rice

“‘m sorry,” you slurred, still a little tipsy from the alcohol you had consumed tonight. One cocktail became three, and a few shots turned into seeking out some overpriced blow. The weed stashed back at your friend's dorm would've been fine for you, but their roommate was in the mood for something else, and you let them convince you into going along. But now you wished you hadn't, sitting in the back of Charlie's SUV, the taste of bile creeping up your throat. “I won't do it again,” you added for good measure, looking up at the rear view mirror, catching Charlie's eyes as they stared back, watching you from the front seat.

“You better not,” he grunts, one swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip.

He was your knight in shining armour tonight, called from the backseat of a cruiser, the cuffs tight and digging into your wrists. You had to beg the prick to let you make the call; apparently being the mayor's daughter didn't get you any ‘get out of jail free’ cards like you thought.

Or maybe those only worked for your brother.

“Was Cassie with you tonight?”

You shake your head. “She was with Jake.”

He tuts, flicking his eyes to the road, the wheel gradually turning as he takes you from one street and onto another. Jake was a good boy, a good student, wanted to go to med school one day, but Cassie was Charlie's only daughter - and his only kid - you had heard plenty of arguments through your high school years, muffled words filtering up through floorboards, about how no one was going to be good enough for his little girl.

“Are you going to tell my dad about this?” You ask, running your thumb mindlessly in circles against the seat belt.

He lets out a little laugh, mentally praising you for having the gall to ask such a question. “I probably should.”

The three words sobered you up instantly.

“Mr Reid-”

“Charlie,” he lightly corrects, eyes in the rear-view mirror now back on you.

“Charlie,” you say quietly, "please, don't tell my dad. He'll kill me for this.” His eyebrows perk up at your theatrics. “Not literally, obviously.” You nervously laugh, attempting and failing to play it off as a joke.

Charlie's black SUV comes to a stop and you glance out of the tinted window to see your parents’ townhome. The black iron rails were draped in fake spiderwebs, three pumpkins, all carved by your mother with the help of your nieces, were stacked perfectly by the bottom step, and a Halloween-themed wreath was pinned to the front door. All the windows were black, meaning your parents were most definitely asleep, but your stomach still twists uncomfortably. Who knows what punishment your dad would dish out? Your allowance? Gone, better start looking for a job. That trip you wanted to take during Winter break? Forget about it.

“It wasn't even my idea to buy the coke,” you desperately make your case, the seat belt snapping back as you unclip it, “It was Malia's; she didn't want to smoke any of Jordan's weed.” A heat blazes up your neck to settle on your cheeks. “I-I haven't…” Your voice trails off as you attempt to lie, but he pins you with a hard glare.

“A judge wouldn't have cared if it had been the Pope's idea, kid.”

He unclips his seat belt and turns to face you, his arm stretched out and holding onto the shoulder of the passenger seat. Your focus lingers for a second too long on his large hand, just long enough for Charlie to notice, and he follows your eyes as they slowly lower into your lap. He holds in a breath, your soft thighs poking out from beneath your mini skirt evoking no shame as he stares longer at your legs.

“You were dumb enough to get caught by an undercover cop,” he says a beat later, “even if I don't tell your dad, they still might blab about it to their buddies.”

Your eyes shot up to look at him, mouth parting on a silent gasp. “But you said-”

“I know what I said,” he cuts you off, his grip adjusting on the seat.

You wet your lips and he watched your tongue slip and slide slowly across. The cogs turned, metaphorical equations appeared in front of you, but there isn't a solution you can find to get yourself out of this. Your stomach twisted tighter and you collapsed your head back against the headrest.

“I'm royally fucked,” you whisper to yourself, the SUV's ceiling disappearing as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Charlie chuckles, the edges caressed with darkness. “You can get out of this.” He has your attention in less than a second. He turned his head away, hiding a mock frown. “But I'm not sure-”

“I'll do anything,” you interrupt, leaning forward, closing off some of the space between you. Desperate doesn't even begin to describe how you sound, the whiney breath and hitched noise in the back of your throat stiring his cock. “Please, Charlie, I'll do anything to make sure my dad doesn't find out.”

“Yeah?” A nod subtly jerks your head up and down. “Climb into the front seat,” he orders, adjusting his seat, giving you space to climb through. He tugs at his jeans, adjusting his semi-hard erection. “Clocks ticking,” he grunts, his tone harder, and it snapped you into motion, your skirt riding up as you climbed into the front seat.

You tug the sides of your mini skirt down, covering very little of your thighs. “What now?” You glance across - Charlie wasn't looking at you, just staring ahead, eyes on the street.

“Take my cock out.”

You blink twice, each flutter of your eyelashes deliberately slow. “Sorry?”

Turning, he now looked at you, his features stoic and dimly lit from the street lights. This version of Charlie was darker and one he worked hard to keep hidden over the years. “Take it out,” he repeats slowly, unbuckling his belt, starting you off.

You lean away, clasping your hands together to hide how they slightly trembled.

“You do this, kid, and I'll forget all about your little accident,” he marks it with air quotes, “but if you don't, the mayor's gonna find out his daughter's got a liking for coke.”

“Cassie's my best friend.”

“She is,” he bobs his head, nodding. He gets the implication you're trying to make, but deep down he doesn't care.

“I phoned you because-”

“Because you thought I could be your get out of jail free card,” Charlie snipes, his hand unfastening his jeans, working the zipper down, “but my favours come with a price, and now you either pay up, or you get out of the car.”

You look down at your hands now splayed out across your thighs; your nail polish had chipped at some point in the night.

His thumb touches your cheekbone as he reaches out and cups the side of your face turned away from him. It's gentle, done deliberately to soften you. “It's just one tiny thing, doll,” he murmurs, closing the gap. His lips graze your cheek as you turn further away from him. “What do you want more? For this to go away or for your dad to be disappointed? I know which one I would pick.”

“Cassie can't find out,” you whisper, turning your head a moment later, your eyes trained on his. They're dark and avoid of colour. It startles you, making you gasp. “She'll never talk to me again.”

There's a flash of pain in your eyes, the emotion you choose not to hide, and Charlie covers it with a kiss. Reluctantly, you kiss him back, moving your lips slowly. Your nails are scratching at your skin as your fingers curl, your hands acting on instinct on wanting to grab something, but you're not ready to touch him yet.

“It's okay,” he softly says, covering the back of your head with his hand, pulling you closer, “you don't gotta be shy with me.” Your hand slaps atop the hand creeping to the inner of your thighs. His eyes pour into yours, dark and intense. “I'll be gentle.”

He brings his mouth back down, making it hard for you to breathe as he stakes his claim. A whimper surprises you, filling the darkness of his SUV with a sound other than his hungry kisses, as he nips and grazes his teeth at your lip.

His hand escapes from under yours to force your legs apart, making enough room to slip under your skirt. He blows out a groan, his thumb pushing against the front of your panties and feeling lace.

“I bet she's really pretty,” he mutters, bringing his mouth down against your neck, forming a path of haste kisses until he meets your shoulder. He sucks, nips and marks your flesh, and you clamp your mouth shut, forcing any sound back down. “Pull it up, I wanna see.”

You look around, observing the street. “Here?”

“Yes, here.”

Taking a breath, you lift your skirt, your eyes flicking to his, drawn in by the primal growl he releases, one that causes a small flutter of wings in the pit of your belly. The growl matches the inhumane level of lust in his dark eyes.

Your body jerks away from Charlie's hand, your body rattling like you had been jolted by a thousand sparks of electricity, and your mouth parts, letting out a surprised gasp as he strikes your pussy through the baby pink lace. The sound is caressed with a softness that goes straight to his head.

“Charlie?!”

“That's for waking me up so late,” he scolds, spanking your pussy for a second time. “That's for making me drive across the city.” He does it again and now you bite your lip to silence yourself. “And that's for being dumb enough to nearly get yourself arrested on a drug charge.”

You pout. “That wasn't nice.”

He ignores you, sitting back in his seat, his hand rubbing his thigh. “Pay up, doll.”

You don't have to do this, the voice in your head tries to persuade you. You'll regret it, it sings, think of Cassie, you'll never be able to look her in the eyes again. What would she think if she discovered you blew her dad just to get out of disappointing your parents?

She'll hate you.

You'll hate yourself.

How pathetic are you?

You're moving before the voice finishes berating you, kneeling on the front seat, your skirt still pulled up, the baby pink on show for anyone who might be walking past at this late hour. If your parents were to look out of their bedroom window, they might just catch a glimpse of you reaching across the centre console, Charlie's cock half-hard and held lightly in your hand.

He's bigger than you anticipated, but it wasn't like you had ever wondered about the size of your best friend's dad's cock before tonight.

You adjust your hand around the base and he shudders out a breath.

“Don't have to tell you what to do, do I?” Charlie asks, his voice bringing your eyes up to his face. His stare is intense, enough to trigger your thighs to squeeze together.

“You won't tell my parents what happened?” He shakes his head. “And you won't tell Cassie this happened?”

His thumb touches your chin, brushing softly under your bottom lip. “It'll be our little secret.” His words made you feel dirty, but you shake it off, along with the voice inside still berating you.

Bending low, a glob of spit drips from your mouth, onto his cock, and you work it onto him with slow strokes. Charlie sighs above you, the corners of his mouth twisted with evil intentions, and he guides his hand down your back, making you squirm as he grabs a fistful of your bum, squeezing you like you were some stress toy.

“That's it,” he mutters, his head tipping back, feeling your tongue drag across the tip, “nice and slow. There's no need for us to rush this.”

You drag and circle your tongue around him, your mouth widening and lips stretching, swallowing the tip, sucking slowly as instructed. It's a wet and warm heaven, like slipping into a warm bath after a tiring, long shift, your mouth, and Charlie groans, squeezing your bum as he nods his head. It's caught in the corner of your eye, and spurs you on to keep going.

“God, that's good,” he rasps, feeling you struggle to adjust to his size, his width stuffing your cheeks.

You jerk back, a string of spit slowly dripping from your mouth, feeling his hand push under your panties. There's a flash of panic in your eyes, your chin tipped up to look at him, the spit breaking and dangling from your chin.

“Shush, it's okay,” he mumbles, placing his free hand on the back of your neck, pushing you back down. His cock breeches your mouth, stuffing you silent. “Just want to play with her for a minute.” Again, that evil twisted grin appears. “Don't worry, you'll like it. Be good and I might even let you come.”

There's no working you up to it; two fingers push in to claim your pussy like Charlie had every right to it. Tonight, perhaps he did. You hiss, the sound vibrating around him, and he follows it with a hard grunt.

Soft groans and hard grunts were his way of letting you know he liked it, you had decided, with the occasional snippet of praise forming on his lips. The absence of his voice made room for that voice inside your head again.

Dirty whore.

Slut.

Pathetic.

You squeeze your eyes shut hoping to keep the tears at bay as they brim, but it only sends them trickling down your cheeks.

“Don't stop,” Charlie's voice pushes the voice back, “that's it. I bet you can get a bit more in.” His hand pushes you down, stuffing your mouth with another inch, a grunt following as he feels you widen your mouth to accommodate him. “Feels nice,” he says, but you can't tell if he's complimenting your throat or your cunt, that clenches around his fingers as the praise comes.

You're enjoying this?

You silence the voice for good, forcing it to the back of your head, the sound of you gagging covering it, the last inch of him stuffed between your lips.

Fresh tears feel like tiny shards of glass and spill down your cheeks as you glance up at him with teary eyes.

His head is tipped back, his lips parting as he pants and groans, his chest heaving as his breathing turns harder. No memory comes to mind when he tries to think back to the last time someone had blown him this good.

“Just hold it there,” he grunts, forcing more of his weight onto the back of your neck, fingers pressing down on either side. Spit coats his length as you choke on him. “Good girl,” the praise is growled, “taking it like a fuckin’ pro. Sucked many cocks, have you?”

But he doesn't give you a second to answer, the end of his cock still hitting the back of your throat, his hips lifting from the seat to fuck himself as deep as possible. When he does let off, you're gasping for air, a sheen of drool covering your chin as fresh spit drips and dangles. The lip gloss you had been recoating your lips with all night had all but gone, just baby pink streaks smeared along his length.

To answer his question, you shake your head. No, you hadn't sucked many cocks, as he had put it. There was your high school boyfriend, who had pressured you into it because he had wanted to know if it would feel good. He came pretty quickly, his cheeks ablaze with embarrassment, and you spat out his cum in his bathroom sink, refusing to look up at his mom as you hurriedly left. And there were a few here and there at college, who you foolishly thought might become your boyfriends, but they suddenly lost your number or forgot who you were afterwards.

Charlie sounded shocked, but his face gave you nothing. He withdraws his fingers from your pussy, a desperate whine leaving your lips - surprising you - and lightly smacks your bum as a form of punishment. “You're just a natural then, huh?” He grins, wrapping his clean hand around his base and nudging the tip back between your puffy lips.

He grunts, closing his eyes to let himself be lost in the feeling of you flicking and swirling your tongue over him. He pulsates as your tongue licks up along the vein, finishing with a sharp flick across his tip. His eyes flash open, groaning. You do it again and his fingers grab tight onto your bum.

“Ah, that's it,” he tips his chin, nodding, your hand stroking the base as you swallow him, sucking hungrily, “just like that, doll.”

You keep going, stroking and sucking him faster, your jaw beginning to hurt from the strain.

His hand returns to the back of your head, mirroring the bobbing of your throat, with his fingers back at your hole, lazily teasing it in circles. You whimper each time he pushes his fingertips inside, the soft vibration causing his hips to jerk up, stuffing himself deeper, which causes you to choke and gag, the harsh, slightly painful, sound like music to Charlie's ears.

When his fingers push deeper inside your walls, you force more of him into your throat, hollowing out your cheeks, sucking enthusiastically like it might earn you extra credit.

“That's it, doll, now you're getting into it.” He pats the back of your head. “Feels good, just giving into it, doesn't it?” You moan around him, and he just smiles. “Pretty soaked, down here,” he slips his fingers out, wiping your juices along your slit, coating your swollen clit as he strokes it in slow circles, “this perfect, pretty pussy.” He strikes it with another slap and you moan hard. “I fucking knew you liked it when I was spanking you earlier.” He does it again, the coil in your core twisting tighter as you beg him to do it again. “Dirty girl.”

“Please, Charlie,” you plead, stroking him faster, “please!”

His head tilts, eyebrows perked amusingly, watching you pant hard against his cock. “You want to come, sweetheart?”

You whimper out, “Yes.”

He frees his hand, and you whine softly as he slips his fingers away from your clit. He brings them up to his mouth, sucking each finger, deliberately keeping his eyes locked on yours. Your walls flutter as he draws out a moan, sucking each finger a second time to make sure he's cleaned your juices off.

“No.” He wraps his hand around his base and stuffs himself back into your mouth, silencing your protest. “I said I might make you come, not that I would,” he grumbles, pounding his hips up off the seat.

He comes hard. His jaw slacked, and his head tipped back to not show you his face, hiding the deep red blush that stains his cheeks every time he comes. His grip is relentless, holding you down, his release spilling against the back of your throat; the thick ropes take you by surprise and you gag and splutter on the first few spurts of his release. It spills down your chin, mixing with your spit.

“Christ-!” Charlie's panting as you pull away, using your fingers to wipe your chin, pushing his cum back into your mouth. “That's it, doll, you make sure you get all of it,” he grins, sick and twisted, “what do you say?”

You swallow, forcing down a moan. “Thank you?”

He nods. “Correct.”

He cleans himself as best as he can with napkins thrown carelessly into the glove box earlier that morning, almost sad to see the lip gloss stains go.

“Is that it?” You ask, your voice is barely above a whisper. You look nervously at Charlie, playing with your skirt, pulling it down, trying to hide your skin. “You won't tell my dad, right?” He stays quiet, the silence bringing back that uncomfortable twisting in your stomach. “Charlie?”

“No, I won't,” he answers, finally, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “but let this be a lesson, okay? My favours don't come for free, kid, you wanna be dumb and get yourself caught, remember this is gonna happen every time you call for my help.”

“Believe me, I won't be doing it again.” You scramble to get your heels and back from the back seat.

“I'll be seeing you this weekend, right?” He asks, watching you open the door, stopping you as you try to slip out. Your dad's birthday dinner. “What does he prefer? Bourbon or whiskey?” You glance back at him. How could he just act like what just happened hadn't happened? “I wouldn't want to get him the wrong present.”

“Bourbon,” you mumble, looking away, “he drinks bourbon. Can I go now?”

He flashes you a smile. “Of course, goodnight, kid.”

eddie tuts, weaving his fingers in your hair and scratching softly at your scalp. "she's fine, v, there's nothing wrong with her." he murmurs, allowing you to nestle your cheek into his collarbone, shoulders still quaking.

"then why is she crying? did you hurt her?" his voice morphs into an angry one as he twists to find eddie, teeth baring. you shake your head this time, twisting to find a comfortable position on his lap. "he didn't hurt me, it's okay," you warble.

venom's features soften as you suck in tentative breaths. "just get a little sensitive some times, that's all," you whimper. "i don't mean to, it.. it just happens sometimes.. i dunno."

eddie coos, smearing his lips over your brow. "that's okay, honey," he placates. "you don't have to know, hm? but we're here with you, baby, you're safe."

venom nods, or you assume he does so. "is someone going to hurt her? why does she need to feel safe? i will kill anyone who does not-"

there’s a smile in jack’s voice, you can feel it despite not being able to turn your head. it warps his voice plain as day, topping it off with the tone he uses when he feels like messing with you. no doubt further garnished with the ghost of a smirk.

when you try to speak, jack gifts you a particularly deep thrust. nudging his hips all the way against your ass, he presses until you squirm and forget how to form a sentence all over again.

“what was that?” jack asks with a fake frown, leaning a little to peek at your face. “couldn’t hear you, gorgeous. gotta speak up. use your words.”

feeling particularly cruel, jack drags his cock out of you until his head is all that remains inside you, pretending like he’s gonna give you a chance to at least try and string together a few coherent words. then plunging right back into your heat and keeping the pace with wet smacks of skin and a delighted groan.

you sound out at the feeling, not quite how you mean to but it’s all the same to the man who sinks his entire weight onto you during every thrust.

your wails force a little smile onto jack’s lips. he still got your head secured to the bed as he fucks you with even, milking strokes. panting but remaining in near perfect form.

“that’s more like it, see? i mean, i still can’t understand you but at least i get to hear that pretty voice.”

you can’t help but get louder when you come and instead of stopping, jack releases your head and slinks an arm around the front of your shoulder. fully anchoring you to the mattress with a collapse of his figure against yours and hugging you close. pounding you with messy strokes and grunted rasps at the side of your ear.

when he feels himself getting close, jack falls into the old habit of parroting whatever sobbed curses slip from you. loving the game.

“j-jack, fuck—”

“oh, ‘jack, fuuuck—what’s wrong? what is it, huh? need me or somethin’?”

“harder, please—ah.”

“‘harder, harder,’ you sure, baby? should be careful what you ask for…”

jack does it for you anyway, and loses himself a little at the feeling. surfing on the sound of your moans and eyes rolling at the hot, tightening feeling just below his stomach.

when he breaks, it’s beautiful. noises are coming from both of you now as jack drags another orgasm from your shaking body that weaves well with his own. his cock gushes and spurts for longer than he expects, cum filling you as much as it can before spilling out of you and around the base of his cock. he doesn’t stop—he can’t stop—until you’re both far past breathless and completely spent.

in the haze, jack manages to maneuver and press a wet kiss into your ear before sagging back into you. mumbling something like give him a few minutes ‘n then he’ll flip you over. clean you up.

You’ve never discussed the rules (Robby’s rules, at least), but they go like this:

Only when all three of you are present.

Only for relief, when there’s a plausible excuse.

Only when Robby can’t touch.

It’s a scene you’ve played out many times before, but this is how this one goes:

The two of you (yourself and Jack) shuck off each other’s clothes. You’re antsy, and normally you’d demand his cock as soon as his shirt hit the floor, but today you have an audience. Jack wants to take his time, and you know that Robby likes to see everything. In lieu of contact, he’ll take the sight of muscles straining under flushed skin. 

You and Jack sit up on the bed, Jack below you as you grind against his thigh. Jack’s punishing grip on your hips forces a slow pace. You pretend not to notice the voyeur in the room, sitting in the chair to the side, but you can feel the force of his eyes on your bodies.

Suddenly, Jack jerks his knee upwards, destabilizing your rhythm. You gasp as the motion makes you fall forward, and you just barely catch yourself, hands planted on his firm chest. You frown down at him, but the look he gives back is so condescendingly sweet that you barely catch his next words.

“Isn’t my girl so pretty?”

He’s talking to Robby, treating you like you’re not even there. The dismissal makes a shock of heat pool in your lower stomach. Robby inhales sharply. 

You sneak a peek at him. His legs are spread wide, bulge becoming increasingly obvious. A glass of whiskey hangs from his hand, dangling before he takes a sip. You’re like his own private show. Your eyes darken as he fixates on the way your tits are pressed against Jack’s chest. His gaze shoots up to meet yours only briefly before going back down. He grinds the heel of his other hand into his crotch, groaning as Jack makes you start moving again.

“Yeah, real fuckin’ pretty,” he grunts.

Jack’s hand grabs your chin, turning you back to face him. 

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You nod, the movement hindered by his grip. You’re already falling into a hazy mindset, spurred on by the way Jack completely controls your body. It reminds you of the way he moves around the ER: pure unthreatened confidence earned by years of experience.

“Don’t look at him. Not yet.”

You hum in agreement. Jack smiles.

“Good girl.”

Both your and Robby’s voices sound out into the air, matching moans, but you follow the rules. You don’t look over.

Jack captures your lips in a searing kiss, one hand on the back of your skull, guiding you every which way he wants. Jack’s tongue thrusts into your mouth, immediately overwhelming. Your fingers comb through his salt and pepper hair as if searching for an anchor point to keep you attached to the world. His other hand slowly slides from your hip to the base of your spine, two fingers pushing down gently. You take the silent correction in stride, arching your back to give Robby a better view as you move against Jack, chasing friction against his thigh.

In the quiet of the bedroom, you hear a belt buckle being undone, metal clinking open, and leather slipping aside. Swiftly following is more fabric rustling, then the distinctive sound of a zipper being dragged down.

Jack pulls away for a moment, mouth red and wet as you both breathe heavily. He dives back in, moving your head up as he trails open-mouthed kisses along your neck. You want to look over. You know how big Robby’s cock is, even if you haven’t had the pleasure of feeling it. You know how wet he gets. You could sneak a peek at where you now hear slick, rhythmic sounds. You don’t. 

Jack bites hard on your shoulder. Your face screws up in pain, and you gasp, looking down at him. Jack’s gaze, however, is fixed across the slope of your nape, eyes locked (you assume) on Robby. In your shock, you had dug your nails into his shoulders and now released him. Small, red crescent moons remain, and you know they’ll leave marks tomorrow. Jack keeps teasing the skin between his teeth, but his eyes never move from Robby. He detaches for just a moment to grab the curve of your ass.

“Up,” he commands, whispering against your ear.

You raise your hips and feel the press of Jack between your thighs.

“Down.”

The breath is punched from your lungs as you sink slowly onto his cock, the stretch perfect. Every time you have sex, it’s like you realize suddenly how empty you’d felt, how much you craved the feeling of him inside you. Although you’re plenty wet, it takes a while to get him fully inside. He’s got an average length, but he’s thick, and the stretch teeters on the edge of burning. You whimper a bit when you finally bottom out, rolling your hips in tiny, short motions to get used to the sensation. Jack gives you the time to settle in, his thumb lazily drawing circles around your clit. Finally, you lift again until there’s just the tip, waiting for his nod, then you sink back down. You start riding him in earnest, already plenty worked up. 

“That’s it, pretty girl. Come on, sweetheart. You’ve got it.”

You keen at the terms of endearment. All you can feel is his length inside of you, his hands touching you, setting the pace, and his raspy voice in your ear urging you closer and closer to orgasm. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder, nails digging into his chest as you rise and fall. 

“Yeah, nice and deep, just like that. Put on a good show,” Jack continues. 

The room fills with your moaning and the sound of skin against skin and it’s just too much. He’s hitting all the right parts inside of you, hitting those deep points that you just can’t reach yourself. You gasp, about to warn Jack that you’re close, but you’re interrupted by Robby.

“Fuck, do you always sound this needy when you’re being fucked?” He sounds absolutely breathless, like it’s his cock you’re bouncing on. 

Yes, the answer is yes, and he knows that. You know that he knows that. 

Jack groans, then laughs. 

“You already know the answer, friend. You already know how messy and fucked out our girl gets, don’t you?”

Our girl. Our girl. Our girl. 

The words reverberate in your head, filling it up until it’s all you can think about. You move faster and start to hear inhuman noises that might just be you. 

“Fucking hell, Jack,” Robby says, his hand moving faster to match your punishing pace. He sounds absolutely wrecked, and you want so badly to be allowed to look, to see him as he comes. You want to be between them, pressure and pleasure from all sides. 

“Jack,” you choke out. “I’m gonna– I need to…fuck! I’m gonna come, Jack.”

He pulls your head back from his shoulder and kisses you like he needs it to breathe. He pulls back and, eyes boring into yours, instructs you one last time. 

“Look at Robby when you come.”

Your heart stutters in your chest at the permission, battling between euphoria, shame, and arousal. You nod, still moving and so close, then Jack grabs your chin between his index and thumb and turns your head, forcing you to look. You make eye contact with Robby and only have a split second to take in the sight of the older man, chest heaving and hand working furiously over his weeping cock, before you’re clenching around Jack and coming the hardest you have in months. 

You lose track of time, caught in the resounding waves of pleasure, but when you come back it’s to the feeling of Jack pounding into your tight heat until he comes deep inside. You shudder through the last remnants of your orgasm, shivering at the familiar sensation of his come starting to drip out of you. You look over to Robby and, with some disappointment, realize he’s already come on his chest. There’s a lot of it. There always is. You pout a bit, an indulgent, petulant thing. 

“I didn’t get to see you come,” you sigh. 

The two men laugh at you. 

“Give me like twenty minutes, and you might get another chance.”

The heat of the moment makes you bold. 

“Fifteen minutes and this time you actually fuck me.”

Robby and Jack look at each other above your head, one face surprised and the other not. Jack lays a possessive hand on your ass, grinding you further into him. All three of you inhale sharply, but then he lifts you off of him. He settles further back into the pillows and gestures for you to lie on your back between his legs. Robby watches, transfixed. 

“Well, friend, if you’re going to fuck her, then the least you could do is clean up our girl.”

“Yeah, baby you like that? You like being used?” Peter croons, rocking his hips into your own with such a fervor that the muscles of your abdomen are taught with the effort it takes to refrain from cumming right then and there.

“Y-Yeah,” You whine, a thick fog settling over your mind’s eye as he ruts into you like you’re a bitch in heat, the smooth planes of his abdominal muscles brushing against your backside with each deep thrust.

You’re on your left side, your left leg sprawled out on the mattress while Peter holds onto your right, his deft fingers melding bruises into the flesh of your thigh as he wreaks havoc on your pussy. “Take my cock, you filthy whore.”

It’s surprising, in complete honesty, how quickly his demeanor can transition from the sweet, happy-go-lucky boy everyone knows to this dominating persona that can be pulled out of nowhere.

But you’re not complaining as you babble on, gently jutting forward on the mattress with each deep pounding into your cunt, the defined curvature of his pelvic bone snapping against your thigh with such precision that you can feel an indent forming in the supple flesh.

“F-Fuck..” You whine as the tip of his cock creates exquisite friction against the spongy section of your inner walls that have fireworks parading across your line of vision.

His arms wind tighter around your right thigh as his hips snap into yours at a faster pace, the little tufts of hair that make up his happy trail dragging across your exposed clit and pulling you closer and closer to your forthcoming orgasm.

It’s a light at the end of the tunnel, the blotted luminescence dull at first and growing brighter with each piston of Peter’s hips into your slick heat. You’re so slick due to his rough ministrations that in addition to the exotic, audible sound of your skin slapping together, there’s a soft squelch as he fucks you into his mattress.

May is gone for the day, leaving the two of you to watch some old Star Wars movies, as such is what you told her was your plans when she departed to go to work, but now you’re slipping and you’re slipping fast.

“Want it so bad. Please, Pete, I have to-” You mewl quietly as you clench desperately around him, your fourth orgasm so suddenly glaringly bright against your closed lids.

“Take it.” Peter seethes through clenched teeth as he rocks into you. “Cum for me, yeah? Give it to me.” He grunts, reaching down with his left hand to thumb figure eights against your stiff bundle of nerves.

You allow a near-pornographic moan to slip from your tongue as white-hot heat washes over you, blanketing you in ten shades of exaltation until every part of you is trembling, from your head all the way down to your toes. 

But the brunet is far from done; he’s still chasing his own orgasm with such fortitude that you’re practically begging him to give you some respite. Peter, however, doesn’t relent, knowing full well that you’re to use your safe word if dire circumstances call for such.

You’re reaching down with feeble fingers, your fingertips merely dancing across the sharp, muscled line that narrows down to his pelvis in a desperate effort for him to stop his torture on your cunt. “T-Too much!” You slur, the pleasure from your previous orgasm bleeding into a relative affliction that’s blossoming in the pit of your belly with every rough thrust.

“You’re gonna take it. Stop whining, you filthy thing. You begged for this, so stop talking.” Peter groans, his left hand now leaving your clit to drag up your torso.

With his enhanced ability has come enhanced stamina, and thus he could go for hours if oversensitivity was merely a concept, but alas it’s not, and here he is trying to get at least one more out of you while he achieves his own.

His slender fingers are curling around your jugular, the pad of his calloused thumb pressing into the sensitive vein running alongside your windpipe while he fucks into you.

“S’all you’re good for, hmm? Just my little plaything to fuck. Just a set of holes to satisfy me when I’m feeling horny.” Peter snarks as the coil in his belly begins to tighten tenfold.

You wish the words wouldn’t hit with such impact in the way that they do right now, but you’re doing your best to be the good girl when inside, you’re feeling a little bummy. Those little bouts of discomfort that are blooming inside your tummy are transitioning once again into euphoria as Peter lulls yet a fifth orgasm from you.

It’s not as explosive as the previous four Peter has managed to pull from you, but it hits just nearly as hard, with such explosive fortitude that you’re quite almost writhing underneath your boyfriend’s balmy touch. And with one last, final thrust against your overworked pussy he’s spilling inside the condom he wears.

He still pulls out, however, worried that with the euphoria that bleeds throughout his appendages that his cum spill out of the rubber. “Fuck.” 

He’s back to the Peter you’ve come to know and love, his voice cracking with the strain of his vocal cords.

You release a whine with the sudden vacancy of his thick girth inside you as you turn over onto your belly, pressing yourself as close as possible into the soft mattress.

“What do you say?” Peter manages to breathe out as he rises from the bed, slipping off and disposing of the rubber as his chest heaves from the after-effects of such arduous intercourse.

“Thank you.” You murmur before you can hear the patter of feet behind you as Peter momentarily departs to go find a washcloth to clean you up, but in your bleary mindset, you’re terrified that he’s leaving forever, for you’ve been a very bad girl.

You slip off of the twin mattress, forcing yourself to brace your weight against his bedside table as you attempt to follow after him. You don’t say anything, worried that Peter will only grow frustrated with the sound of your voice. 

But when the lanky boy returns, a pair of checkered boxers pulled taught over his hips, and a warm cloth in hand, he scrambles over quickly, desperately trying to get you back onto the mattress. “Hey hey hey.” His voice cracks once again as he lulls you back. “What are you doing standing up, pretty girl?” 

“Thought you were leaving.” You blubber through a discontented whine, bracing yourself against the smooth muscles of his shoulders as he gently gets you to lie flat on your back. 

“Why would I leave, baby?” He inquires innocently as he smooths the warm cloth over your thighs with a gentle sigh. 

“Thought I was a bad girl. Just wanna be a good girl,” You whine quietly as you latch onto his forearm, digging crescent moons into the flesh as you desperately hang on with every bout of your strength. 

Such strength barely phases the boy as his lips downturn into a sympathetic frown. “You slipping, my love? What’s wrong?” Pivoting in his spot, he sticks out an open palm to webshoot an old t-shirt hanging over his computer chair. Once he’s retrieved it, he slips it over your head, aiding in pulling your arms through the sleeves before he presses a soft kiss upon the tip of your nose. 

“I’m not slipping.” You retaliate with a soft frown, eyebrows furrowing with frustration for such a comment. “I’m fine. I just didn’t want you to leave.” You grumble, rolling your eyes at the accusation. 

Peter snorts, despite his best ability to refrain from doing so as he rolls his eyes. “Alright then, are you going to get mad if I try and -” He rises once again. 

“No! Don’t leave.” You whine, tugging him back onto the mattress. 

Peter only hums affectionately, allowing you to crawl onto his thick thighs and nose into his clavicle. “C’mon then, darling, come back for me. You’re alright. You did so well for me.” 

“I don’t wanna just be a cum slut for you to use.” You whimper into the junction between his collarbone and jugular, sniffing to keep the foreboding tears at bay. 

“Baby, you’re so much more to me than that. You mean so much to me, yeah? You’re my good girl, yeah? You always make me feel ways that no one else can. You’re so good, darling.” The freckled boy coos quietly, burying his fingers in your tresses and slowly massaging at your scalp to calm you down a bit. 

You nod languidly into his neck, sniffing once again. “You promise?” 

“Baby, you’re my best girl. No one makes me feel the way you do.” 

You pull away, the tears having fallen despite your efforts against such and you watch as your boyfriend’s bottom lip juts out in a show of worry. 

“Pretty girl,” He muses, drawing the pads of his thumbs over your rouging cheekbones to rid of the fallen tears before he encases your cheeks with his palms and pulls you closer so he can slot his lips over your own. “You’re everything to me. I promise with my whole heart.” 

“Your whole heart?” 

“My whole heart.”