roughness of his tongue born up from his secondary feline species making your body tense with a sickly sweet sting, his lapping reminiscent of a milk-starved Kitten. Yoba, don't even start on the bar lodged in the flesh of the muscle, the metallic ball of a tongue piercing shining a soft glint in the low-light. Bites turn to licks, nibbling suckles agitated more with the grate of his kitten tongue, paired with those deep, sharp eyes of his, angled up to look at you with a glint of cockiness. 

“Sebbyyyy..” You give a whine, already missing the hot warmth of his lips wrapped around your clit, all cold and twitchy as he hums back at you, mocking a sobby noise of complaint as he sinks his teeth into the ever so sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leading away from where you needed him. He calls your name back to you, all muffled and slobbery, mimicking your drawn out cry before he suckles another mark - Pinchy, stingy, only making your poor pussy drool more of a mess. “Y-You’re mean.. Come backkk-” You whine at him, lips pouty when he shakes his head ‘No’, popping off of the fat of your thigh to admire the bruise he'd suckled into your skin. “Why?” You give a bratty huff, just wanting to feel the passions of Sebastian's tongue, how eager he was minutes before, rubbing up against you with his purring and nuzzles.

“I just think it’d be cute if you begged” He parroted that same sentence that had started it all, once spouted so cockily from your own now trembly, wobbly lips. The bar in his tongue knocks against his teeth as he plays and fiddles with it, those canines pointed with the beginnings of a cat-like grin, completely amused with his teasing. You sniffle a pout, fingers curling to give a tug to Sebastian's hair, pulling at his delicate ears, making his tail twitch and puff with a shudder. Another nip, one meaner and laced with a warning; “Words, Princess.” Another sharp flick of his eyes, hypocrisy dripping off of him, as if he hadn’t wordlessly poked at prodded around you to get you like this.

“I..” You breathe a frustrated sigh, a prick of tears starting to sting right at the inner corners of your eyes. You gasp into a swallow, a permanent pout tugging at your lips, “-Can’t think of words..”

“Nawh..” You know the sound is something completely faux, the tut of Sebastian’s tongue kissing his teeth just another mean thing to add on to the pile. He presses a warm kiss to the bloomed up hickey he’d bitten into your thigh, dragging his lips over the tender spot before he speaks, “Guess you should find some words then, hm?” His tail flicks, eyes flicking to a sickening slit before they bloom into those blown out, kitten-sweet excitable pupils.

You’re sure you’re one more tease away from a genuine sob; Something pitiful and entitled, so tired of Sebastian giving you a taste of your own medicine. God, you should give in- Plead and beg with the meany between your legs, play sweet and nice and ah! Another sink of his pointy teeth in your flesh, making you squirm and frown, molars digging into the inside of your cheek with frustration- 

“Please-” Your cry is short and wincy, “I need you, Sebby..” You baby at him, voice pitched higher as your pleadings begin.

An eyebrow raises, a soothing yet spiky lick lapped over the skin of your thighs, edging just a smidgen closer to your core. He hums a long ‘Mmhmm?’ of acknowledgement, urging you on with a slight grin twitching at his lips. 

“Really want you.. Need you back…” You glance down, biting into your bottom lip.

You’d at least earned something with the sweet tone of your begs - It was a start, Sebastian licking a fat, performative stripe up your cunt, gathering the creamed up slick that weeped from your hole. The action was near pornographic; Pretty and pink, covered in slick, that metal ball of his piercing coated and glinting with a sick mix of spit and cream - God, you twitch against him, clit jumping as the grate of his tongue brushes over the neglected bud, your fluttery entrance joining in, throbbing with a stingy pulse of arousal. His eyes are on you, behind thick lashes and his dark brow, those fangs of his glinting as they just poke from behind his upper lip. It was a taste; For both you and him, a teasing ease of what was to come and a milk-sweet treat he could savour as he smacks a kiss to your clit. 

He looks at you expectantly, those sharp pupils blown wide and black as his nose nuzzles at your mound, ghosts of his breath brushing warm kisses against your poor pussy. Your breath hitches right at the back of your throat, hiccuped a spike of adrenaline thrumming through your arteries, your lips dare to wobble, mouthing around the syllables of his name in a pitiful little “Sebby..”

“Hmnn?” He sounds almost nonchalant, as if he were completely unaware of the effects he had on you, playing into something cool and collective- Mean, that's what he is, a big meany messing with you, threading the beads of your desperation through threads of arousal that had your thighs twitching a flexing fidget. 

“Fuck- Sebby, please.. I need you, need you so bad I’m-” The pointed look he gives you tells you, you’re not quite close enough. Specifics were what he was after. 

Humiliation twists in your tummy as you string out a pathetic whine of pleas; “Need you b-back on my..” Your cheeks flush hot, unable to properly get your mouth around the dirty words he wanted you to speak - “Don’t wanna say it..”

“Nawhh.. But… You have to if you want me to eat you out, Silly.” His words roll off of his tongue easily, a scrunch to his nose and a twitching grin pulling at his lips as they speak against your warm skin. His tail sways behind him, cheeky and amused, a tell-tale sign that he was finding enjoyment out of all of this.

You try again.

“Please- Use your tongue on me.. ‘Wanna feel good- Tease me n’ make me all needy n’ squirmy I don't care-!” You suck in a breath, exhaling with a wobbly frown, “Just want your mouth- Mouth n’ fingers and whatever you wanna do t’me..-” You hum a long sound, all sweet and frustrated.

Ahh, Third times the charm, right?

“Sebby.. P-Please eat me out-” It burns to say it out loud. “I just- I need your tongue on my clit..” You can’t help the internal cringe, a tight squeeze vice-like and shuddery, something coursing a dangerous chemical of embarrassment-turned-arousal, sending a flinch to your dribbly pussy. “See? Need you.. Want your mouth on my c-cunt..” You’d surely lost it, that last ounce of sensibility that rested in your gut, forgotten with the way you part your legs wider, biting your teeth into one of your fingers to ease the nerves, your free hand coming down your tummy to barely brush above your heat, as if to direct Sebastian right where you wanted him.

Finally, he seemed satisfied, ears perking up on his head, through the moppy strands of sable-black swept hair, a pur rumbling from the depths of his throat before he gave you what you needed. He was practically pouncing on to your pussy, with his palms against your thighs going in for the attack – Once crescent eyes blown wide and ink-jet black, tail swishing in absolute satisfaction – That rough tongue of his laps messily against your folds, purposeful in movement, thrashing meanly against your clit-!

“Ahhn- Hahh, Seb-!” You can only cry out, muffled by your fingers as you hide your face, finding comfort in your knuckles pressed against your frowning lips. Your eyes flutter closed, a crease forming between your brows, a tight-knit scrunch of pleasure washing over your face accompanied by the hot sting of a blush flushing against your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose. Sebastian huffs a sloppy chuckle against your core, breath sucked back in with a slurpy lick through your folds.

“Hmnph.. C’mere-” Sebastian’s voice muffles, a grumble to his timbre that wasn’t truly something of frustration – Completely laced up with a mockingly hot purr of endearment. The comfort of your hands are yanked away, fingers threading through his own, all long and grabbable- Perfectly moulded to engulf and grab, urging your fingers to brush strands of hair up and out of the way of his eyes, of his tongue, showing off the bridge of his nose and thick, dark brows behind the mound of your cunt as he laps and feasts. Your fingers twitch a pull, tight against the roots of his hair, making the man let out another low purr, “S’ better- Hmmnh?” His tongue cuts up his words, lulling through his speech pattern as his affections continue. Ahh, you could see him now, relish in the view of him between your legs, strands of hair escaping your fingers to lace over his forehead, those sharp eyes right on you.

He lets the bead of his tongue stud jab into your clit, swirling around and around hoping that little metal ball glints with the light, sparkles with the mix of his saliva and the addicting juices of your cunt. His fingers massage and sink into your thighs, giving little stingy nail-tainted squishes as a reminder to Keep. Watching.

Watch the flutter of his tongue and nipping suckles he makes into your clit, look into that subtle swirl of blue in his eyes as he laps a long, strong lick on your cunt right before he musters up a hot glob of saliva to spit onto the twitchy bud of your clit. All bubbly and thick on his tongue as he lapped it right back up before you could start whining up your complaints again. You had begged enough for him, right? Spilled those filthy wants and desires out for him, dealing with the residual ache in your chest, all flushed from embarrassment – Fuck, could you even breathe? With that constant string of breathy whines that fall from your lips as his tongue abuses your cunt, thrashing and jamming meanly while those pointed canines carefully sink into your flesh as he suckles a mess.

He was practically making out with your pussy – Tongue filled kisses all swirly on your clit, venturing further to sink into the supple clench of your hole, feeling each and every twitch on his tongue and flex of your bud against his nose. He looked a mess – Spit and cream dribbling down his chin, smeared up on his nose, lips pursed and plump with use, face surely sticky with your essence- Ohh, but he didn't seem to care. Sebastian relished in your sticky-sweetness, indulging in your pretty scent, happy to make a mess of himself if it meant you were whining, tugging on his hair and petting at his ears, praising and hiccuping begs of “Don’t stop don’t stop-!” Fueling up his ego as he shakes his head against your cunt in indulgence. 

How could he stop now? Fucking the fat of his tongue against your weepy hole, lapping up all the cream you drooled up for him - All wet and mushy, the press of his tongue against your cunt earning up a string of slick and clicky noises, hot spit he can’t help but salivate up adding to the mess between your legs. His licks are rough, spiky in pleasure, moulded around the smooth relief of his piercing, the repetitive sensation bringing you closer and closer, nearer to the threat of your release, and he hadn’t even begun the abuse of his fingers-

It's easy to jam two deft fingers into your cunt with how dribbly-drooly you were for him, sweetly creamy like milk pooling around his knuckles, combined with his bubbly spit to make a filthy mess. Your fingers card through his hair to gain a new fistful of something to ground you, tugging the sensitive strands that laid by his silky ears, the fur tickling up against your wrist. Sebastian’s precision was a deadly thing – Knowing exactly where to curl the pads of his digits, hitting that sweetly spongy spot inside of you that had your hips craning, arching to meet with the suckle of his lips and the slow, fucking curls he makes in your cunt.

Your sweetness wraps around him, the ring of your stuffed hole twitching kisses against his knuckles, taught and squeezy with every fuck he makes. It only makes you dribble more for him, squelchy and wet, more of a mess for his tongue to mop up with a loud and obnoxious lapping suckle.

“Sebby- Seb, Seb- R-Right there- right there rightthereplease-!” You have to gasp to catch your breath, feeling the quick build of your threatening orgasm. Sebastian moans, his hot breath and warm purring doing wonders for your arousal. His eyes catch yours, seemingly just as desperate as you were, looking like a milk-drunk kitten who’d nearly had his filling, greedily smushing his face into your cunt, the tip of his nose crunching with the motion, fingers squelching in your wetness with a newfound fever.

“Ohhh~ M’cummin- cummingcummingcumming-! Seb, ohmygod!” You don't mean to slur your words but God-! Sebastian was just too good. 

Your hands clench in his hair, tugging the strands right at his scalp, thighs jerking with an aching hard twitch, snapping Sebastian into a snuggly trap as you finally let go. You squeeze on his fingers, pussy fluttering quick pulses as you cum, clit jumping against his tongue while he drags out his licks, coaxing you through the hot brunt of it all. Fuck, you makes a mess – A pretty and wet orgasm gushing against his rough tongue, enough to bring up a prick of tears at the corner of your eyes, accompanied by a silent plea barely piping up from your throat. Sebastian’s free hand soothes the outside of your thigh, carefully bending your leg at the knee to free himself all while he peppers sweetly soft kisses against the wet of your cunt.

“Hahh..S-Seb-” You mouth a silence swear, voice whining in your throat as he keeps playing even through your high – Milky-wet kisses pressed into your twitchy core, a string of dribble and slick connecting his plump and pinkish lips to your folds, that rough tongue of his licking up the mess, the ball of his piercing glinting as he licks his lips clean. The man chuckles soft, hearts in his eyes as he looks up at you, more and more of those teasy sweet kisses landing around; To your mound, inner thigh, that sensitive tendon he’d bitten mean kisses into, right against the soft of your tummy. He was nuzzling like a cat, tail swaying in a happy manner, ears folding around the clumsy pats you make to them, hums purring up his throat as he slinkily climbs up.

The rough denim of his dark-washed jeans presses against your wetness, surely forming a decent patch of slick and spit into the fabric, your breath hitches, chin tilting up as Sebastian nuzzles his nose right below your ear;

“Beg for more?” You shiver, and he huffs a breathy chuckle. 

Who were you to deny him?

•··········•··········˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖··········•··········• Number 2 for my prompt event ^^ I struggle a bit with Sebby, I hope my next ones come out way sooner!!

Seb draws the scenario card and reads it out loud. He asks you what character you want to be: the wizard, healer, or warrior. You pick the healer.

“I think your hands can heal me,” Sam laughs as he says it—a pitchy noise that cracks with nerves. Seb rolls his eyes.

Sprawling his legs out under the table, Sam takes up as much space as possible. His shoe touches yours. A pressure blooms in your ribcage, like petals holding rain.

“Nothing can cure you, Samson.” Thoughtful, you pause. “You’re hopeless.” Covering his heart with his hand, Sam frowns in a way that resembles a smile.

Seb glances at you, and your eyes almost meet, but he averts his gaze to the cardboard map lying on the table.

“That wasn’t very healing of you,” Sam says with mock sadness. You give his shoe a gentle kick. He grins, and the two of you stare at each other. Like frantic Morse code, your heart beats.

“Are we going to play or not?” Seb grumbles. His usual nonchalance warped by something unplaceable.

Have you upset Seb? He’s been quiet at times but never like this. Maybe it’s because Abby didn’t show? She’s more familiar with Solarion Chronicles than you. Does he think you’ll ruin the game?

“Sorry,” you say, looking directly at Seb’s steely eyes. Uncomfortable, you lightly pinch the fingertips of your left hand with your right hand. “I know I’m not as good as Abby, but I’ll do my best.” Confusion weighs Seb’s shoulders and brows down, and he opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t get the chance to.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” An uncharacteristic tinge of authority nests in Sam’s words. He stands up and puts his hand over both of yours. His hand is warm and dotted with calluses. You stop fidgeting.

“Seb just gets jealous when pretty women pay attention to me,” Sam says, shrugging as he pulls his hand away. Heat prickles your cheeks. You lower your eyes and they’re drawn, again, to Sam’s glaring blue can of cola. Using two fingers, he pushes the cola towards you. “Thirsty?” You’re not, but you nod. It’s easier than explaining how you’re feeling. “I’ve got to take a leak—don’t let Seb scare you off while I’m gone.” Seb scowls. Sam disappears behind the bathroom door.

You take a small sip of Joja cola, and the signature chemical taste fizzes in your mouth. You set the can back down on the table.

“You do know that I like you?” Seb says. His voice is deeper and fuller than usual. You choke on your mouthful of soda. Coughing—once, twice—eyes watery, you swallow.

“I like you too.” Because of course you do. You and Seb are friends. And if the universe could stop making you do embarrassing shit in front of him (even if it’s just for tonight) that’d be great. Seb chuckles. It’s a low, gravelly sound your ears cling to.

“I don’t think you understand—“

Sam reappears and interrupts Seb.

“Let’s get started,” Sam says, sinking into his seat until his shoe touches yours.

Is Seb trying to tell you he has a crush on you?

Seb’s mood sours the more Sam pretends to flirt with you. But wouldn’t Seb know better than anyone that Sam is only joking? Unless Sam’s not joking.

Seb starts the campaign. Lost in thought, you barely follow along.

Sam touches your wrist, and a spill of warmth floods your body. Under the table, your shoes are still pressed together.

“It’s your turn, babe,” Sam says. Desire beats in his words like a pulse. Seb scoffs. You take your turn.

Seb’s jaw tightens; he grinds his teeth to ease the tension writhing inside him. He’d give just about anything for a cigarette right now. If he leaves, he’s pretty sure by the time he gets back you’ll be sitting on Sam’s lap.

Earlier that spring, you had moved to town. Practically every Friday night you hung out with Abby, Sam, and Seb at the local bar. Seb knew he needed to tell Sam about his feelings for you when Sam’s gaze started lingering too often.

A few weeks ago, at the Spirit’s Eve festival, Sam and Seb stood next to a large iron cage. Inside it, two skeletons paced. Through the silver bars, Seb saw you chatting with Caroline. He told Sam he had a thing for you, and Sam smiled. The betrayal stings like alcohol on a wound.

Then there were the drunken nights when he and Sam frantically explored each other’s bodies. Followed by mornings when the salt of Sam’s skin still lingered on Seb’s tongue, and Sam snubbed his questions by saying, “There’s nothing to talk about,” and, “You worry too much.” And it kept happening.

Does Sam expect Seb not to worry about his friend flirting with his crush? Is he supposed to clap and cheer when Sam starts screwing you too?

Seb has felt lonely before, but never this alone.

Thoughts like these sink Seb’s mood as the three of you continue to play Solarion Chronicles.

“Most heroes are rewarded with a kiss,” Sam says after defeating the boss.

“Give it a rest,” Seb seethes. “Can’t you see how uncomfortable she is?”

“Jealous?” Sam laughs—this time there’s no uncertain lilt to it. Only genuine amusement. He slides his palm across the table until his fingers graze Seb’s hand. Seb recoils and grips the smooth edge of the table with both hands.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Sam asks Seb. The depth of Sam’s eyes is as still and dark as a lake at night.

Seb’s grip tightens and the peaks of his knuckles turn white. The night in Sam’s eyes passes. They glitter like the sun. “Or,” Sam pauses. His hand still reaches across the table for Seb as he looks at you. “Maybe he’d like a kiss from you?”

Shame singes Seb’s cheeks.

“Would you like that?” Sam adds.

Seb wants to scream at Sam. To know exactly what the fuck Sam thinks he’s doing.

“I would,” you say. Your voice so soft and sweet, Seb thinks he imagined it. His anger twists into knots of nervousness.

“You don’t have to—“ Seb starts.

“But I want to.”

“Oh?” Sam’s pink mouth forms a circle of mock surprise. “Did you hear that? She wants to.” He studies Seb’s face—a kaleidoscope of surprise, fear, and lingering anger.

He hopes Seb’s anger will fade when he realizes all of this—everything Sam has done—has been for him. A gift for Seb’s birthday, only two days away. There are times he wishes his lover wasn’t so serious. But the whole brooding thing? Sam can’t deny its appeal.

You stand. Have you thought about kissing Seb? Sure, along with other daydreams you mentally regarded as: Things that will never happen.

Seb stands and moves toward you. He cups the side of your neck with one hand, and places the other on your waist. The cologne he spritzed on himself so you wouldn’t think he smells like tobacco is warm and spicy. His breath brushes your lips and the smell of mint fills your nose.

He promised himself he’d walk you home tonight and tell you how he feels. Wanting to be ready for anything that might happen next, he rinsed with mouthwash three times and had a fifteen-minute debate with himself about the likelihood of you liking pubic hair—which resulted in him shaving his balls because he’d rather be safe than sorry.

Savoring the way your body leans into his touch, Seb stands still. His heart somersaults.

For a moment he lets his imagination wander—his mouth on your breast, your pussy wet and begging for his cock. Excited, he overcomes the small space separating him from all the things he wants, and kisses you. The kiss is a desperate plea that screams please like this. Please like me. His fingers on your neck curl. A stab of insecurity twists in his chest and he breaks the kiss.

“Sorry if I taste like cigs,” Seb says with an uneasy smirk. He’s smitten, but aware the moment will pass. Things can change.

You lick the top of your bottom lip. The taste of Seb lingers there.

“I like the way you taste,” you whisper to him. His smirk widens. You kiss him again.

Sam stands and clears his throat.

“Do you want to be with both of us?” Sam asks you with the same cool casualness he’d use while asking someone if they’d like a glass of water. Surprised, you stare at Sam and let the question settle in your mind.

At first, the thought of Sam wanting to share you irritates Seb. But then something deeper, more primal stirs inside him—the image of Sam’s face between your thighs, of how he and Sam could take care of you. Take care of each other.

Seb wants this. Sam knows it. Has always known.

You do want them both, but will it make things complicated between Seb and Sam? Seb’s been upset tonight.

“Do you want to?” you ask Seb while touching his cheek. A flush of pink blooms over the tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks.

The finality of telling you he wants this causes a lump to form in his throat. Seb swallows hard. He doesn’t want you to do this for him. And definitely not for Sam. Seb’s always wanted to know if you’ve thought of him with your hand nestled between your thighs. Touching parts of yourself he’d give anything to feel on his mouth or with his hands. He won’t ask because Sam’s here. And the worst answer isn’t no—it’s both.

“Yes,” he tells you. He moves his thumb back and forth, petting your jawline with the pad of his thumb. He watches you search his face. You grin like you’ve found what you’re looking for.

“Yes,” you say to Sam. Sam moves toward you. When he’s close, he gently grabs your chin, guiding you to him. Seb’s hand falls from your neck. Sam kisses you. Seb hopes this isn’t a mistake.

Sam unfolds Seb’s couch into a full-sized bed while your lips follow the hypnotic rhythm of Seb’s mouth. Seb undresses you slowly. Every new inch of skin that appears in front of him, he caresses and kisses in such a tender way you can’t help but be flattered. Any fear you felt at first, at the thought of being naked in front of both Seb and Sam, has vanished.

You and Seb are naked when Sam finishes setting up the pull-out couch, tossing a couple of pillows from Seb’s bed on top of it.

Seb’s hard dick presses against your thigh as he drags his bottom lip down your neck, toward your breasts. He stops to kiss your collarbone, his velvet tongue teasing your skin.

Sam’s hand settles on your hip, drawing you into him. The press of Seb’s erection disappears. Sam wraps both his arms around you and kisses you, his tongue stroking yours as he squeezes your ass with both hands before lifting your legs to his waist.

Suspended in his arms, Sam’s warm body slides against yours. A thrum of excitement hums under your skin.

Seb sits at the top of the sofa bed, leaning against a pillow. Bent over him, you hold his dick in your hand and stare down at the flushed tip peeking from your fist. A bead of precum slips free, sinking onto the skin between your thumb and index finger.

You lower your head and lick it away, swallowing before dragging your tongue along your lips. Then you circle the head slowly with your tongue, teasing until he moans and shifts beneath you.

With your ass in the air, Sam slips his fingers between your thighs, exploring your wet folds.

You take Seb in your mouth, inch by inch. Your tongue traces along his shaft as he sinks deeper inside you.

Sam’s tongue presses flat against your clit. You moan around Seb, the vibration pulling broken sounds from his throat.

You lift your head just enough to stroke him, then take him back in, moving slowly at first before finding a steady rhythm.

“Is that what you like, Seb?” Sam murmurs, breath heavy. “Her pretty little throat?”

Seb answers with a sharp twitch against your tongue.

You straddle Seb’s naked lap. Holding his shaft, you guide him into your pussy. Seb bullies your nipple, flicking and pinching it. A hot tingle singes in your lower stomach.

Seb sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth when you start bouncing on his cock.

“Slow,” Seb says, putting his hands on your hips and guiding them to grind on his dick pulsating inside of you. Your dissatisfied whine shivers through the air. You want it faster, harder. Mouth parted, tongue first, Seb kisses you.

Understimulated, you reach out and feel the smooth, pale skin of Sam’s thigh, then the damp blond curls at his groin, and finally his cock, slick with lube. You squeeze him and he slips from your hand. Something shifts in Sam’s hips that you don’t understand. You stop riding Seb and look over at him.

Sam is sprawled beside you and Seb, fingers working inside himself. His chest is flushed and heaving, his hard cock resting against his stomach. He grins and takes your hand in his free one, guiding it back to him. With his hand over yours, he jerks himself off using your grip.

“Look at me,” Seb snaps.

You turn away from Sam, startled by the sharpness in Seb’s face. It confuses you, but before you can ask anything, he kisses you. The kiss is demanding—a far cry from the tenderness before. His grip pins your hips in place as he moves inside you, rough and fast. Your hand slips free of Sam. You cling to Seb’s shoulders while he drives you against him.

“You like that,” Sam says. “I knew you would.”

Seb stops. He presses a reverent kiss to your mouth and gently guides you off his lap, setting you aside. You don’t understand what it means, but his hands are careful, almost tender, as if he’s trying to say something without words.

He straightens slowly, eyes never leaving Sam.

The room feels quieter. Taut.

Sam tilts his head, a faint smile playing at his mouth, like he already knows what’s coming.

Seb steps closer.

They circle each other once—close enough that their knees brush, that their breath mingles. Sam says nothing.

Something dark and charged passes through Seb’s expression. Seb exhales once, sharp and controlled.

Then he grabs him.

They fall back onto the bed together, bodies colliding, skin sliding against skin. The sheet rustles beneath them as they grapple, more heat than anger in the way they move.

Seb pins Sam down, gripping his wrists like restraints.

For a heartbeat, you’re unsure—

until Sam grins.

Then Seb leans down and kisses him.

Sam spreads his legs. Seb settles between them. With one smooth thrust he pushes inside him. Sam grips the sheets, arching, a sound breaking from his throat. He turns his face to the side, meeting your eyes. You trace the line of his jaw, the shine of his hair as it shifts with every movement of Seb’s hips.

“Sit on my face,” Sam says.

You straddle him, hovering over his mouth.

Seb’s brow is drawn tight as he focuses on the place where their bodies join, hands gripping Sam’s knees as he moves.

Sam’s tongue finds you, circling, slow and deliberate. You squirm and sigh at the sensation. He opens his mouth and draws you closer, working patiently until your voice breaks loose from you.

Your hands collapse against his chest. Your breathing turns uneven. The tension builds, tightens, claws through you—until it shatters, leaving you weightless as you come against his mouth.

Satisfied, the three of you lie on your backs, catching your breath. Seb pants the hardest.

Sam thinks of Abby’s text—telling him she isn’t coming because she’s not going to watch Sam and Seb fight over you. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, bright and quiet, like a banner being raised at a celebration.

If only she knew.

He considers telling her. Seb would probably be furious if he did.

Sam glances at Seb and catches the look in his eyes—clouded with questions he wants answered, with promises he wants made.

But Sam doesn’t have answers.

And he isn’t ready to make promises.

What if you knew he was lying here thinking of you this way? He pinches his eyes shut. The mental image of his fingers seeking your pleasure both excites and torments him. Why can’t he be normal about you?

He slides his hand beneath the black waffle blanket and reaches for his hard-on. You sigh in your sleep—the sound takes the shape of a moan, and the ache between his thighs pulses. Just being this close to you could get him off. And afterward, maybe he can get some rest.

For a moment, he considers going to the bathroom. But the sound of him moving around might wake someone. He doesn’t feel great about masturbating in a room with his friends. But they’re asleep. And if he’s going to get any sleep, he has to do something to make it stop.

And if he’s completely honest with himself, part of him doesn’t want to be any farther from you than he has to be.

You spend so much time working on your farm (and really, he finds your dedication inspiring), but he doesn’t get to see you as often as he’d like. When he does see you, he tries to make the most of it. Even if most of that time is spent with you, Sam, and Abby together. He wonders if Sam and Abby know how he feels about you. Do they realize how hard it is to share what little time he has with you?

He’s imagined ways the two of you could be alone. He could visit you, ask if you need help with the farm. You’d answer the door wearing barely anything.

The palm of his hand hugs his warm shaft. A rush of pleasure spreads through him.

He fantasizes about you pulling him inside, your eyes bright with the same want he feels. You’d kiss him. Frantically undress him. Stand on your knees.

His hand moves like his breath—jerky and frantic. Desperate for relief. He’s so close—

“Sebastian?” you whisper.

He hears your voice and thinks he’s imagined it. You’re calling out to him with that perfect, wet mouth. His hand moves faster.

“Seb?” you say, a little louder than a whisper.

Clearer.

He freezes. The tips of his ears burn red. He pulls his hand away.

The couch cushions rustle. A shadow moves toward him.

Your face hovers over his.

“Are you,” you murmur, voice barely perceptible, “jacking off?”

“No,” he blurts, staring at you, dazed. This is everything he wants. Just not like this.

You move. He feels your body heat at his side. You lie beside him on the floor, your head propped up by your hand. The whites of your eyes fixed on him as you study his face. He mimics your position. Your eyes meet.

“I want to help,” you tell him.

It’s hard not to notice how his face warms when you smile. How flustered he gets when he talks to you. When you asked Sam and Abby if Sebastian had a crush on you, they giggled. Said it took you long enough to notice. Now they call you Sherlock whenever Sebastian is out of hearing range.

He’s been shy about his feelings. It was sweet at first. Now you’re tired of waiting for him to make the first move. Another year of tension-filled glances, finger-brushing, and excuses to sit close to you is going to drive you insane.

“Sure,” he says after a moment.

This has to be a dream, he thinks. But it can’t be. The floor is too hard. Too familiar.

Maybe you’re joking. That has to be it.

He should say something. Now.

He tells himself he’s ruining everything.

“I mean it though—you know—if you want to,” you say. The words catch in your throat. You hold his gaze.

You’re tired of pretending you’re just friends.

When you first met Sebastian, it was hard to believe he cared about much of anything. At first he seemed aloof—cold, even. Later you saw him more clearly. The small smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth when he’s happy. The way he looks after Sam and Abby. The way he ends up sitting a little closer to you than anyone else.

His fingertips brush your cheekbone. His heart thumps loud, like drunken footsteps. He waits to see if you’ll pull away. You don’t. For a moment, neither of you move.

He leans toward you.

Are you offering him a handjob? Or is this a joke? He searches your face—it’s earnest, a little embarrassed. His chest feels heavy. What if you think this is just a horny, meaningless moment?

Your lips touch. Soft. Careful. Your thumb traces his jawline. The world around him blurs. All he can feel is your warmth.

Slowly, the kiss breaks.

You lie face to face, eyes locked. He touches your face, tracing the curve of your cheekbone to your ear before his hand drifts down to your mouth. His finger rests on the bow of your top lip. His heart pounds in his chest, loud and unsteady, like it might give everything away.

You kiss his finger. A soft shiver passes through him. Before he can overthink, he kisses you again. Time slows, like the two of you are sealed inside a snow globe.

You slip your hand beneath the blanket covering him, and curl your hand around his shaft. He breaks the kiss. A sharp breath escapes him, turning into a small gasp.

“Is this ok?” you whisper, your lips grazing the shell of his ear. His stomach flips softly.

“Y—yeah,” he says, breath unsteady. He rolls onto his back, looking up at you. You lean closer and press a soft kiss to his cheek. He turns his head, kissing you back like it’s all he’s ever wanted. The tip of his tongue grazes your bottom lip—asking for more but not expecting it. You part your lips and let go of his shaft, running your fingers lightly over his groin. A moan slips from him before he can stop it, muffled into a grunt.

He wants to make the sounds that would tell you how much he’s loving this. But with Sam and Abby asleep on his bed, he holds them back. You’re touching him, and he can’t tell you how he feels. Even like this, being with you feels incredible. Almost fated.

He lowers his chin to kiss your neck. At first his kisses are soft, like you might break under the weight of what he feels. Soon he wants more. They grow messier—hungry. His hand closes around the back of your neck as he pulls you closer, your skin like silk against his tongue.

He tries to hold onto the memory of every soft sound you make, but the moment moves too quickly. All he wants now is to be fully present—here, with you. So he lets go of his restraint and rests his hands at your hips, guiding you on top of him. Your hand slips away as you settle over his thighs. For a moment, all he can think about is how close you are.

You lean forward, and the two of you fall into a slow dance with your tongues, parting only long enough to steal short breaths before coming together again. He slips his hand under your shirt and rests it on the bare skin above the elastic band of your pajama shorts. His thumb traces slow patterns there. The warmth of your skin makes his breath catch.

A quiet, intense ache rises inside you. He hitches his thumb on the band of your shorts. Pauses. Tugs at it, like he’s deciding something. You decide for him. Guide his hand into your shorts. You let go.

His hand stills. He feels the softness of your underwear. Your warm wetness against his palm. He unfurls his fingers, touching as much of you as he can. His own body hot and throbbing. He forces himself to move slowly, carefully. The lace at the edge of your underwear tickles his fingertips. He hooks a finger under the fabric and eases it to the side.

More than anything he wants to make you happy. To be the one you think of when you want to be touched. Fuck. He hopes he gets this right.

At first his fingers move awkwardly. Then he notices what makes your legs shake—and focuses there.

With your face buried in the curve of his neck, small broken sounds escape you, swallowed against his skin. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt. Pleasure flickers inside you, growing until it engulfs your body in heat, then loosens its grip like a fist slowly unclenching.

For a moment you can only breathe. His hand drifts slowly along your back. He tries not to think about how easily this could fall apart.

You shift your weight until your face hovers above his lap. He lifts his hips to help as you slide his pants down his thighs.

The sight of you there fills him with a quiet reverence.

Your hand hugs his shaft. You lower your head. His breath pools slowly in his lungs. The warm, wet caress of your mouth on the tip. Then slowly—lower. His toes curl. He pulls the pillow from beneath his head and presses his face into it, determined not to make a sound that might wake anyone.

You move faster.

He’s not even sure what you’re doing anymore, only that it feels incredible. His back arches slightly. A muffled sound caught in the pillow. The feeling builds too fast.

His body trembles as he comes inside your mouth.

You rest your head on his chest. His hand drifts into your hair without thinking. He closes his eyes, a lightness filling his chest. All the restlessness he felt before, gone.

The soft chorus of insects outside fills the room. The quiet of night has always made more sense to him than the noise of the day. His eyelids grow heavy.

There’s still so much he wants to say to you, but it will have to wait until tomorrow.

For now, it’s enough that you’re here. Your weight warm and steady against him. Your breathing slow where your cheek rests over his heart.

Earlier he had been so careful. Holding everything back.

Now he lets himself sink into the quiet of it.

Something inside him settles, like a knot finally loosening.

For a long time he’d convinced himself that wanting this was pointless. That he’d ruin it somehow. That you’d wake up one day and see him the way everyone else does.

You’re still here. Some part of him still can’t quite believe it.

Tomorrow he’ll find the words.

Tonight, he lets himself believe this moment is real.

And for the first time all evening, Sebastian lets himself drift.

Your breathing settles into the rhythm of his heartbeat.

For once, sleep comes easily.

“thanks, hope it wasn’t our last.”

just as you were about to chuckle and respond saying it was just the beginning, that the goblin destroyer were just beginning their ride to glory, you felt his hand snake around your waist. he held you, a little taken aback, but mostly just blushing with how forward it was for his usual self. different. kind of like the way he swayed you with him, kind of to the rhythm of the current song.

“seb…” you didn’t say it loud enough for him to hear, too caught by surprise to be louder as your hips moved with his, slightly shifting so he stood behind you. his fingers were splayed over your hips and you swore you could feel the warmth of his hand even through the jeans. sebastian’s chin rested against your temple and his other hand found its way to your other hip, now holding you against him a little firmer, with a little more confidence.

you cursed when the song ended, expecting him to release you, but his hands stayed put.

as the applause roared around you and the band on stage prepared to do another song, sebastian’s breath tickled your ear and you could hear him better.

“wanna come over later?”

“o-over?” you cursed at yourself, realising what he had meant only after you’d already asked.

“yeah, to my place.”

your heart was beating through your throat, thumping relentlessly as you swallowed.

“oh come on,” sebastian let out a chuckle against the side of your head, “did i imagine you eye-fucking me while i was on the stage?”

your heart sped up, you didn’t think you'd been that obvious, though you could hardly remember anything from their set that wasn’t the way sebastian had flicked his hair out of the way, the shape of his focused brows… and the movement of his hands on the keyboard, the slender, deft digits caressing the keys with skill and passion—

“well?” his hands tightened on your hips, pulling you against him a liiittle tighter, it was almost embarrassing how much you enjoyed feeling him harden against your ass.

“when later?” your breath caught in your throat and you felt his chest move as he laughed.

“impatient?”

“let’s go now” you turned around, spinning out of his hold and facing him, your blushing face be damned.

you must have caught him off guard, being so eager, but damn it he was right. you had been staring at him the entire night. the entire season, actually. ever since you had first spoken to him. without another word he pulled you towards the exit, where he’d parked the motorbike. before you’d thought it was a little pretentious of him to forgo taking the bus with the rest of the crew, but now you were grateful for it. you just hoped sam wouldn’t freak out when he discovered you gone…

the ride was quick and refreshing, after the stupid heat at the venue you welcomed the whipping wind with a grin on your face. you could hardly control your movements as sebastian parked and brought the bike into his garage, fumbling with the keys as he let you in. soon enough you were dashing down the stairs to his bedroom. you weren’t unfamiliar with his bedroom, having visited quite a few times now. you’d brought him random minerals you had found at the mines, you'd come over to play solarion chronicles, or just to hang out on the couch and read his comics while he worked. but now you saw it in a different light, or lack thereof.

in full, promising darkness, you could hardly make out the shape of his bed when he spun you around and pressed you against the door. his lips parted yours and you let him press you between the hardwood door and his warm body, the heat pulsing between you made nearly unbearable. so it was no surprise that sebastian reached down to the hem of your top, quickly sliding it up and off your body over your raised arms, barely breaking that searing kiss. you’d have been perfectly happy staying against the door, had he not spun you around and dragged you to the bed. as you sat down on the edge, searching for a safe path blindly, he reached to the side and turned on the bedside lamp. it cast a gentle glow onto both your faces, helping you in the mission of getting him out of that hoodie. now topless, he crawled over your body as you lay back on top of the slightly crumpled sheets. 

the pillow your head rested on smelled of him and you briefly imagined what it would be like waking up on that same pillow to the sight of his sleeping face. the face whose gaze was currently hungrily devouring your entire form, wondering where he was going to start unwrapping what was left of your clothes.

suddenly, those same deft fingers you had watched dance along the keys on stage were on your jeans, unbuttoning them and untying the flannel shirt that was tied around your waist. lifting your hips, you helped out by shimmying out of the offending clothes before undoing his jeans, tugging on them so he would hurry up. you didn’t want to wait anymore, but his pace was teasing. it was building tension so high you could hardly fit more of it into your throat before having to let out an impatient huff. he caught the sound of it and smirked, yoba it was a sinful curve that made you tug on his jeans harder. sebastian’s hand knocked your fingers off his jeans paired with a click of his tongue. he was dead set on doing it himself, torturing you with his slow movements. finally, he was left only in his boxers, having slid off his jeans along with his shoes and yours. there was a little wet patch on his boxers, right where his leaking tip pressed against them, achingly hard, constricted, and begging for air.

he caught you looking down his chest, stomach, that little patch of dark hair trailing underneath the waistband of his boxers, and finally settling your gaze on the perfect outline of his cock. you smirked ever so slightly, entertained by the show of neediness in his boxers. sebastian only scoffed, grabbing your knee and moving it to the side to spread your legs wider.

“you’re no better, you know?” he teased, lowering his head to ghost his lips over yours while the hand not holding your leg trailed up your inner thigh, settling on the wet patch of your own. right on the sweet little panties you had innocently picked out after stepping out of the shower today, ready to go see your friends’ first ever gig. poor past you had no idea those same panties would be rubbed in this way hours later, that they’d be pushed between your already wet folds by sebastian’s slender finger as he got them wetter, gliding up and down to collect yuor slick on them.

the way sebastian trailed that finger up and down your wet slit made for gently stimulation, coaxing slow, drawn out moans from your lips only to be caught in his mouth as he brought them down to kiss you again. he swallowed every single needy sound, fueling them more and more as he pressed a little firmer against your clothed clit. you reached up into his hair, tangling your fingers into those strands that he had always flicked away from his eyes, always fussed with despite the fact that they were obviously covering his face on purpose. his hand tightened its grip on your leg when you tugged on his hair, his breath vibrated in your mouth. this is it, you thought, this is how i break you.

almost as if he sensed your feeling of victory over his composure, he pulled away from the kiss and stopped rubbing your pussy to wipe the string of saliva that connected your lips. his self-control didn’t last long, for he immediately continued kissing, only not your lips, leaving them to let out small gasps and huffs of pleasure while you were still holding onto his hair and making yourself believe you were guiding him at all. sebastian’s lips grazed your skin as he trailed them down to your breasts, slowly taking your bra off by sliding his hands under your back to unbuckle it surprisingly skillfully. one nipple soon found its way into his mouth, being warmed by his breath and toyed with his tongue, while the other was under gentle care of his thumb and index finger. 

the way he played your body like his damn instrument had you lifting your hips up, searching for any kind of friction, anything to help you relieve some of the pressure building in your abdomen. it was thrumming, loud and violent in your body, but he took his damn time. this is it, you thought, this is how you break me. it seemed to amuse him greatly, your blatant want and inability to get satisfied quickly. he let out deep chuckles against your nipple, popping it out of his lips with a wet sound before he could continue down your body over the tingling skin, leaving fiery patches as he kissed and bit your flesh. both his hands were finally on your body, holding your hips down and preventing you from bucking them upwards, though not for lack of trying. you struggled against his grip, desperate for more while he seemingly found immense enjoyment in watching you unravel on his bed.

you kept tugging on his hair, kept making him gasp against your warming skin while he made his way to where he would inevitably stop just to piss you off. those eyes lifted and stared right into your soul, looked at your pitiful expression, lips parted, eyes glossy, skin so flushed. leaving one last kiss right under your navel, he had some mercy on you. his lips parted and pressed against your clothed pussy, his tongue ran up and down the already wet garment, slicking it with his saliva more, sucking against it and humming to vibrate your needy skin. still, he wouldn’t let you lift your hips, still he held you down against the bed, prolonging your efforts at grinding your cunt on his face.

“s-so meaaaan" you whined out, tugging on his hair to try and pull him closer against you, curling your toes in frustration.

“you haven’t seen mean yet,” he vibrated the air between his wet lips and your, unfortunately clothed, pussy, “i can be worse.”

the smirk he wore had you groaning in frustration, but it clearly wouldn’t help you get what you wanted. he wanted to play dirty, to have you on edge until you pleaded for him, to reduce you to a puddle that he could lap up with that warm tongue.

“but you’re right, it’s not fair.” sebastian’s fingers hooked under your panties and he slid them down. you were so damn relieved that your breathing got faster, you moaned at the very feeling of air on those wet folds that he dove right into. parting them with his tongue, he pressed it flat against your clit, gently licking up and down and releasing your hips. as soon as his hands left your body, you lifted yourself off the bed, grinding up into his face, tugging his hair, whining, moaning, cursing. it was the sweet release that you’d been waiting for.

somehow, he let you use his mouth, he willingly went along with your movements, at the same time taking his boxers off. now, he was matching the pace of your hips against his face with the movement of his own hips against the bed. suddenly, just as your whimpers got louder, as your fingers pulled on his hair tighter, he closed his mouth around your pulsating clit and sucked harder. that simple action coaxed a pretty whine from your pouty lips as you came, thighs shaking around his head, pressing together dangerously as he let you squeeze his face with them. using his tongue, sebastian led you through the orgasm, lapping up all your juices carefully, making sure not to spill anything.

fuck, the wet noises of his mouth mixed with the moans from yours caused your head to spin. you could just lie there like that for the next few hours, had you not wanted to feel him inside of you. he was the same, for with another, almost gentle, kiss to your pussy he crawled over to kiss you on the mouth, slipping his tongue to glide against yours, letting you taste yourself on his lips. you pulled him closer, drinking in the mix of his saliva and your juices, pulling his entire body against yours and wrapping a leg around his waist, grinding up to feel his hardened cock grind against your sopping cunt.

“i’m feelin’ mean again,” he whispered against your lips, breathing into them before once again kissing hungrily, “wasn’t done making you beg.”

in response, you whined and pulled his body closer, desperately trying to grab onto him to not let him pull away and torture you again. sebastian chuckled, lifting his torso up despite the nails that you dragged down his back, and settled between your thighs once again. instead of keeping the distance from you, he spread your legs again, holding them apart as he got closer, resting his cock between your folds. he started to move, grazing your clit with the underside of his shaft, making you lift your hips with every thrust, but in vain, as you got no friction from it. this time it wasn’t just your noises that filled the room. despite his own initiative to keep the teasing up, to not actually give you any relief, he was moaning as well. he let out a little whimper, instantly scrunching his face in embarrassment, probably hoping you hadn’t heard it. oh, but you heard it.

and it spurred you on to angle your hips better.

“fuck, this wasn’t supposed t–”

“wha– what, your little p-plan not working, hm?” you teased him, finally donning a smirk on your face as he looked like it was getting harder keeping himself from just fucking you like he meant it.

“brat” he huffed out, releasing one of your legs to lead his hard cock to your entrance, gently poking into it.

sebastian hissed as his tip entered you, drawing a higher pitched moan out of your lips. instantly, the bastard pulled out, leaving you empty and wanting.

“looks like i’ve got a few more tricks, huh?” he was way too happy with himself, teasing your dripping cunt by only putting his damn pretty tip in and taking it out, smearing it with your wetness, spreading it down to his shaft.

“you’re sooo–”

“say please.” he interrupted you, cutting off the attempt at insulting him.

you closed your mouth, furrowing your brow as he pressed his tip against you again. “say please and i’ll stop pulling out.”

it was a no-brainer, but your proud mind could hardly just accept the defeat. you wanted to make him fold, but here you were, spread out, teased, desperate for him to stuff you full and fuck you like you’d never felt it before.

“h-huh?” playing dumb only made him roll his eyes and bring his hand down onto your clit, gently tapping it as if making sure you were aware of your naked state.

“don’t you huh me, say please,” he rubbed your clit so slowly it was almost painful, “or the tip is all you get.”

you gritted your teeth and took a deep breath before swallowing your defiance and in your best, sweetest voice pleaded with him.

“pleeease?”

“please what?” damn bastard wanted you to beg and grovel, his smirk kept growing, kept getting more annoying, yet so damn attractive.

“please, sebastian, fuck me… properly, ‘wanna feel you all inside me, wanna… wanna cum on your dick, please.”

your pouting must have worked, because he leaned down to kiss that pout before spreading your thighs again, looking down at the needy blushed cunt spread open before him, and pushed inside again. he groaned and it was the most magnificent sound you’d heard. his hips bucked ever so slightly against you, but he didn’t go much further inside. barely more than the blasted tip again. once you started whining, he brought his hand down on your clit again.

“i said i wouldn’t pull out, didn’t i? damn impatient brat.” he clicked his tongue, though under all that bravado he was still trying to keep it together, his eyes betrayed it. “keep those legs open for me.”

you obeyed him, keeping your thighs comfortably open so he could keep moving between them. once he stopped breathing so deeply, his hips moved slightly forward, giving youa little more, but not quite what you wanted. before you could let out a whine, he let a drop of saliva roll off his tongue and land on your clit. it made you hiss, but he ignored it, instead rolling your pulsating clit under his thumb. he played you like his damn keyboard, making your throat sing exactly how he wanted, whimpering under his touch while he kept his tip inside you. gently, slowly, he slid in a little deeper, making you curse and in turn getting your clit played with a little harder. sebastian let out a slow hum, as if savouring the feeling of your cunt contracting around him, squeezing him in to keep his cock inside, sucking it in, needing it.

“so damn…” he shook his head, finally meeting your eyes as he held your hips with those elegant fingers, “tight, fucking hell…” with another hum he slightly pulled away, but still keeping his tip inside, as he promised.

doesn’t mean you were happy with it. your hand sought out his, so you gripped his wrist, keeping yourself grounded in the moment. after a few moments he slid deeper inside again. yoba, you felt every damn vein on him, you felt it drag inside you, teasing you with that gorgeous texture. your back arched into the air. the sight excited him so much he had to slide in deeper and give you more. more, once again. the bastard then pulled back, waited until you gave him a dissatisfied whine, and then slid fully into you.

you threw your head back on his pillow, moaning out into the dimly lit room, trying to get used to having all of him inside. sebastian’s head dipped down low, he held you in shaky hands for a few moments until he could get enough of a grip to start moving. it was something almost sacred, the way his cock hit all your sweet spots so well. his balls slapped against your ass with light taps until he decided to speed up, his teasing be damned.

"a-ah l-like tha-at…” you held onto his wrist with one hand, tightening the grip, and onto the headboard above you with the other. you sure hoped it was sturdy enough, because he kept going faster, harder. thrusting into you with heavy grunts and an occasional whimper as your body arched, getting the angle just right, getting it to make stars dance behind your closed eyelids. his voice behind your eyes looked like bright fireworks, moaning, grunting, whispering fuuck, so pretty, so sweet, filling the air with lewd noises.

“yoba, ‘m not gonna… not gonna last that lon— oh fuck…” with a voice like he was on the edge of an orgasm already, sebastian slipped nonsense between those parted lips. only fuelling your needy moans further, he grabbed you tightly, wrapped his arms around your waist, and lifted your hips off the bed. oh, that was sending you into another dimension. he kept sliding in and out, so freely now as he let himself stop being so damn mean and stuffed you full, gliding in and out of your slippery cunt.

as sebastian’s thrusts lost their constant rhythm, the moans from his lips increased, now reducing him to a mess as he held you up, using you like his personal toy to ruin, using you to extinguish the fire in his abdomen and yours. you felt your thighs shake. the whines and curses from your mouth grew higher in pitch, so fucking needy for him, tightening around him, sucking him into yourself.

“a-are you gonna…” you tried to enunciate, tried to speak in a normal tone, but it was pathetic.

“y-yeah i’m… are you?”

“m-mhmmmm”

feeling your lip quiver, you grabbed the sheets underneath. sebastian lifted you a little higher, speeding up once again, building up a pace he could hold as he thrust inside you. but out of the blue, you cried out, gripping the sheets tightly to hold onto something solid as you tightened around him and came, shivering while he kept pumping in and out of you. now he was cursing louder. whimpers came in between grunts, a few more rough thrusts before he groaned loudly, throwing his head back as he slowed down while emptying himself inside you. he rode out that high with his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly moving your body that was nearly limp in his hands, filling you up with his cum as it shot into you.

gently, sebastian lowered your hips back onto the bed, slowly pulling out of you. he looked at the spot where you had been connected just a minute ago, his release now slowly trickling out of it. the view must have been hypnotic, he kept looking for a few long minutes, catching his breath while your limp body lay there exhausted. warmth was spreading into you again, from your core to your fingertips. you closed your eyes for a second. the second must have lasted longer than planned, since as you opened your eyes, sebastian was standing next to the bed with a wet cloth, reaching down to clean you up with gentle touches. you looked into his focused face, seeing none of that mean smirk he had worn before he let himself enjoy you. i guess in a way we broke each other.

you groaned as he moved your legs, feeling gummy under his touch. chuckling, he dropped the used cloth next to the bed and crawled carefully over you. his warm arm brought your body closer, rolling you into his chest as he dragged the covers from under you and over both of your bodies. your cheek gently rested against his chest as he turned the lamp off, once again sinking the room into darkness. this time the dark felt softer, all tension from it seemed to have disappeared while his hand rubbed your back in slow circles.

“so…” you started, feeling a sly grin curling your lips, “round two?”

he snorted in laughter, coughing before sighing in disbelief. “you’re outta your damn mind.” he paused before pressing an uncharacteristically tender kiss to the top of your head. “at least give me five minutes…”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, a wet hand moving to the back of his neck in a nervous habit. “I- uh, I do. Wanted to ask how you felt about having sex with Seb so you could make me your cuck.”

The plate falls from your hands, sinking to the bottom of the porcelain with a soft thud as you just stare at him. Fuck his best friend in front of him, set the scene for Sam to get willingly cuckolded and fulfill a fantasy of his? A fantasy you didn’t know he had, and you’d been dating for a couple years. This was a lot for seven in the morning. 

“We so totally don’t have to, I haven’t asked Seb anything, since I wanted to talk to you first and if you weren’t okay, then-“

“Sam relax!” You chide gently, drying your hands as he takes over washing your plate. “Please, babe, calm down.”

“You think I’m a freak.”

“Always have, baby, but I love it.” The assurance has him looking less nervous, but you can tell he needs a bit more reassurance. “I’ll fuck Seb if he’s down. But we gotta talk about boundaries and stuff too.”

“I’d personally want to see him absolutely wreck you, baby. Like, whatever he wants as long as you’ll allow it.” 

You didn’t mean now, but you supposed any time was a good time to have this kind of conversation since Sam had opened the door, brought you inside, and you locked it behind you both when you had agreed to the idea.

Which leads you to Sebastian. You needed to talk to Robin about a home renovation anyway, then popped downstairs to where Sebastian was hard at work. Or deep into a game. His focus face was the same either way so it was difficult to tell but based on the time of day, you’d assume it was work. 

“Hey, Seb?”

“Hey, give me a second and I’ll be able to give you my full attention.”

It’s a standard Sebastian greeting, one that has you sitting down in the other chair at his desk and enjoying the time off your feet. He’s humming as he types away, and you look up at the ceiling while planning the rest of your afternoon before your dinner date with Sam. You’d need to stop by Pierre’s and check the crab pots in the river on your way home, probably some extra time in the barn with the goats before taking a shower. 

“Alright, what’s up?”

“We need to talk about Sam,” you start, looking at Sebastian as he looks at you. “He’s got this fantasy and I need your help.”

“He said you’d be by. Couple days later than I expected, though.” You’re going to let that slide, leaning back in the chair as he watches you. “But yeah I’m happy to help you cuck him. Did he tell you about the two thoughts?”

You nod; having been told that Sam would love to be surprised with a video in addition to the actual sitting and watching you fuck his best friend, meaning that you’d have sex with Sebastian twice. And while you’re not sure this won’t end on a weird note, you’re still open and excited for what was to come. Sebastian was very attractive, getting a pass to have sex with him was a gift you wouldn’t turn down even if the circumstances were unexpected. 

“We can get part one done now, if you’re not busy,” he offers, pushing his chair back a bit and putting his hand over the bulge in his pants. “Surprise your boyfriend with a cute video of you sucking my dick?”

You agree without hesitation, sliding from your seat while requesting that he not get any of his cum in your hair since you had other things to do that day.

“Gonna choke on it like you choke on Sam’s?”

“What don’t you two talk about?” you ask as you kneel in front of him, sighing when Sebastian tells you that there isn’t a single secret between the two men. The only thing Sebastian doesn’t know is if you have any kinks that aren’t some of Sam’s, but those are things that can be discussed later. Not when you’re working together to push his pants down to free his semi-erect dick and he’s reaching for his phone so he can record the event. 

“If it’s too much, tap my thigh or something, alright?” 

At the notification stating there was a message from Sebastian, Sam halts his cleaning around the house to see what it was. He’s giddy when he sees it’s a photo, quickly opening it to see what was there only to almost drop his phone when he sees his darling girlfriend with Sebastian's balls in her mouth, shaft resting on her face, with the caption: Sure she’s only yours?

But he needs more, and they come in small chunks that have him literally praying that there’s a full recording that he’ll get. The POV of his girlfriend taking another cock in her mouth and gagging around it, having her head held in place by Sebastian’s large hand until she was struggling to breathe and leaving a mess behind when she came up for air. Sebastian calling her a messy little slut before telling her to clean up her mess makes Sam harder than he anticipated, his hand going into his pants to try and relieve some of the ache as he waits for the next one to come in. The third comes in a couple minutes later, and he smiles when he sees her gently kissing the tip of Sebastian’s cock before slowly taking it into her mouth, while Sebastian requests that she suck him “like she sucked her little boyfriend”. No caption on that one, but that was more than okay. She looked so good with cock in her mouth, and he knows that she’ll look just as good when it’s his own cock as soon as she gets home. 

But then he has to wait for the next one - hoping there would be another one. Standing in the middle of the living room, cock in one hand, phone in the other as the broom rests forgotten against his chest. Edging himself is difficult when he could replay the videos he’d gotten, but if he’s going to get a cumshot video (Seb said he’d try) he’d want to cum to that. 

It’s much longer than he’d like, but when he does receive the video he’s waiting for, it’s enough to have him spilling in his hand as he watches Sebastian cum in his girlfriend’s mouth with a hearty groan before he pulls out and tells her to show her boyfriend how good she is. And she does, opening her mouth to show off the cum sitting on her tongue before Sebastian sticks his thumb in her mouth and tells her to swallow, and the smile on her face when he pulls his thumb out and calls her a good girl. The caption? 

Make sure you give our girl a good kiss for me bro. 

And now Sam had to wash his hands and wipe his cum from the hardwood of the farmhouse. His lady farmer was very particular about her hardwood staying in top shape.

It’s only a couple weeks before part two comes to fruition, which took a fair amount of planning between you and Sebastian. More in depth discussion about hard limits, finding a free evening where there wasn’t a hangout or family dinner planned, and waiting for the emergency contraceptive to be delivered by mail. Once everything was in place, Sebastian came over for dinner. 

Sam must’ve known what was about to transpire after dinner, because he could barely sit still through the meal. You only sip your wine with a smile, looking at Sebastian as he looked at you. 

“I think we should watch a movie,” Sebastian states, and you nod with a smile as Sam deflates a little bit. “But I’ll help with dishes first.” 

“No, it’s all good. I’ll clean up, you two go get a movie started.” The instruction from Sam has you nodding, letting him top off your glass before he shoos you and Sebastian from the kitchen and towards the living room. A couple DVDs are pulled from the shelf and put on the coffee table, but neither you nor Sebastian put any effort into actually picking a movie. You wouldn’t be watching it anyway. And you think it might’ve been the wine, but there was something different about the way Sebastian was looking at you tonight. 

It’s only a few minutes before Sam is sitting beside you on the couch, curious why nothing was playing until Sebastian tells him that you were waiting for him to pick. And he does, pushing the disc into the player before he settles beside you with an arm around your shoulders. About five minutes into the movie you shift, leaning more into Sam but draping one of your legs across Sebastian’s lap. You’d worn a skirt with no panties to ensure easy access for him, and bit your lip when you felt his finger trail up your already wet slit to your clit.

“You’re such a dirty slut,” Sebastian murmurs, drawing Sam’s attention to where his friend’s hand was up your skirt. “Boyfriend right there and you’re dripping wet for me. Sammy not do it for you anymore?”

You can only grin, letting Sebastian pull you closer but push you back so you were laying on Sam’s lap. Your skirt is pushed up, giving a clear view of Sebastian’s hand moving as his fingers fuck your pussy, and you can feel Sam’s erection stir beneath your head as his hand pets your head. You can tell he wants to move, relocate to the armchair where he can get a clear view of what Sebastian was about to do to you, so you take a hold of his shirt as you look up at him.

“You’ll stay here.”

“But babe, I-”

“Cucks don’t get to cum, Sam.” Your tone is firm despite the smile on your face, and that has him nodding with a pink face as Sebastian pulls his hoodie and tshirt off. You take your shirt off as Sebastian gets out of his pants, and you bite your lip as he comes to stand before you. Your mouth opens as soon as he commands it, his hand pushing Sam’s away so he can hold you in one spot to fuck your face. 

“If I feel teeth, I’ll spank that cute little pussy ‘til you’re sobbing.” You hum your acknowledgement around his cock, aware that Sam has fished his phone out of his pocket to try and record. The way Sebastian is bent over the two of you might make that difficult, but your concern is the thick length punching against the back of your throat as his grip on your hair tightens. “She’s an obedient little whore, how come you haven’t tamed her yet Sammy? Aside from the obvious.”

Sam doesn’t have an answer, and Sebastian pauses with his hips pressed to your face and carefully tilts Sam’s head back by his chin so he’d look up at him. 

“If you’re a good little cuck, maybe you can suck my cock tonight, too.” And he’s pulling back, giving you a chance to breathe but tapping your cheek with his spit slick cock before he moves to settle between your legs. “But I can only handle one slut at a time, and she's my priority.”

“He’s used to coming in second,” you add, smiling when Sebastian leans in to kiss you as he pushes into your cunt. You’d had sex with Sam earlier in the day, so the stretch wasn’t as brutal as it could have been, but you know Sebastian is reveling in your discomfort at his size. He’d warned you that he could be mean, a bit masochistic, and here you were. 

“Oh, am I bigger than your little boyfriend? Stretching your pussy more than you’ve ever had to hurts?”

“You’ve seen it,” you remind, looking up at Sam as Sebastian starts moving. “You know you’re bigger, Seb.”

“Wanted to hear you say it, honey. Now I want you to shut up and look at your boyfriend as I make you cum with my big dick.”

And you do, looking up at Sam’s awestruck expression as Sebastian fucks you roughly. Your shoulders scrape against the denim of his jeans as you rub against his thigh with every thrust. You’ve seen this look of adoration before, never once thinking that he’d be able to look at you like that while he watches you take his best friend’s cock, but seeing this helps you feel better about how this would end. Definitely not weird considering how into this both he and Sebastian were. 

“Gonna cum already?” He asks, stopping when you nod. He fucks you harder, hand rubbing your clit furiously as you beg him for more. “Show your boyfriend how hard you cum for me.”

You know the men are just as surprised as you are when you squirt, wailing Sebastian’s name as you do while Sam lets out a “holy shit” and Sebastian just grins at you. That took a lot out of you, but that doesn’t bother Sebastian as he fucks you through it and continues to fuck into you. 

“Cute little whore pussy squirting for Daddy. You know who owns you and your pussy, isn’t that right?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, hand gripping the back of the couch for some kind of stability as his thrusts increase in force. 

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours! It’s your pussy!” 

“Who am I, baby? Who owns this pussy?”

“You, Daddy!” There’s a slap to your pussy that has your eyes rolling back, Sebastian’s hands gripping your hips as he nears his own end. “Please cum in my pussy Daddy!”

“After I put a load in you, your little cuck can eat it out and thank me for giving you such a big load.” You nod at the suggestion, biting your lip as it started to become too much. He was close, the flush creeping up his chest as his rhythm started to get more sloppy. “Fuck, gonna cum. Get on the floor, cuck, you can have some of my cum too.”

Sam moves quicker than you’d expect, and your head drops to the couch just as Sebastian’s hips still against yours and you feel the familiar warmth that was ropes of cum shooting into your pussy. A wave of his hand has Sam scooting closer, and you watch with vested interest as Sam opens his mouth for Sebastian. He had to have sucked a dick before, and you’re going to ask about that later, since right now you’re enamored by how eagerly he takes Sebastian’s dick into his mouth to clean it off as Sebastian had instructed.

Then Sam is watching you as Sebastian pulls you to sit in his lap. His cum is starting to drip from your pussy, but one crooked finger from Sebastian has Sam closing in like a starved man. The soft frenzy of Sam’s tongue at your opening was such a nice contrast to the harsh smack of Sebastian’s skin against yours, you can’t help but push your hand into his hair to bring him closer to your cunt so you can push for more contact. Sebastian whispering in your ear that you were in charge eggs you on in the best way, and his fingers on your clit bring a soft moan out of you that has Sam humming into your pussy. 

“So good, Sam,” you mumble, leaning back against Sebastian as you continue to grind against the blonde’s face. You were close already, and you knew Sebastian could tell based on how he rubs your clit faster. “Fuck, s’good.”

“The cuck can make her cum, whaddya know?” Sebastian teases, moving his fingers from your clit when your body tenses in his arms and gently massaging your sides as Sam eats you through it. Sebastian kisses your cheek before he moves you to the space beside him, mumbling something about getting home before it gets too late that has you reaching for his arm to stop him from getting up. 

“You should stay,” you mumble to Sebastian, looking down at Sam who nods his agreement while wiping at his mouth. “We want you to stay.”

“Shower and snuggle, dude.” Sam adds, carefully standing from where he was knelt in front of the couch before offering his hand to Sebastian to bring him to his feet. “After what you just did with us, we can make you a good breakfast.”

“Shower and snuggle,” Sebastian echoes, offering his hand to you as Sam does and murmuring “up you go, sweetheart” as they pull you to your feet. You would all be sleeping really well tonight, and you’re happy that Sebastian agreed to stay. 

He was a sweetie, usually - A himboish charm that had you giggling, carding your fingers through his hair and around the base of his horns. Ever so helpful, manhandling a bay bale as if it weighed nothing, his big biceps and thick chest flexing with effort.

He could throw you, use his bullish strength to sink you down in his lap, use you like a doll and huff the sweetly sweaty musk that permeates off of your body - especially that pussy of yours, practically outlined with the taut of your jeans, the material ever so slightly tighter on your frame thanks to all the hearty Winter indulges.

Bulls were meant to breed, to pump calves into a heard, enough stamina within him to go on forever, big and strong and bullying in nature - It shows with the chomp of his teeth against your bare tit, the button down you had shrugged on that morning popped open and falling down your arms. Your straw sunhat was cutely crooked on your head, jeans ripped at the seam by the rut-fueled bull, his thick and plumpy tip struggling to shove past the rim of your cunt, even gravity betraying him as you hover in his lap. 

"S'tight, Farmer.." Alex's thick tongue laps at the indents of his teeth left into your skin, wrapping his lips around your nipple to nurse and suckle on.

You breathe a heavy sound, tinted with a whine, hand buried in his brown locks and the other desperately rubbing circles into your clit, a desperate attempt to gush the slick you needed to engulf his thick bull cock.

Alex fists at the base of his length, veins angry as they throb up his dick, pumping him full of hot arousal laced blood as he jerks himself off into your squeezy hole, pudgy tip oozing spurts of slick precum against your walls. You whine, his thick brows knit, those bleary green eyes looking up at you through dark lashes, a few boyish freckles dotting over his scrunched up nose.

Your hips wiggle, soft humps half matching the strokes of his length, working at milking his tip, cunt drooling slick for him to use as lube, and yet still barely pushing in half-way. You were so cute, indulging him like this, so sweet to split your pussy open just for him. 

Alex pops off of your nipple, the poor bud all bruisy and aching, from the suckle and teeth, the abuse of his affectionate mouth. He continues to indulge; his tongue licking over your collarbone, teeth grazing your skin, huffing in your scent from your neck, peppering down until his nose eventually digs into the squish of your armpit. He was practically worshipping you, with kisses and bites, a free hand groping at your body, throat humming a soft, rumbly moo, nose huffing when he gets a good inhale of your sweat and scent.

He involuntarily bucks his hips, fucking into his fist, plunging deeper into your kissy walls, steadily rocking the fat of his head against the spongey little spot, all squelchy, making your body buzz alight. 

Your fingers get desperate, hips squirmy, the pinching sting of his bullying length adding a ripe sensation you never knew you needed- You play with your clit, rubbing in right circles, brows stuck in a permanent scrunch of concentration, voice useless as you whine and babble sweet nothingness against Alex's sweaty temple.

"Hahh.. S'good... Y'so good Farmer..." Alex murmurs appreciatively, greedily huffing against your skin. His breathing heightens, breaths becoming shorter, fist jerking his cock off into you with a dizzying desperation.

Sure, what he did next was a little mean; wrapping both of his arms tight around your body, thick biceps trapping you right there, useless as he uses your pussy to milk himself off, massaging his tip right on your taught and bruised entrance.

You're like a doll, pliant in his arms, locked in place, like a personal pocket pussy, no struggle or attempt to get your fingers on your stingy clit achievable.

Oohhh but it feels worth it - feeling each pump of thick, hot, milky cum spurt into your pussy and dribble down his dick, pooling messily around his flexing sack, each dribble replaced with another needy pump. He stuffs his face into you, tongue and teeth on your skin, hands bruisingly tight on your body, his cock, even just the pudgy plum tip, fully flexing inside of you.

You whine in mock protest, squirmy as he cranes his hips with each spurt, stuck in place right in his strong arms.

Don't worry though. He's not done, far from it.

He can't help but dive his thick tongue through your glossy folds after, seeing the way his thick cum gurgles out of your cunt with a bubbly sputter.

He'll work you open, train that little hole of yours to properly take him, he was too eager before, silly bull trying to plug you full of hybrid cock without the proper prep. 

His lips suckle, the smell of slick, sex and hay surrounding you as your body limply twitches against a hay bale, reacting to the way Alex's thick tongue affectionately works its way into your cunt.

•··········•··········˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖··········•··········•

Idk where this came from? Alex was on the mind :>

Keep me away from Twitter links, they make my fingers type

laughter spills from the propped open back door, underlined by music from that static-filled old jukebox, and it's almost too easy to just continue taking kisses from each other, to lean in and warm your lips together while the rest of the town dances and drinks. you're enough the way you are, knees touching as you sit angled, hands resting one atop the other, cradling together like they feel the first chill in the air as the season changes. his jacket hangs off your shoulders, warm as the skin of his hands in yours, shielding you from the breeze coming from the west. it's like a token you carry home with you every week, up until you reach the gates to the farm where you shrug the warm leather off your shoulders and hand it back, pulling him in for another kiss before you part for the night. now the sleeves hang off you, almost like a hug as sebastian kisses the corner of your lips one last time before getting up off the step and dusting off his jeans, outstretching a hand to you. and you always take it, pulling yourself up to start making your way back to the farm, to start the long, dragged out good bye as he twirls you along the path past the bus stop, as he picks you up despite your halfhearted protests and squealing while he spins with you in his arms, as you lean into his side again, feeling his arm tight around your shoulders and his lips warm on the top of your head.

you've reached the gate again.

the damn gate that you wish didn't exist, you wish didn't mean good night and i'll see you tomorrow and we'll kiss again soon and be safe and let me know when you're back and i love you and i love you and i love you and i love you. you wish again, like every week so far this summer that just turned the corner on the way out, that it could mean come in, be quiet, i love you, ouch that's my foot, careful in the dark, i love you, let me kiss you here, i love you, you're so pretty, i love you, i love you. but the light in the kitchen is on. so you sigh and caress his warm blushing cheek. you get up on your tiptoes once again to kiss him, and his arms wrap around your waist like a snake catching its meal, tight and warm and comfortable. the jacket changes hands, electrifying brushes of fingertips exchanged with the leather under your palm, and sebastian reaches into one of the pockets with a soft curse on his kiss-bitten lips. in his hand—a crumpled up fairy rose. in his eyes—a tender plea. on his lips—that familiar smile. in the air—a question. he's been saying he would get a job soon, as soon as school ends and he wouldn't have to think about maths again. he would get you a real bouquet then, he promised. something closer to what you deserve. until then, it's a purple fairy rose picked that morning while evelyn was looking away from the flower patch in the town square. until then, it will do. you nod enthusiastically, happy squeak on your lips as you throw yourself into his arms once more, inhaling the scent of his blushing skin where you plant another kiss, a seal on his neck, on his jaw, then finally on his lips.

you could drown in the taste of them if the universe let you, you could live suspended in the moment that you feel his breath on your face, smile tugging the corners of his lips and on the strings of your heart. a safe place in another person's chest, where you could crawl in and forever listen to the heartbeats against his ribs, lulling you to peaceful sleep. and this time when you pull away, your fingers stay entangled a little longer, the last to part as you open that creaking old gate and head up the pebble path leading to the farmhouse. the flower twirls between your fingers, scent almost hypnotic when you press your nose to the smooth petals. despite its wrinkled appearance, it's the most beautiful thing you've seen. a token you get to keep as long as it lives, a promise, a vibrant reminder that there is a future for you in pelican town, and it has a name. a name that you giddily whisper as you lie in bed, staring at the starry night outside your window, wishing for the dawn to hurry so you could see him again sooner.