ruinous

ONE HAND PUSHES THE DOOR OPEN, slow enough to anticipate the crowd today. Heads turn as you walk in, and it's not even dramatic anymore. It's routine. Conversations stop and eyes drag toward you like they don't have a choice. It's heavy, but you're used to it by now.

Somewhere to your left, someone lets out a low whistle that gets a few others to follow.

"There she is!"

"Came just in time."

Your boots hit the floor with purpose, your footsteps heavy against the wood. It's a part of the performance and you weren't ashamed of it. If they liked it, then you loved it.

The lights are dim now, except for the center of the room where the mechanical bull sits under a gold spotlight. It gleams just enough to draw attention, but it's nothing without you there.

The closer you get, the louder the room becomes, hollering and shouting your name like a cult. As you get inside the ring, everyone crowds around, some leaning forward on the rail already watching you like they're going to miss it if they blink.

Music starts playing, meaning it was time. You hook your fingers under the hem of your oversized shirt, tugging it slightly as the bull starts to move. It starts slow, and you move with it, hips following like it's second nature.

You pull your shirt up higher, letting the crowd react to every bit of skin you reveal. The crowd goes wild and the bull starts to move faster, making your hips sway almost suggestively.

Suddenly, you throw your shirt into the crowd, smiling at the guys fighting like dogs for it even though you sat there basically half-naked in only a bra and denim shorts.

After a few moments, your gaze drifts. It's not intentional, just a flicker outward trying to get a glimpse of everyone's faces.

Then you see him.

In the back of the bar, he sits there like he's not part of it at all. He's mindlessly drinking his beer, watching from afar like it was just another day. He doesn't shout, doesn't lean forward, doesn't have his hands raised trying to get your attention.

Even though he's casually enjoying his drink, his eyes are on you. They're not greedy like the other men, but focused like he's studying you.

The bull jerks harder underneath you, snapping you back into reality, but it's different. Everytime you spun around, your gaze immediately falls on him.

By the time the ride slows to a stop, the energy in the room has already calmed down. The music fades and the bull stops as the crowd erupts one last time. You slide off the bull with practiced ease, brushing your hair back over your shoulder like it's nothing. Giving your thanks, the crowd filters out the bar and back home to their wives.

You hum softly as the bar owner, Jay, walks over, dragging you toward the bar where he hands you a jacket.

"Looks like you got a bigger crowd tonight," he mutters, counting the money he owes you. "Do that again tomorrow and you'll be rich in no time."

You chuckle at the compliment, grabbing the money from him and putting it in your back pocket. Most of the tables are empty now, only with a few drunk stragglers finishing their beers.

But in the back, he's still there.

He stands from his seat, adjusting his jacket slightly before making his way towards you. Your finger taps lightly against the counter as you watch him approach, but just before he gets close enough, he stops.

He leans in slightly toward Jay, saying something low and quiet. You couldn't quite catch it, but Jay's brows lift just a fraction, eyes flicking toward you for a split second before returning to him.

Jay walks over to you, a bit flushed. "That man, Sunghoon, he's asking for a private show. Offered two hundred."

Your expression doesn't change. You don't even look at him right away.

"No."

It comes out easier than expected.

"Not tonight."

Jay sighs lightly, like he anticipated that answer, but before he can respond, you feel it. You look past him, seeing the way Sunghoon looks at you with darker eyes now, desperate.

Your breath catches just slightly.

"Fine."

Jay barely hides his smirk. You don't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, you step past him and walk towards Sunghoon.

"DId you enjoy tonight?" your voice light, almost teasing. For a second, he doesn't answer. He just looks at you, up close and personal.

The corner of his mouth lifts. "I would've," he says, voice low.

Your brows lift slightly. "Would've?"

His eyes flick down, lingering on your breasts peeking from beneath the jacket.

"Would've enjoyed it more," he corrects, taking a smaller step forward, "if you gave me a private show."

It lands exactly how he intends to. It wasn't rushed or pushy. Certain.

Your lips part just slightly, surprised, but you tilt your head as a soft scoff slips out.

"Most people just throw a few dollars and hope I look their way," you point out, voice light, almost amused. "You skipped a few steps."

HIs gaze doesn't waver, lips tightening. "I don't need to."

Your eyes narrow, smile creeping on your face. A moment passes before you look around the bar, watching as the employees begin clearing tables, wiping down surfaces, and stacking chairs.

"Looks like the bar's closing," you hum, pushing lightly off your heel. "Maybe tomorrow."

You turn slightly like you're done with the conversation.

"I'll end my show early for you."

It's a tease, seeing if he'd push further, but you also didn't want to entertain the idea tonight.

"Nah."

You pause, glancing over your shoulder. Your brows lift, unimpressed.

He holds your gaze. “Follow me.”

Before you can protest, he’s already moving toward the exit. Your lips part, a soft laugh slipping out as you watch him take a few steps and then stop. Sunghoon glances back at you over his shoulder, just enough to check.

You don’t move right away, hesitating for a beat. Then you let out a quiet breath and push off to follow him anyway. The corner of his mouth twitches—barely—but he turns and picks up his pace again as you fall in behind him.

The door swings open, and it’s quieter outside. The noise from the bar fades instantly, replaced by the cool night air and the low hum of the street.

He stops, turning just enough to glance at you. “My place,” he says simply. “It’s nearby.”

You scoff under your breath, stepping past him this time as he gestures down the street. “Hope you’re not wasting my time.”

For the first time, he lets out a chuckle.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The walk is short. Just a few buildings over, tucked away from the main strip. His place sits back from the street, quieter, more private. He moves like he’s done this a thousand times. Calm and unhurried like he already knows how this goes.

He unlocks the door and steps inside without looking back, just expecting you to follow. The door clicks shut behind you and the silence settles in almost immediately.

Sunghoon doesn’t linger near the entrance. He walks further in as he turns on the jukebox, shrugging off his jacket as he goes before dropping onto the couch. His legs spread slightly, one arm resting along the back of the couch, head tilting just enough as his eyes land on you again.

“You gonna stand there all night,” he murmurs, voice low, even, “or are you finally gonna start?”

You stay where you are for a second, glancing around his place before your eyes land back on him. A slow smile creeps onto your lips.

“What am I supposed to ride?” you ask lightly, tilting your head. “There’s no bull here.”

For the first time since you walked in, you felt a sudden rush of embarrassment. He leans forward just slightly, elbows resting on his knees, eyes never leaving yours.

“Guess you'll have to improvise."

The words hang in the air, leaving you stunned. Your tongue presses lightly against your cheek as you study him. He was relaxed, sitting there like he has all the time in the world.

His eyes stay locked on you, following every moment as you step closer but stopping just enough for him to look up at you. You push him back onto the couch, his eyes slightly widening at the bold move. Then, you straddle his lap.

"Giddy up, Cowboy."

Sunghoon's hands land on your waist, fingers slightly pressing against you as his eyes flicker down to the way your thighs rub against his hips. A low huff of amusement leaves him.

Without hesitating, you grind your hips slowly, mimicking the way you sway on top of the mechanical bull when it moves. His jaw tightens the moment you start, hands now resting on your thighs, fingers digging into you.

He watches the roll of your hips with heavy-lidded eyes, hips slightly twitching underneath you. You began to grind faster, setting a steady pace as he rolls his own to meet you halfway. The room fills with the quiet music, the sounds of fabric rustling beneath it.

You let out a shaken breath when his lips press open-mouthed kisses along your neck. Your hips grind harder, feeling his erection beneath the denim of his jeans.

A low groan escapes his lips, head falling back against the cushion when you lean forward. The angle was different and impossible for him to stay calm. Without getting a moment to breath, Sunghoon's lips were on yours.

The kiss is messy and desperate, all tongue and teeth as his hands slide under your jacket. He needs to touch bare skin; the barrier of the denim wasn't doing it for him. The grind of your hips doesn't stop—if anything, it gets more aggressive as the kiss deepens.

You pull away to unzip your jacket and you don't miss the way Sunghoon's eyes flick open briefly to watch you, his breath catching at the sight of you in a bra again.

His fingers dig into your backside as he begins to buck his hips. The denim of the jeans are rough against your sensitive areas, and you moan quietly.

"Fuck, you do this for other guys?"

You shake your head as his lips find your neck again, trailing down and stopping right where your bra sits. "Never."

Sunghoon smirks against your skin, fingers finding the clasp of your bra. For a moment, he fumbles with it before completely undoing it. He leans back just enough to peel the fabric down your shoulders, his eyes darkening when your tits are in full view.

His gaze lingers on you for a beat before he captures one nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. The sudden sensation makes you gasp, hips stuttering against him. He hums in approval, vibrations sending shocks through you as he alternates between biting and sucking.

"Fucking gorgeous," he growls against your skin, his face buried between your cleavage. "Those men won't know you're gonna ride me tonight, right?"

He knows exactly what he's doing. Your lips part, then closes without a response.

"That's what I thought," he whispers, giving your nipples one last pinch before grabbing your hips forcefully, stopping your slow grinding. "Now ride me like you did with that bull."

You nod, standing up and unizzping your shorts. They drop down, leaving you in only your soaked panties. He looked at you, top to bottom, before reaching forward and hooking his fingers into the wasitband and pulls them down your legs to leave you completely naked for him.

Sunghoon doesn't give you a moment to feel his gaze on you. Instead, he grips your waist and pulls you back down onto his lap, your core sliding against the rough denim of his jeans. The friction is immediate and overwhelming, your hips twitching.

"So fucking wet already, huh?" he mutters, lifting your hips to see the way a small wet mark is left on him. You whine when his hands slide between your bodies to drag a finger slowly through your slick folds. He then stops before you could react.

"C'mon now."

You knew what he meant, but with the constant teasing, you don't even know if you could handle whatever he's hiding underneath those jeans.

He sits back again, waiting for you to start. You sit back on his thighs, hands traveling down his chest and stopping right at the waistband of his jeans. He watches you with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you fumble with his belt. The leather slides off easily, followed by the button and zipper of his jeans.

Your hands tremble slightly as Sunghoon lifts his hips, allowing you to push the denim down just enough to free his hard length. It was already leaking at the tip, thick and heavy in your pal when you wrap your fingers around it.

Sunghoon lets out a low groan when you wrap your hand around his dick, squeezing gently to test the waters. The sound makes you bite your lip, knowing exactly what you're doing to him. He doesn't rush you, only leaning back with one head behind his head like he's enjoying the show.

Just as desperate, you finally line him up with your entrance, hovering over for a moment before slowly sinking down. The head pops in easily, but then it hits you. He's big—bigger—than any toy or partner you've had before.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you try to take more. He notices the struggle and grips your hips firmly, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "Relax for me, yeah? You can take it."

He urges you down a fraction more, the stretch burning deliciously as your walls flutter around him. Once you bottom out, you start grinding.

The sensation is overwhelming. The way your tight heat squeezes him, the friction of your clit against his pelvic bone with every roll. His hands slide up your sides to palm your breasts, thumbs flicking over your hard nipples.

You watch as his head falls back against the cushion when you find a rhythm, your body moving instinctively against his. One hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you harder against him with each thrust.

"Look at you being so fucking perfect," he praises, his voice breathy. "I don't have to imagine being that stupid mechanical bull anymore."

A loud moan escapes your lips when he thrusts up, hitting deeper than you could've imagined. You clench around him, movements becoming more desperate.

"Glad you don't have to think about that anymore," you moan, leaning down to bite his neck. He groans loudly when you bite him, his hands squeezing your ass possessively. His thrusts starts to become erratic and deep, picking up the pace when you couldn't anymore.

You were already seeing stars, loving the way he hits you perfectly, but also too much. Your head rests on his shoulder, but then he pushes you back, making you rest your palms on his knees behind you.

A loud, almost pornographic moan leaves you at the new angle. His thick length grinds directly against your sweet spot with each upward thrust. You're practically sobbing with pleasure, and anyone who was close enough to his place could hear you from outside.

"Don't move," he commands, his voice rough with lust. His hips piston up into you relestlessly.

Sunghoon's thumb finds your clit and starts rubbing in tight circles in the same place his cock pounds into you. The dual sensation is too much. Your body convulses and fall forward, your inner walls clamping down violently around his cock as a loud, broken sob escapes you.

"Sunghoon, I'm close," you moan in his ear, hoping he'd get you there soon. He angles his hips just right, hitting that spot inside you over and over again until the knot inside you snaps. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave as you clench tightly around his cock.

And still, he's going.

You whimper, your overstimulated body twitching with each continued thrust of his cock.

"Too much, Sunghoon," you babble incoherently, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body starts to give out. He ignores your pleas, his hands wrapping around your waist to pull you back into position as he continues to thrust into you mercilessly.

Another wave of pleasure washes over you for the second time, feeling his thick cream shoot inside you and cover your swollen walls. He lets out a quiet moan as he empties every last drop inside you, his cock pulsing and twitching with each hot spurt. His hips stutter to a stop, still buried deep inside you.

"Holy fuck," he breathes, his voice low and satisfied.

You walk into the bar the next day, ready for another night of performances. For some reason, it feels different.

You swing your leg over the bull, settling into place as whistles and cheers rise around you. The lights hit just right, the rhythm familiar as your body moves with the machine like it always has.

But this time you know where to look.

Your gaze drifts almost immediately to the back, and it feels like hitting the jackpot. Sunghoon sits there like he owns the spot, drink in hand, unbothered as ever. Just watching.

Your lips curve slightly before you look away, the bull jerking sharply beneath you. It picks up speed, the movement rougher—but you barely notice.

Because when you glance back, he's already lifting his glass in your direction, the faintest smirk pulling at his lips.

You know exactly how this night will end.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You turn it over between your fingers. The candlelight catches on its edges, casting small flickering shadows across the sheets you have kicked into a tangled mess at the foot of the bed.

You cannot sleep.

This is not unusual. Sleep has never come easily in this palace, in this room that is yours only in the way a gilded cage belongs to the bird inside it. But tonight the restlessness is different. Tonight it has a shape, a name you keep pressing your tongue against the roof of your mouth to keep from whispering aloud.

Rafayel.

You close your eyes and your chest tightens like something is cinching around your ribs, like the air in the room has gone thin and hot and you are breathing through it too fast. The fishtail beacon pulses against your palm. You set it down on the table near your bed. Pick it up again. Set it down. Your hand hovers over it, fingers curling and uncurling, and your pulse thuds dully in your wrists and the base of your throat.

He gave it to you three weeks ago. Pressed it into your hand on the rooftop overlooking the dunes, his gloved fingers lingering against yours for two seconds longer than necessary, his eyes unreadable above the dark line of his mask. “This’ll connect me to you,” he told you, and the laziness in his voice didn’t match the intention of his hands, the way he folded your fingers over it one by one. “No matter where you are. You squeeze that, I’ll know to come to you.”

You asked him why. He tilted his head, and even with half his face hidden you could see the smirk pulling at the corner of his eyes. “Maybe I just get bored easily, princess.”

That is the thing you learned about Rafayel. Everything is a deflection. Every sincere gesture wrapped in three layers of teasing, every vulnerability dressed up as indifference, every act of devotion disguised as convenience. He showed up on your balcony the night you nearly drowned in the canal during your ninety-ninth escape attempt, pulled you out of the water by the back of your dress with one hand while the other held a blade still wet with someone else’s blood, and when you gasped up at him, choking and shivering, he looked down at you like you were an inconvenience he had not budgeted for.

“You got a death wish or something?” he drawled, and the mask muffled the lower half of his voice into something dark and velvet. “Cause if you’re gonna keep throwing yourself into rivers I’m gonna need a heads up.”

You called him Abysswalker because he would not give you his name. The way his eyes flickered, sharp and startled, before the indifference slid back into place. You did not understand then why the name struck him like that. You still do not fully understand now. But you remember the way his jaw tightened behind the mask, the way he exhaled slowly through his nose, and the way he finally, reluctantly, gave you his real name just to make you stop.

That was weeks ago. He has been a constant since.

Not constant in the way of something reliable or predictable, nothing about Rafayel is predictable, but constant in the way of something you cannot stop being aware of. He appears on your balcony at odd hours, never announced, always with an excuse. He sprawls across your furniture like the concept of personal space is a quaint human custom he has chosen not to observe. He picks up your things, examines them with exaggerated curiosity, puts them back in the wrong places. He calls you ‘Your Highness’ with enough irony to fill a cathedral, and sometimes, when he forgets to perform, he calls you ‘Princess’ in a voice so quiet it barely clears the space between you, and the word sounds like something else entirely.

You have memorized him in pieces without meaning to. The way the candlelight catches on the row of silver piercings climbing his ear when his hood falls back. The sharp line of his jaw above the mask, the only inch of his face he allows you. His hands, always gloved, leather worn soft at the knuckles, and the way they move when he talks, lazy and expressive, mapping the air between you with confidence that could dip into arrogance. 

You know the sound of his breathing when he is amused. The slower cadence of it when he is thinking. The way it hitches, just barely, when you catch him off guard with something honest, and the fraction of a second it takes him to recover before the smirk slides back into place.

You know he is hiding something. There’s something like a mark on his chest, the one you have only glimpsed twice. He adjusts his clothes whenever he catches you looking. He changes the subject. He deflects.

And you know, with the kind of certainty that sits in your bones like something you were born with, that he is not here by accident. That whatever brought him to your city, whatever mission lives behind those unreadable eyes, it involves you. Your heart. The heart that is not really yours, the one that belongs to Philos and its people and whatever divine purpose decided before your birth that your chest would house something too valuable for you to claim as your own.

Everyone wants your heart. You have known this since you were old enough to understand why they kept you locked in this palace, why they dressed you in silk and called you princess and never once asked what you wanted. Your heart sustains the planet. Your heart grants immortality. Your heart, your heart, your heart.

Not you. Never you.

And Rafayel... you do not know what Rafayel wants. That is what keeps you awake at three in the morning turning the fishtail beacon over and over in your hands like a rosary, your pulse hammering against the skin of your wrist, your mind replaying the same scene on a merciless loop.

The ruins. Four nights ago.

He had taken you to the sand dunes beyond the city, the ones that stretch endlessly under a sky so vast and dark you could feel the weight of it pressing down on your shoulders. The ruins of something ancient jutted from the sand like the bones of a creature too massive to comprehend, and he walked through them with the familiarity of someone who has walked through them a thousand times, his coat trailing behind him, his hand loose at his side.

You stumbled on a crumbled stairway, your foot catching on stone that shifted beneath you, and he moved faster than you could process, his arm around your waist, your back flush against his chest, and the world stilled.

His hand spread wide across your stomach, fingers pressing gently through the fabric of your dress. His breath was warm against the shell of your ear, filtering through the mask, and you could feel his chest expand against your spine with each slow inhale. You were not in danger. The stairway was three steps high. You would have scraped your knee at most.

He did not let go.

“Be careful, Your Highness.” he murmured, and his voice was so close you felt it vibrate through the bones of your skull more than you heard it with your ears.

You stood there, his arm locked around you, the heat of his body seeping into every point of contact, and something inside your chest cracked open like a door you had been leaning against for weeks finally giving way. Your fingers drifted upward, almost involuntarily, reaching toward the edge of his mask where it met the line of his jaw, and his free hand caught your wrist.

Not roughly. His thumb rested against your pulse point and his grip was gentle and his hand was shaking.

The silence lasted three seconds. Maybe four. Long enough for you to feel the thunder of his heartbeat against your shoulder blade, fast and hard and completely at odds with the steadiness of his hands. Long enough for the heat between your bodies to become something you could taste at the back of your throat, sweet and metallic and dizzying.

Then a sound in the distance, the scrape of sand shifting, an animal or the wind or nothing at all, and he released you. Stepped back. Adjusted his mask. Shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Watch your step next time,” he offered, and his voice was perfectly, infuriatingly casual.

You did not speak about it. You walked back to the palace in silence and he left through the balcony and you pressed your forehead against the cool stone of the wall and breathed and breathed and breathed until the trembling in your hands subsided.

It did not subside.

It has not subsided since.

You pick up the fishtail beacon again, restless. The heat of it seeps into your palm, travels up through your wrist, settles in the center of your chest where that cursed heart of yours beats too fast for a girl who is supposed to be sleeping. You think of his hand across your stomach. The vibration of his voice against your ear. The shaking of his fingers around your wrist and the way his pulse betrayed every lie his voice tried to tell.

You squeeze the beacon.

Not by accident. Not impulsively. You look at it, you feel the warmth of it, and you close your fist around it with the full and terrifying knowledge of what you are doing. You are calling him. At three in the morning, in a thin nightdress, with your hair loose and your chamber a mess and no excuse prepared and nothing to offer him except the truth that you could not bear another night of pretending you do not want him here.

The beacon flares warm, then cool, then warm again, like a heartbeat answering yours.

You wait.

The balcony doors are open. The desert air drifts in carrying the dry scent of sand and the faint sweetness of night-blooming flowers that climbs the palace walls, and you are sitting on the edge of your bed with your fingers twisted in the fabric of your nightdress, your heart hammering in your ears so loudly you almost miss the sound of his landing.

Almost.

The soft scrape of boots on stone. The whisper of fabric settling. And then he is there, a silhouette framed in the balcony archway, the moonlight catching on the silver chains at his chest and the piercings in his ear, his hood pushed back, his coat open, his mask still on.

His eyes find yours across the dark room and something moves behind them, quick and unguarded before the familiar laziness slides into place like a curtain being drawn.

“You called for me, Princess?” he steps inside, and his voice carries that drawl, that slowness that makes every word sound like he is doing you a favor just by speaking.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times. Throat drier than the desert sand. “I... couldn’t sleep.”

He tilts his head. One eyebrow lifts above the line of his mask. He does not believe you. You can see it in the way his gaze drops from your face to the beacon in your hand and back again, slow and knowing, and the corner of his eyes creases with a smirk you cannot see but can feel like a physical touch across your delicate skin.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he echoes, stepping further into the room, his gloved hand trailing along the edge of your vanity, fingers tipping over a small glass bottle of perfume with exaggerated carelessness. “So you summoned the Abysswalker into your chambers in the middle of the night.”

“I didn’t summon you.” you try to lie, but it’s pointless.

“You squeezed the beacon,” he picks up one of the ribbons from your vanity, winds it around his index finger, lets it unravel. “That’s kinda what it’s for, Your Highness.”

The heat climbs up the sides of your neck. You tuck your chin, averting your gaze toward the window where the sand dunes shimmer faintly under the moon, and you feel rather than see him move closer, even if his steps are dead silent. The room is not large. Four steps and he would be at the edge of your bed.

He takes three.

“You didn’t have to come,” you manage, and your voice comes out thinner than you intended.

He is quiet for a few moments. His hand drops the ribbon. When he speaks again, the teasing has thinned just slightly, like a layer of paint wearing through to something rawer underneath.

“Yeah, well.” he shifts his weight, and his gaze slides sideways, and for a moment he looks almost uncertain. “We both know that’s not true.”

The silence stretches. You can hear the palace guards’ distant footsteps in the corridor beyond your door, the soft murmur of Natasha speaking to someone down the hall. The world outside this room, the world of duty and hearts and gilded cages, presses against the walls like water against a dam.

“Raf.” your voice is as soft as the ribbon previously swirled around his finger.

His eyes snap back to you. You have never called him that before, even though he gave you his name, you never dared call him something more intimate than it. The truncation of his name sits between you like a lit match.

You stand up from the soft mattress. The nightdress moves around your thighs, thin silk that you chose for the heat, not for him, though the way his gaze drops for a fraction of a second before jerking back up to your face makes your skin prickle with awareness and shyness. 

You want to see his face, gauge what his emotions truly convey in his expression. You cross the space between you in two steps and your hand rises slowly, your fingers reaching for the hem of his mask.

His gloved hand catches your wrist before you can fully touch it. His grip is loose, barely there, his thumb resting exactly where your pulse hammers against the thin skin.

“Your Highness.” he coos, the teasing lilt curls around the title like smoke. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You always wear it.” your voice is soft. Steady, somehow, despite the heat rushing through your veins. “Why? Are we not close enough for you to drop it, or do you simply not want me to see your face?”

His eyes search yours. For a long moment they are completely unreadable, deep and still like water that is darker than it looks, and then something shifts in them, something that is not quite amusement and not quite pain but lives in the space between.

“Maybe I’m just ugly under here,” he deflects, but the usual sharpness is missing from his voice. “Ever think about that?”

“Show me, then.”

“Why?” he tilts his head, as his thumb traces a slow circle over your pulse point that makes your breath stutter in your chest. “What’s so important about seeing my face, Princess?”

“I want to see you when you speak to me.” you hold his gaze. Your fingers hover at the edge of the dark fabric, close enough that your knuckles brush his jaw. “I want to see all of you, not only what you allow me to.”

Something flickers across his expression. A crack, hairline thin, there and gone. He exhales through his nose slowly. “You’ve seen glimpses of it before,” he murmurs. 

“Glimpses are not enough.”

The words land between you and his grip on your wrist loosens, finger by finger, until his hand falls away entirely. He doesn’t move or speak again. Just watches you with those impossible to read eyes, blue-pink ombres in the candlelight, and the silence is permission.

You hook your fingers under the fabric and draw it down.

It slides past the bridge of his nose, past the sharp cut of his cheekbones, and the fullness of his face unfolds beneath your hands like something sacred being unwrapped. The line of his mouth, fuller than you imagined, the lower lip bitten faintly pink. The small beauty marks scattered across his skin like constellations you want to map with your fingertips. The jaw, sharp enough to cut, and the way it tightens when your thumb grazes the corner of his mouth.

He is beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful. In the way a fire is. In the way that something dangerous becomes holy when you hold it close enough to burn.

“There,” he breathes, and his voice is stripped bare now, no mask to muffle it, every vibration of it reaching you unfiltered. “Happy now?”

You don’t answer him, too busy committing him to your memory, just how beautiful he truly is. Your thumb is still resting at the corner of his mouth and his lips part just barely under the pressure of it. His breath is warm against the pad of your finger. His eyes are locked on yours and they are not unreadable anymore. They are saying everything his voice refuses to, and you are still unsure of what to make of whatever you find there.

“The ruins,” you whisper. “Four nights ago, when you caught me...”

His jaw flexes under your hand. “You tripped. It would be careless of me to let the Princess fall.”

“You didn’t let go after.”

Silence. His chest rises and falls. You can see the column of his throat work as he swallows.

“Rafayel.” your voice drops to barely a breath because the guards are outside and Natasha is down the hall and this room is the only safe place left in a palace full of eyes and ears. “Why didn’t you let go of me?”

He closes his eyes. When he opens them again, the laziness and the teasing, all of it has burned away like fog in direct sun. What is left underneath is raw and exposed and so full of longing it makes the air between you feel too thick to breathe.

“You know why, Your Highness,” his gloved hand comes up to cover yours where it rests against his face, pressing your palm flat against his cheek, and the tremor in his fingers is the same one you felt in the ruins, the same one he tried to hide. “I can’t seem to be able to stop... Wanting to be close to you.” 

His words wash over you like cold water in a suffocating desert. Your throat works slowly, tasting your words on the tip of your tongue before you actually decide to let him hear them. It was a simple gesture, catching you so you wouldn’t fall. He could just as easily say so, if it truly meant nothing to him. But nothing is ever accidental with Rafayel, you know this.

A simple touch, a simple embrace under the guise of protecting you to not fall was like opening a door between you, one previously closed, partly on his end. A simple gesture of proximity, one he leaned into before he could have stopped himself. One you didn’t mind, but rather wanted more of.

“Be close to me, then.” your eyes lift up to his, thumb stroking gently over his warm face, “I want you close to me, too.” The words land like a bird’s feather, too soft and barely audible, but enough to reach his ears in the closeness of your bodies.

“Words carry meaning, Your Highness,” his voice drops lower. His thumb traces along your knuckles, slow and gentle. “Actions do, too. So be honest with me… Why did you summon me tonight?”

The words hit your sternum like a fist. Your breath leaves you in a rush and your hand fists gently against his cheek and his eyes darken, his pupils swallowing the color, and the distance between you collapses. There’s no room for pretense anymore, not that you really want to anymore, not that you can.

You kiss him.

It is not quite gentle. It is the culmination of weeks of almost and not quite and what if, and your mouth finds his with a desperation that startles you, that feels like falling except you have been falling for weeks and only now hit the surface of whatever waits below. His response is immediate, his hands gripping your waist, fingers pressing into the silk of your nightdress, pulling you flush against him until you can feel the chains and buckles of his coat pressing into your chest, the warmth of him bleeding through every layer of clothing that separates you.

He kisses you back like drowning, like burning, his mouth hot and insistent and tasting faintly of salt, and your hands are in his hair, the strands impossibly soft between your fingers, strands you ached desperately to touch and feel, and now you’re finally permitted to do so. The sound he makes against your lips, low and raw and wrecked, vibrates through your entire body. 

He breaks the kiss first, his forehead dropping against yours, his breathing ragged. His hands haven’t moved from your waist, and his intention of not withdrawing doesn’t miss you even as your thoughts scramble to dust trying to come to terms with the fact that you just kissed him in your chambers in the middle of the night.

“You got no sense of danger whatsoever, Your Highness,” he murmurs against your mouth. The teasing lilt you’re so familiar with is back but it’s thin now, translucent, stretched over something that trembles. “Summoning an Assassin to your room in the middle of the night. Kissing him, too.”

“You kissed me back.”

“Didn’t say I was the smart one either.”

Your laugh is barely a breath before his mouth catches it, kissing the sound from your lips before it fully forms. Then he is turning you, his hands guiding you by the waist until your back meets his chest in an echo of the ruins that makes your skin sing. His arms wrap around you from behind, his chin settling against the curve of your shoulder, and you feel his breath fan hot across the side of your neck, making you shudder from how good it feels, trickling down your feverish body.

“This dress,” he coos, and his gloved fingers splay across your stomach, wide and warm, the leather soft against silk. “This thin little thing...” his thumb traces a slow line from your navel to the base of your ribs and the sensation shivers through you in a wave that you feel in your scalp and between your legs. “You called me here dressed like this? Shameless.” his lips brush the shell of your ear and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Not very princess-like behavior if you ask me, Your Highness.”

Your cheeks burn in both embarrassment and something akin to pleasure, because he’s suddenly switched on you from raw and honest to this version of him you are familiar with yet not at all, at the same time. Your hands come up to rest over his, pressing them closer against your stomach, and you feel the sharp intake of his breath against your damp neck.

“I was not expecting company when I prepared for bed,” you manage, though your voice is embarrassingly breathy.

“Does the Princess know she doesn’t lie very well?” he mouths the word against the hinge of your jaw, and then his lips trail lower, down the column of your neck in a line of barely there kisses that leave heat blooming in their wake like brushstrokes of fire. “You squeezed the fishtail beacon in your hands and thought of me, knowing exactly what you were inviting into your chambers by doing so.”

You tilt your head to give him access and you feel his mouth curve into a smile against your throat before he presses a kiss to the pulse point there, lingering to feel the frantic rhythm of your heart against his lips. His hands map your body with agonizing slowness, the leather of his gloves dragging over the silk in a friction that makes your nerve endings light up, tracing the curve of your waist, the curve of your hips, the dip of your lower back, and your whole body is shivering, leaning back into him, your weight settling against his chest.

“Cold?” he taunts softly, his mouth at the junction of your shoulder and neck now, open and warm.

“You know I’m not cold.” your voice cracks on the last word because his thumb has found your collarbone and is tracing the bone of it so slowly and maddening, that feels like he is drawing you with intentions alone, his finger as featherlight as a paintbrush on canvas.

You reach behind you, your fingers finding the fabric of his hood where it gathers at his shoulders, and you push it back and off, while your hands slide up into his hair, an action that makes him groan against your neck. A low vibration that you feel in your spine. Your fingers tighten and his hips press forward against you involuntarily. The sensation sends heat pooling low in your belly, your legs almost giving out at what you feel pressed against your lower back.

You turn in his arms, a bit impatient. Your hands go to his chest, palms flat against the fabric of his tunic, and beneath your right hand you feel it. A wave of warmth, sharp and sudden, and when you look down you see it through the thin fabric, a red and pulsing glow. The mark on his chest burning to life under your touch like something answering a call.

His whole body goes rigid at your touch, even as a slight shiver runs through him.

“Don’t...” he starts, but his voice fractures on the syllable. Despite his sudden withdrawal, his hands are still on your waist and he is not pulling away. 

“What is this?” you press your palm harder against the glow and his breath stutters out of him in a sound that is almost a whimper, his head tipping back, his throat exposed, his eyes squeezing shut. The image in front of you makes your lips part in surprise and wonder, because yes, you are curious about the mark and have been for a while. But seeing his reaction to your unprompted touch, how he reacts as if you struck him in either pain or pleasure...

“It’s... complicated, Your Highness.” he forces the words out through gritted teeth. “What you have to know it’s that it’s old. It’s... ours.”

Ours.

The word detonates in your chest, and your brain scrambles for meaning, for logic, but finds none. You don’t need to know, not now, at least. You’ll have plenty of opportunities to interrogate him about it another time, but for now, your fingers curl into the fabric of his tunic and you pull him forward. His mouth finds yours again and this time the kiss is slower, deeper, his tongue sliding against yours and his gloved hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull, tilting your head to deepen the angle. You moan against his lips and feel his fingers tighten in your hair.

You walk him backward. It takes effort, he’s taller and solid and his arms are locked around you, but he goes almost willingly, his mouth still on yours, his boot catching on the edge of the rug as he walks. When the backs of his knees hit the mattress of your bed, he sits and you climb into his lap with a gracelessness that burns your ears red.

He pulls back just enough to look at you through heavy, half-lidded ombre eyes. You are straddling his thighs, your nightdress rucked up around your hips, your hands braced on his shoulders, your face flushed and your breathing ragged. The feeling of him under your body, pressed so close you feel his warmth, his solid muscles, and the state you turned him in... all of it sets your whole body alight and your brain is too far gone to really grasp what you just did. But his is not.

The slowest, most devastating grin spreads across his face.

“So bold, Your Highness.” his hands settle on your bare thighs where the silk has ridden up, his thumbs tracing small circles against your skin. The contrast of leather against bare flesh makes you dizzy. His gaze drops to the tangled sheets beneath him, the pillows thrown sideways, the blankets kicked to the floor. “The sheets are a mess. You really couldn’t sleep tonight, could you?”

You were a fool to think he wouldn’t call you out on it, but the way his words drawl, slow and teasing and maddeningly sexy makes you come to the conclusion that you don’t mind a little bit of his teasing, even if it turns your rosy cheeks two shades darker. You press your forehead against his, your fingers knotting in the chain at his collar. “D-Don’t speak like that.”

“Did something trouble the Princess’ mind?” he leans back on one hand, casual and a tad insufferable, even as his other hand slides higher up your thigh with a slowness that makes your muscles clench at how good it feels, the feeling of his cold glove on your bare skin. “Was it a certain Assassin she boldly called in the middle of the night to come put her to sleep?”

“I will throw you off this balcony.” You avert your eyes, suddenly too shy at his words but too stubborn to let him see the full effect his words have on you.

“Promises, promises.” he catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face so the candlelight catches your eyes. The smugness softens, melts into something that makes your throat ache. “You’re blushing so hard, Princess. Your ears are red.”

You bury your face against his shoulder and feel the rumble of his laughter vibrate through his chest against your palms.

“Hey,” his voice gentles, his hand coming up to the back of your neck, fingers threading into the hair at your nape to guide your gaze back to his. “C’mere. Won’t you look at me?”

You lift your head, albeit a little hesitant. Your eyes are wide, you know, bright and pleading, the want in them so naked it terrifies you. You know he sees it, too, by the way his throat bobs slowly, by the way the playfulness drains from his expression like water from cupped hands and what is left is hunger, raw and deep and shaking and it startles you but also makes your body shiver in delight once more. 

He kisses you again, and this time it is not a question nor a hesitation. His slick, soft lips find your trembling ones while his hand slides to the strap of your nightdress. His fingers pause there for a moment. A question in the hesitation, and you answer it by reaching up and sliding the strap off your own shoulder.

“Inviting me into your bed,” he whispers sweetly against the corner of your mouth, his fingers trailing down your arm as the silk falls. “What happens if the guards outside the door hear something and come find the princess in such an... unfit position?”

“Then you’ll have to keep me quiet,” you breathe, swallowing when his eyes go black. Your spine feels like lightning bolted down from the nape of your neck and down to your lower back and then down still, right between where your thighs are bracketing his lap, in the place now moist and throbbing and needing friction you’re still not bold enough to seek.

His mouth descends on your neck, open and hot. His teeth graze the sensitive skin below your ear, making you gasp while his gloved hand comes up to cover your mouth, gentle but firm, muffling the sound against leather.

“Shhh,” he whispers against your throat, and you can feel the smile there. “That’s more like it.”

His hands undress you in pieces, peeling the silk away with a slowness that is both exhilarating and torturous, pressing his mouth to every inch of skin he reveals, your collarbones, the dip between them, the curve of your ribs. His lips trace the shape of you like he is committing your naked body to memory, like he is painting you with his mouth, and every point of contact sends sparks cascading down your spine until you are trembling in his lap, your fingers tangled in his hair, your head tipped back in pleasure while soft sounds escape between your parted lips.

You tug at his coat impatiently and that makes him laugh, low and breathless, shrugging out of it without detaching his mouth from your sternum. His tunic follows, making the red mark on his chest visible where it blazes in the low light, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, so so beautiful. You press your lips to it and he hisses, his hands fisting in the sheets, his hips rolling up against yours.

“F-Fuck,” he breathes, the word sounds punched out of him, unplanned, raw. It does unspeakable things to your own body, shooting precisely between your legs, like an arrow hitting bullseye.

His mouth finds yours again, more hungry now, and his hands are gloveless now. You barely registered when he took them off, but they map the skin of your chest with such gentleness that makes your eyes sting, thumbs tracing and circling your peaked nipples until your back arches and a sound escapes you that you did not know you could make. You guide his hands upper, your fingers wrapped around his wrists, pulling him closer, pressing his palms flat against your breast. He groans into your mouth and you swallow the sound.

“I might be the Assassin, but you are the lethal one here, Princess,” he whispers against your lips before his hand slides lower, down the plane of your stomach, slow and purposeful. In no time, his fingers find the hem of the silk still bunched at your waist and slip beneath it.

Your hands grip his shoulders so hard your knuckles go white. He watches your face with those devastating bicolored eyes, heavy lidded and swallowed by lust, reading every flicker of sensation that crosses your features. His forehead presses against yours and his free hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone in such a tender gesture despite the lust consuming his soul. When his fingers, gentle and knowing and unbearably precise, find how wet you are, the sound you let out is somewhere between a sob and a plea for more of it.

“There she is,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick and dripping with something that sounds like awe disguised as arrogance, probably already knowing the effect it has on you when he weaponizes his honeyed voice as such. “My beautiful Princess.”

He moves his hand in slow, maddening strokes, building a rhythm that tightens every muscle in your body, and when the sounds you make grow too loud his mouth covers yours, absorbing every gasp and whimper against his lips. His other hand presses flat against the small of your back, holding you against him, steady and sure while the rest of you falls apart.

“That’s it, Your Highness,” he whispers against the corner of your mouth, and his voice has gone rough, wrecked and raspy. “Cling to me. I’ve got you, let yourself fall.”

You shatter in his arms with your face buried against his throat, your teeth sinking into your own lip to keep from crying out, your body bowing into his like a wave breaking against shore. He holds you through it, his lips pressing against your temple, your forehead, the damp curl of hair at your ear, murmuring soft nonsense that sounds like your title and his heartbeat and something in a language you don’t recognize, older than either of you, oceanic and aching.

When your breathing steadies, when the tremors slow to aftershocks and you lift your head to look at him, he is wrecked and unrecognizable. His cheeks are flushed dark, the color bleeding into the tips of his ears. His lips swollen and bitten red, and his chest is heaving and the mark on it pulses like a second heart.

He doesn’t rush to the next part, doesn’t even assume there will be more than what he gave you just now. He just gazes down at you, savoring how you look as the highs of pleasure wash over your body in subsiding waves. You just gave a part of yourself to him, one you can never take back but you don’t want to. It is his now. It was his to take so it is his to keep, now and forever. And you want to give him more parts of yourself, feel like he’s the only one who’ll keep you safe and not feeling like a trapped bird.

This was yours to give, and yours to decide how and when to give it. You want to give him so many more parts, no matter what it is he wants to take. A few pieces, more like this one. Your heart, which is already in his possession, even if he is unaware of it. You’ll give him your fleshed heart too, if only he asked.

Yours to have, yours to give. And you choose him to take it.

You cradle his face in your hands. Your thumbs trace the beauty mark beneath his eyes, and your voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper, raspy but full of unspoken feelings. He awaits an answer to a question he doesn’t voice or even attempt to form, but you choose to speak it anyway.

“I’ve made a selfish decision by summoning you here, but I... I want this. I chose this.” your forehead presses against his and your breath mingles warm between your parted lips. “You are my freedom, Rafayel. I choose you to have me and my body... my heart.”

His eyes search yours, and the vulnerability in them is staggering. The kind of openness that looks like it costs him everything. His hands come up to cover yours where they rest against his face, his fingers lacing through yours, trembling.

“How sure are you of this, my beloved Princess?” his voice is barely above a breath. All the teasing turned to something so naked it makes your chest ache, something painful and raw. “Is it truly what you want from me?” his thumb traces the line of your jaw and his gaze drops to your mouth and back to your eyes. “Giving yourself to someone like me... a reckless thing for a Princess to do. Do you truly want me?”

You kiss him slowly, certain of your decision, wanting to make him understand it, too. Your hands slide into his hair, your body pressing flush against his, and when you pull back your lips brush his as you speak.

“There will never be anyone else I want.”

The sound he makes when he registers your soft whisper is something deep, something that starts in his chest where the mark burns red between you and travels through his entire body in a shudder that you feel everywhere your skin touches his. His arms lock around you and he pulls you against him. His mouth finds yours with a ferocity that steals whatever breath you had left, if you even had any.

He lays you back against the tangled sheets with a gentleness that contradicts the desperation in his kiss, settling over you, the weight of him warm and solid and everywhere. The mark on his chest glows between your bodies like something forged in a furnace, the red of it casting your skin in shades of amber and flame.

“Gotta continue to keep quiet for me, Princess,” he breathes against the hollow of your throat, cooing the words in a teasing lilt, but his voice is shaking now, barely held together. “Unless you want the whole palace knowing who you chose to give yourself to tonight.”

You pull him closer by the back of his neck and his hips press forward with the move. It’s what you both want and crave, if the sounds you both make are any indication. Your shared moans are greedily swallowed by each other’s mouths. His hand finds yours on the pillow, fingers interlacing, squeezing tight.

The world narrows to the space between your bodies. To the rhythm of him moving with you, against you, inside you... To the flex of his jaw when he bites back a groan as you squeeze tightly around him. To the way your name sounds when he whispers it against your collarbone like a confession he has been holding in his mouth for lifetimes. 

Your back arches off the mattress when he hits a certain spot, somewhere deep where it’s tender and untouched, and feeling him press there makes your eyes roll back into your head. His arm hooks beneath you, pulling you against him, his forehead pressed to yours, his breathing fractured and raw.

“Fuck, Your Highness...” his voice breaks on the words, his hips stuttering as they thrust inside your warmth. His bare hand presses firm and warm over your mouth when you cry out in pleasure, and the look he gives you is equal parts desperation and lust. “Keep quiet... the guards...”

You can’t. You pull his hand away and replace it with his mouth, kissing him hard, making him groan against your lips. The sound vibrates through your whole body and the sheets are twisted beneath you and his hand is gripping your thigh and pulling you impossibly closer, and you don’t want this moment to stop. You never want to be away from him after tonight, not ever.

“My beautiful Princess,” he gasps against the corner of your mouth when his rhythm falters for a moment, then quickens, his whole body trembling above you. It’s a beautiful tell you recognize as him losing himself inside you, and you assume he is as close to feeling this closeness between you as you are, this shared pleasure. “Your body doesn’t lie... clings to me so tight...”

Your nails drag down his back and he hisses at the sensation, the feeling of them marking his bare skin makes his hips snap forward and makes the bond mark on his chest blazes so bright you see it through your closed eyelids, red and fierce and consuming. You break apart at the same time, or close enough, his face buried against your neck as he spills so much warmth inside you. Your fingers knotted in his hair from how good it feels. The sound he lets out against your skin, muffled and shattered and utterly broken, is the most honest thing you have ever heard him say.

He stays after that.

The candlelight has burned low by the time the trembling stops, by the time your breathing evens out into something resembling relaxation and his heartbeat slows against your back where he has curled around you, his chest warm and bare against your shoulder blades, his arm draped over your waist, his fingers tracing absent patterns on the inside of your wrist. The bond mark still glows faintly, a soft red pulse that matches the cadence of his breathing.

“Stop thinking so loudly,” he mumbles against your hair, and the drawl is back but soft now, heavy with sleep, the consonants blurred. It makes you smile and move closer in his embrace, “M’trying to enjoy this before you kick me out of your bed.”

It’s a jest, you recognize it as such. Yet even as he jokes, your chest feels heavy where his words settle, scraping against your heart like little knives.

“I’m not going to kick you out.”

“Promise?”

There is something in his voice. Something small and young and achingly uncertain, something that lives under all the smirking and carelessness, and it cracks the last wall inside your chest like a fist through thin ice.

You turn in his arms and press your palm flat against the mark on his chest, the red glow warm beneath your hand. You look him in the eyes with a gaze so raw and honest and blurred by the moist of unshed tears, and you tell him.

“I promise.”

His expression does something complicated, and for a moment his mask wavers so completely that you see everything in his eyes. The relief, the ache, the love so vast and old it seems to spill beyond the borders of this single life. Then he blinks and the smirk ghosts back across his lips, smaller now, gentler, like a muscle memory he can’t quite shake.

“Good,” he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and impossibly soft. “‘Cause I wasn’t gonna leave anyway.”

His eyes close and his breathing slows. His arm tightens around you in his sleep, an involuntary , instinctive thing, as though even unconscious his body refuses to let go of something it has waited too long to hold.

You lie in the dark with his heartbeat against your palm and the fading glow of the mark beneath your fingers and for the first time in your life, you feel like something that belongs to you.

Outside the window, the desert stretches to the horizon. The dunes roll in smooth, undulating waves under the moonlight, pale gold and endless.

If you look long enough, they almost look like the sea.

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Jake was the kind of neighboor everyone loved.

The kind who remembers birthdays without being reminded. The kind who waves first, who carries grocery bags inside without being asked, who laughs easily and listens like whatever you're saying actually matters. The older women on the block adore him. The kids follow him around when he's outside fixing his car. Even your mom softened toward him within weeks of him moving in.

He moved here a few months ago, quiet at first, boxes stacked neatly by the door, sleeves rolled up as he assembled furniture by himself. Twenty-four, living alone, polite to a fault. He smiles with his whole face — a boxy grin, puppy eyes, the kind of expression that makes people feel chosen.

You and Jake have talked before. A plenty of times actually. Over the fence while you were hanging laundry. On the sidewalk when he caught you struggling with grocery bags and insisted on carrying them. Once on his porch when you returned the screwdriver he lent your dad. Easy conversations. Comfortable ones. You laugh at his jokes and he teases you gently about how formal you sound when you speak to him.

"You don't have to call me sir." He said once, grinning. You turned bright red at his words, nodding as you avoided his eyes. He'd liked that.

So when your mom hands you a plate of freshly baked pastries and tells you to take some over to Jake, it doesn't feel unusual. It feels neighborly. Familiar. You straightened your back as you pressed the doorbell, afternoon breeze making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

He answers the door in a loose gray hoodie and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, hair slightly messy like he just woke up from a nap. He blinks at you once, then breaks into that soft, unfair smile. "Hey." He says, smiling like he was expecting you. You grinned sweetly, the cuteness making Jake's smile last longer as his eyes stopped on the plate in your hands—offered and tempting.

"Hi! Sorry to disturb you but mom made some and asked me to bring them over to you." You explain, holding out the plate with both hands. Always both hands. Always careful. Your lively and fresh voice lured a chuckle out of him and the way you grinned made his heart light with joy.

"You're too good to me." He says lightly. His fingers brush yours — not accidental, not entirely deliberate either. Just enough to make your breath hitch. "You're always bringing things over. At this point I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything." You reply quickly, sweet as ever. His smile shifts at that, subtly and slower. "Come in for a minute, for a coffe or something. The cookies I'm baking are almost done too." He offers. "At least let me say thank you properly."

You hesitate — but only for a moment. You've been inside before, just briefly. To drop something off. To borrow something.

It's harmless.

Jake is harmless.

He steps aside, letting you walk in first. You slip off your crocs by the door out of habit, lining them neatly against the wall. The click of the door shutting behind you feels louder than it should. The hallways smelled differently, a mix of cocoa and sugar flowed around the space. "It already smells delicious." You comment, straightening up as you glanced at him. He smiled sweetly. "Just wait till you try them."

His house smells different than yours — less floral, more masculine, now with a hint of tasty cookies. There's low music playing from somewhere deeper inside, something mellow and rhythmic. The living room is tidy but lived-in. A couch that looks too comfortable. A coffee table with a few magazines stacked neatly. The balcony door is slightly cracked open, cool air drifting in, stirring the curtains lazily. You hover near the edge of the room, hands clasped in front of you like you're not sure where to put them.

Jake walks past you toward the kitchen, setting the plate down carefully. His movements are relaxed — like he's completely at ease having you here.

"You can sit, you know." He says gently, glancing at you over his shoulder. "Relax." He moved over to the oven, putting on his glove before opening it and taking the hot pan out. The room filled with the smell of cinnamon and tempting sweetness.

"Okay." You murmured to yourself and moved toward the couch. It sinks slightly under your weight when you sit. Too soft. Too intimate somehow. "What would like to drink?!" Jake's voice boomed off from the kitchen paired with the sound of plates bumping. "Just water please!" You answered back, voice high as your eyes moved over the walls filled with decorations and pictures of his family you would presume.

Jake returns with two glasses of water and a plate of freshly baked cookies, he gave one glass over to you as he set down the plate on the table. His fingers brush yours again — slower this time. He doesn't pull away immediately.

"Thanks for always bringing stuff over." He says, quieter now as he took a seat. "You're… really thoughtful." He flashed you a smile. You shrug, eyes dropping. "It's nothing. My mom just loves sharing."

"Yeah." He hums, studying you and letting out a breathy laugh. "Say thank you to your parents too, they are really amazing." You nod with a sweet and generous smile and take a small sip of water just to do something to avoid the any kind of awkwardness.

Your gaze drifts to the coffee table — and that's when you notice it.

A small tin. A lighter beside it.

Your eyes flick up to him instinctively.

He notices, eyes going wide for a second before he calmly reached for it, like he just remembered it was there. "Oh, sorry..." His fingers reached around the tin. "Should've put that away." He doesn't though. Jake smiled, the tin and the lighter in both of his hands as he held them, his elbows on his thighs rolling the tin as he observed it. You smiled tightly, remotely confused but not wanting to ask any questions as he cutely looked at you, a tight lipped adorable smile on his face.

"Ever tried it?" He asks, like he's asking about coffee, just another casual interaction. You blink. "Tried what?"

His mouth curves faintly.

"Weed."

The word lands heavier than you expect. Oh. You shake your head immediately. "No. I m, mean— I've never." The answer is immediate and honest. You shift a little on the couch. "I mean, I've never… been around it." He nods slowly, watching your face carefully.

"You don't look scandalized." He observes, eyebrow knitting together as he chuckled. "I'm not." You say quickly, then falter. "I just didn't know that's what you meant." A small smile tugs at his mouth.

"Thought I was talking about the cookies?* He teases softly, head nudging toward the plate on the table as he lightly laughed. Your cheeks warmed at that, eyes back on the glass in your lap that you were gripping steady. "Maybe". Noticing the way you retracted and the demeanor seemed to slowly turn awkward he added simply.

"It's not a big deal though." He says, slightly shaking his head. "Just makes things feel lighter. Warmer." His eyes meet yours deliberately as you looked back up. "Sometimes a little more intense." Your stomach tightens at the way he says that.

You glance at the balcony door, slightly cracked open, letting fresh air in. The music hums softly in the background. The room feels warm, safe. You glance toward the hallway. Toward the very real front door behind you.

You should probably go home soon. But you don't stand up.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" He asks after a moment. You think about it. "No." You admit quietly. "I just don't know anything about it." That shifts something in his expression — interest, maybe. "Never been curious?" He asks, eyes narrowing in a questioning manner. You hesitate this time. "…Maybe a little." The honesty surprises even you. Jake's gaze softens, but there's something darker flickering underneath. Not cruel, just aware. "Curiosity's not a bad thing." He says.

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to calm your nerves. You wet your lips nervously, eyes flicking to the tin in his hands. "What does it feel like?" You ask, barely above a whisper. His eyes darken just a fraction. "Well." He says slowly, setting the tin down on the table but leaning back onto the armrest of the couch right by his side. "That depends."

"On what?" You ask, trying to sound steadier than you feel. "On the person." His gaze drifts over your face, unhurried. "Some people get giggly. Some get sleepy. Some…" He pauses, thumb brushing over the edge of the tin absentmindedly. "Feel everything more." Your fingers tighten around your glass. "More?" You echo back, waiting for the elaboration. The curiosity now eating you alive. "Touch. Sound. Breathing." His eyes lift to yours again. "It's like the volume's turned up." The music in the background suddenly feels louder. You swallow eyes flicking back to your glass. He notices every little reaction. The way your shoulders pull in. The way your thighs press together when he says touch. Jake but his lip to stop a grin from showing on his face. eyes going over the neat small table. "But…" You start, curiosity tugging at you despite yourself. "Is it bad?"

Jake lets out a quiet laugh. "It's not some scary gateway drug, sweetheart." The nickname slips out so naturally you almost miss it. Almost. "It's just a little high." He says it so easily. Your eyes drift to the balcony door again, the curtain shifting with the breeze. The world outside looks the same as it always does — quiet street, trimmed hedges, nothing scandalous about it.

Inside feels different.

"Have you done it a lot?" You ask, Jake nods once, settling back against the couch, legs spread comfortably, completely at ease. "A few times." Jake could not stop his gaze from drifting to your lap, the way you were clenching the glass, the way your shorts was riding up your thighs, exposing more than necessary without you noticing. Your shallow breathing still somehow steady even if he could see the nerves were pooling in you. His gaze lingers — not subtle now. Watching you. Studying the way your chest rises, the way your lips part slightly when you think too hard.

Silence stretches.

You glance at the tin again then back at him. "So you just… smoke it?" You ask, almost shy. Jake's brows lift slightly. "You're asking a lot of questions for someone who's not interested." He adds, tone light. Your cheeks warm. "I didn't say I wasn't interested."

That makes him pause. He wasn't expecting that. "Oh?" A small smile pulls at his mouth. "So you are?" Your pulse jumps. You hesitate just for a second.

Maybe it's the way he's looking at you. Maybe it's the way the room feels heavier. Maybe it's the fact that you're eighteen and tired of always being the careful one.

"…Maybe." You say, softer. He leans back slightly, studying you in a way that makes your stomach flip. "You wanna try?" He asks, more direct now. Your fingers curl into your shorts for a second before you force them to relax.

"I mean—" You start, nerves tangling your words. "I just… I want to know what it feels like." There's something almost shy about it, not rebellious or reckless, just honest. Jake's expression shifts — not darker, not predatory. Just surprised. Heat rises to your cheeks as you set the glass down carefully on the table, mostly because your hands are starting to betray you.

Silence settles between you again, humming but almost loud. He reaches for the tin again, but doesn't open it yet, just rests his fingers on top of it. "You sure?" He asks, voice lowering and teasing now. "Didn't think you were the rebellious type." You straighten a little at that. "I'm not." You defend quickly.

He hums, unconvinced. "Then what are you?"

You falter. "I just… want to know what it's like." The same words were repeated from earlier, eyes up to meet his. His gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes.

"Curious girls get into trouble." He says lightly. Your breath hitches at his words, a heat crawling up your spine that made you stiffen. "But..." He adds after a beat, softer now. "Only if they want to." Your heart is pounding so loud you're sure he can hear it.

"I want to." You say — quieter than you meant to, but steady. Jake studies you carefully, t there's no rush in him. No impatience. Just control. "You don't have to impress me." He murmurs. "And you don't have to say yes just because you're curious."

"I'm not saying yes because of that." You reply, lifting your chin slightly. "I'm saying yes because I want to try." A slow smile spreads across his face — this time he doesn't hide it. "Alright." He says and opens the tin. The faint earthy scent drifts into the air, mixing with the sweetness of cookies and the cool breeze from the balcony. He doesn't rush. He moves with practiced ease, but there's something deliberate about how unhurried he is. Like he knows you're watching.

Jake prepares it slowly, not looking nervous. Completely composed. He glances up at you while he works, rolling the paper between his fingers, spreading the herbs evenly. "Last chance." He teases gently, bringing up the small soon to be blunt to his smirking lips, letting his tongue wet the end. "Still sure, sweetie?" You watched with attentiveness what he is doing and the way he looked at you as he licked the paper, eyes mischief and teasing, lips curved — it made your breath hitch.

"Yes." You say, eyes flicking to his own. This time, there's no hesitation. Jake leans over to grab the lighter. "Okay." He murmurs and holds your gaze a second longer before bringing the freshly rolled blunt to his lips. The teasing curve of his mouth lingers as he lights it, the small flame briefly illuminating his features.

He inhales slowly, deliberately — not breaking eye contact.

You watch the way his chest rises. The way his shoulders relax as he pulls the smoke in. The way he tilts his head slightly, holding it for a moment before exhaling toward the open balcony door. The smoke drifts lazily into the air, curling in the warm light.

He looks… completely at ease.

"Okay. " He murmurs, voice just a touch lower now. "Come here." You hesitate only a second before shifting closer on the couch. Not enough to touch him fully — but close enough that your knees almost brush. He notices that too. "You ever smoked anything before?" He asks lightly.

You shake your head. "Alright." His tone softens, more instructive now, less teasing. "Don't overthink it. Just breathe in slow. Not too hard." He brings it toward you but doesn't let go yet. "Here." H says quietly. "Hold it like this."

His fingers guide yours — warm, steady — adjusting how you grip it. The contact is brief but deliberate enough to make your pulse skip. "Relax your shoulders." He adds. You didn't realize they were tense. He lifts it slightly toward your lips. "Slow breath. Just a little." Your heart is pounding. You lean forward carefully, inhaling like he told you to.

It's harsher than you expected. You cough almost immediately. Jake laughs softly, not mocking, just amused and sets the blunt aside for a second. "Easy." He murmurs, his hand coming to rest lightly between your shoulder blades. "Told you not to pull too hard." Your eyes water slightly as you try to recover, embarrassed.

"I did exactly what you said." You mumble. "I know." He smiles, thumb brushing once, absentmindedly, against your back before pulling his hand away. "First time's always like that." You glance at him, trying to gauge whether he's teasing again. He isn't. Not fully.

"Try again." He says gently. "Smaller this time." You nod, still a little flustered. He hands it back to you, watching closely. This time you inhale more carefully — slower, controlled. It's still unfamiliar, but you don't cough. "Good. " He says quietly. The praise lands somewhere warm in your chest. You hand it back to him without realizing how close you've leaned in. He takes another slow pull, then passes it back.

The exchange becomes easier the second time. Less awkward as the high started creeping in, light and still not fully there. You shift slightly on the couch. Jake studies you. "How do you feel?" He asks. You blink, trying to focus on the question. "Warm." You admit after a moment. "Kind of… floaty?" A small, satisfied smile curves his lips. "Yeah..." he says. "That's normal."

Your limbs feel heavier, but not unpleasant. The room seems softer somehow. The air thicker. Your gaze drifts to his face — and stays there longer than it usually would. He notices. "You're staring," he says lightly. You don't look away this time. "Everything does feel louder." You murmur, almost to yourself. His eyes darken slightly at that. "Yeah?" He asks, bringing the blunt up to his lips, still not high. He inhaled, eyes stuck to your lidded eyes, the way they moved over the room as you leaned back against the couch.

"If you don't feel well you need to tell me." He spoke as the herbal smoke escaped his parted lips, the high getting to his head gradually. His head felt slightly lighter, back meeting the couch rest bringing the ashtray between your two. Your attention moved back to him, vision fuzzy at the edges as your gaze moved to his hand on his thigh. The blunt burning between his long slender fingers and smoke curling in the air.

Before you knew it, you reached for it — fingers eagerly and clumsily taking the burning rolled paper. "Woah, easy." He smiled at that, a lighthearted laugh escaping him, fingers trying to steadily transfer the burning blunt to you. Jake felt like he was floating, eyes slowly turning red and eyelids dropping. His face felt relaxed, the smile on his face heavy.

He watched you inhale it, slow and steady, eager for the lightness that was flooding your senses. And just like that the room was already full of thick, swirling smoke, the air hazy around the soft glow of the lamp. Your head buzzed almost immediately.

Not dizzy — just… warmer.

Soft.

The edges of everything felt slightly blurred, like the world had been turned down a notch and wrapped in velvet. When you exhaled, the smoke drifted slowly between the two of you, curling lazily toward the ceiling. Jake leaned back into the couch, watching you with a slow grin. "Careful." He murmured. "You went in pretty confident for someone who said they've barely done this."

You coughed once still getting used to the feeling, waving a hand through the smoke, laughing a little breathlessly. "Okay, maybe I underestimated it."

"Just a little?" He teased.

You handed the blunt back, your fingers brushing his for a second longer than necessary. The contact felt strangely noticeable, like your skin had suddenly become aware of everything. Jake took another drag, shoulders sinking into the couch as he exhaled slowly. His eyes were half-lidded now, a faint redness spreading through them. He looked relaxed in a way that made everything about him seem slower, easier.

The music hummed quietly in the background.

Time started slipping. At some point you both stopped keeping track of how long you’d been sitting there.

The blunt had burned down to nothing in the ashtray, and the room smelled faintly sweet and smoky. The high had settled in completely now — heavy, warm, almost weightless.

You had shifted positions without even realizing it.

Now you were sitting sideways on the couch, your legs pulled up comfortably beneath you, one knee tucked under the other as you leaned into the cushions. Your hair had fallen loosely around your face, and every now and then you pushed it back while laughing. Jake sat beside you, one arm draped along the back of the couch, his posture relaxed and easy.

The two of you had drifted into the kind of random conversation that only happened when you were high. "…No way." You said through a laugh, shaking your head. "You're telling me you actually tried to microwave ramen in a coffee maker?"

"It worked." Jake insisted lazily. You laughed again, the sound light and loose. "It absolutely did not work."

"It worked enough." He said, grinning. "You would be surprised what you can do when you're desperate and it's two in the morning." The laughter faded into a comfortable quiet. Jake huffed out a breath, a hand coming up to his hoodie collar, tugging at it. The air felt too suffocating and warm, the breeze from the open door not doing much. "It's hot in here..." He murmured to himself, hands already taking the grey thick fabric off him. He run a hand through his hair, taming it just a tab bit before he straightened the white shirt that he is left in.

Jake placed the hoodie neatly on the arm rest, feeling the sudden relief. You on the other hand were stuck in place, gaze following his every movement. Too lost. Too high. So fixed on his figure that the way his shirt went up exposing his lower abdomen as he took the hoodie off is left engraved. The way his hand ran through the messy hair, trying to subdue the disheveled strands made you almost evidently gulp.

Jake was attractive. That was no secret. From the way the older ladies in the neighborhood treated him, from the way younger kids always stop and stare at him a second too long before getting shy. Even older men never missed a chance to start a conversation with him, always trying to make sure he knew they had daughters who are single by the end of their conversations.

But he was always sweet, a little too kind and cute. Laughing everything off, nodding shyly and just simply being respectful. And that's what people liked about him. That's what made everyone adore him.

You on the other hand, did think so too. He was just every girls dream. Hot, handsome, living alone at just twenty-four, hardworking. Could you ask for something more, really? But the age. The age was something that really made you step back into your lane. The reality crushing down everytime you were stuck staring at him over your fence, images flashing through your mind.

Your family did tease you, all the way to your younger brother. Making jokes about you and him being together, how he is a great a catch. And it was annoying. It was agonizingly annoying hearing the overused plethoras of these words. You would only roll your eyes and just simply say he was too old for you. He could almost be your uncle. Really.

But still there was no denying. He was awfully, excruciatingly sexy.

Jake leaned forward, reaching toward the coffee table where a plate of cookies sat forgotten. His hand came into the warm light of the lamp as he grabbed one. You watched his fingers without realizing it.

Long fingers.

Veins running along the back of his hand and wrist. The movement was slow and unhurried as he brought the cookie up and took a bite. You blinked, gaze stuck to the way the silver bracelet hugged his wrist, dangling from his arm. Your brain felt like it lagged half a second behind what your eyes were seeing.

Jake chewed casually, completely unaware of the small spiral of thoughts that had suddenly started in your head. The low music flowed in the background, his head light and face smiley as he grabbed his phone from the table after it buzzed. A group chat spammed with random messages a she opened the chat eyes skimming over the unrelevant chats. He took another bite of the cookie, chewing lazily, his jaw feeling a little too heavy with each bite. Your eyes were still stuck to his face, his side profile as the bright phone screen illuminated his sharp but still soft features. He looked perfect.

But suddenly, he glanced at you, lidded eyes meeting yours just for a second before they were back on the phone. You almost evidently jolted at the sudden eye contact, the way he catches you staring but said nothing. You cleared your throat. "So... Is it hard to work from home?" A random question about his graphic designing. Just to ease the sudden tenseness you felt even if your body surrendered to the relaxation a long time ago.

He smiled, not looking up at you, fingers working over his keyboard as he typed a response to his friends. "Well actually no..." He answered, eyes still on the phone. "I get to manage my time on my own, clients are the only thing the company assigns me but yeah..." He glanced at you, taking the last bite of the cookie as he still typed away on the phone. Your eyes drifted all over him again — not just his hands this time, but the relaxed way he was leaning on his thighs, veiny forearms supporting him, the lazy curve of his smile, the faint redness in his eyes.

Everything about him looked softer. Slower.

Your curiosity bubbled up again, the same one that had been creeping around your thoughts for the past hour. Before you could overthink it, the question slipped out. "Jake?"

"Yeah?" He said, brushing crumbs from his fingers. You hesitated for a moment, suddenly aware of how random it might sound. "Are you… seeing someone?" He looked at you, not surprised just curious. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. His eyes lingered on your face a little longer than usual, flicking down your figure before he answered.

"Why?" He asked lightly. "You doing a background check on me?" You laughed nervously and shook your head. "No. I was just… wondering." Wondering because you never saw him bring any women over. Because the only people that ever visited him were his parents now and then and his group of friends.

His eyes locked onto yours, something dark and tempting behind them before he answered. "No. Not right now." His phone buzzed, eyes glued themselves to the screen again. "I broke up with my ex right before I moved here. Had some flings here and there but nothing serious." His voice was flat, too immersed into the small bright box in his hands. You nodded, more to yourself as you glanced onto the small table. You rubbed your calve up and down, the sudden quiet that took place was awkward. Before...

"What about you?"

His voice made you snap your head toward him. Jake finally locked his phone and set it down on the table. The small screen went dark as he leaned back into the couch, stretching one arm along the backrest. His attention shifted completely to you now, heavy-lidded eyes studying your face with a calm, curious focus. The sudden attention made your stomach tighten.

"Me?" You repeated quietly. "Yeah." He shrugged a little, relaxed. "You asked first." You looked down at your hands, suddenly very aware of them resting awkwardly on your knee. The high was still humming through your body, soft and warm, but now it made you feel strangely exposed under his gaze. "I'm… not seeing anyone either." You said.

Jake hummed softly, watching you. "No boyfriend?" You shook your head. "Not really." His eyebrow lifted slightly. "Not really?" You hesitated, feeling heat creep up your neck. "There was...someone I liked." You admitted, feeling like a little kid at the simple talk of childish crushes to a grown man. "In school. We still have some classes together." Jake tilted his head, watching you carefully now.

"But it wasn't anything serious." You added quickly. "We just talked a lot. Sat together sometimes. I thought maybe he liked me too but…" You gave a small embarrassed shrug. "Nothing ever actually happened."

Jake's eyes stayed on you. "That's it?" He asked slowly. You nodded. "Yeah."

He leaned back further into the couch, hands resting on his thighs while he slammed down the leather. His gaze drifted down for a moment — over the way you were curled on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, the nervous motion of your fingers rubbing along your calf. "You're eighteen, right?" He asked.

"Yeah." A quiet breath left him. "Huh."

You glanced up, scanning his side profile as his head was leaned back onto the couch, tired and red eyes staring at the ceiling.

"What?" Your voice was quiet and unsure. Embarrased. He shook his head slightly, a faint, almost amused smile tugging at his mouth.

"Nothing." He said. "Just… surprising."

"Why?" You gulped, eyes unconsciously running over his hand in his lap, his spread thighs and the way the sweatpants hugged his pelvis. The bulge that was right there making you gulp, you thighs pressing slightly. Jake's eyes returned to yours, darker now in the dim light making your eyes flick up to his.

"I don't know." He said slowly. "Most people your age have a little more… going on."

Your cheeks warmed instantly.

"I guess I'm just… slow with that stuff." You murmured. He didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted over you again, slower this time — the high making his focus heavier, more lingering than he probably meant it to be. The way you were sitting curled up on the couch, your shorts shifting slightly over your thighs as you adjusted your legs. The nervous movement of your hands. The faint pink in your cheeks. You shifted under the attention without meaning to. Your knee moved slightly, your foot sliding against the cushion as if you were trying to get comfortable, but it only made you more aware of how closely he was watching.

Jake noticed. His jaw tightened just slightly before he looked back at your face. There was something very unguarded about you.

He cleared his throat lightly. "Well." He said, voice casual again. "You're eighteen. That's the perfect age to enjoy it."

"Enjoy what?" You asked, confused.

"Life." He said simply. "Meeting people. Dating. Figuring out what you like." His eyes flicked back to your face, then down briefly again before returning. "You should enjoy that stage." You shifted slightly on the couch, suddenly very aware of how you were sitting and the way his eyes went over your body. And you hated the way the unfamiliar warmth started burning in the low of your stomach.

"I guess." You said quietly. Unsure. Eyes

Jake watched you for another moment, something thoughtful settling in his expression. He raised his head from the cozy couch. "Can I ask you something?" He said. Your shoulders tensed slightly, eyes flicking to his intimidating gaze. You nodded, not finding the courage to use your words since the high was at its peak, hitting your head with a force so invisible but still present. Your head felt heavy, eyes were burning red and lidded. Your limbs felt heavy, everything seemed to turn up a notch. His presence seemed to overwhelm you more, the masculine aura making you trace his figure shamelessly.

His voice stayed casual, but his eyes stayed fixed on you. "Have you ever… done anything with someone?" The question hung in the air.Your brain understood what he meant almost instantly, rimmed red eyes moving up to his own as you licked your lips.

"No." You said quickly. Jake blinked. "No?"

You shook your head as you let it fall on the couch, eyes still stuck to his.

"No."

He leaned back slightly, studying you more carefully now and still trying to process everything. "You mean… like nothing?" He asked. You shifted again, embarrassment evaporating the more the weed in your system flowed. "I mean… no." You said quietly. "Not really."

For a moment he just stared at you. His eyes flicked over you again — slower this time. Not in an obvious way, but enough that the high made him notice things he hadn't earlier. The way your neck streched as you gazed at him, the way you kept carresing your calf, eyes a little too lost on him.

He never failed to noticed your eyes flicking down to his sweats, where the bulge of his soft cock portruded. It made him shift his hips against the couch, the sudden rush of blood to his pelvis alarming him. He teared his gaze from you, quickly dancing around the small table. "That's okay. You are still young, there's time for everything even if you take it slow."

He added, trying to ease the tension that seemed to suffocate the air. He tried to erase the image of you, in ways he should never think of. Not when you are that younger than him, still in high school. Not when you are the daughter of the neighbors right next door.

But fuck, did actually exactly those things get him going.

He could still feel your eyes on him as he reached forward, grabbing the glass of water before he took a sip. He needed to cool off. Immediately. His cock threatening to evidently form a tent inside his briefs. The cold water did almost nothing.

The room still felt thick — smoke hanging lazily in the warm air, music humming quietly from somewhere behind you both. His pulse hadn't slowed either. Jake set the glass down again and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake the thoughts out of his head.

You were still watching him.

Curled into the couch with your legs tucked under you, head tilted slightly, eyes heavy and red-rimmed from the high. The way you looked at him now wasn't the same as earlier. There was curiosity there, yes — but something else too. Something softer. Bolder.

It made his stomach tighten.

Your fingers traced slowly along your calf again, absentminded, and the movement pulled his eyes down before he could stop himself. You noticed that too. A quiet little spark lit in your chest. The weed had melted most of your nervousness away, leaving behind something warm and daring that you normally wouldn't let yourself feel.

"You said I should enjoy being eighteen." You said softly. Jake glanced up at you again.

"Yeah..." He said cautiously and your head tilted slightly. "What if I want to start doing that now?"

The question made him pause. His eyes searched your face like he was trying to figure out if you even realized what you were implying. His elbows dug harder into his knees, eyes stuck on you. You shifted closer on the couch without really thinking about it.

The cushion dipped slightly between you.Your gaze dropped for a moment, then slowly lifted again, tracing his face. His jaw, his mouth, the faint tension in his shoulders. "You look different when you're high." You said quietly. "Oh yeah?" Jake asked, eyebrow raising. You hummed in response, the sound a little too low and sensual. "Your eyes get heavier."

He smirked faintly. "That's the weed."

"And you look at me more." You added. That made him go still. The silence stretched between you again. Then, almost without thinking, you leaned forward slightly, just enough to close some of the space between you.

Jake's breath slowed.

"You shouldn't be doing this." He said quietly, still leaned onto his knees, eyes flicking to your mouth and knees that were on the edge of the couch. But he didn't move away. Your heart was beating so loudly you were sure he could hear it. But the warmth of the high and the pull of his gaze made it impossible to back down now. "Doing what?" Ypu whispered. Jake looked at you like he already knew exactly where this was going. Your eyes flicked to his mouth, then back to his eyes. The moment stretched.

One second. Two.

Your courage wavered for just a moment — but then you leaned forward the rest of the way and pressed your lips softly against his. It was clumsy, gentle. And very, very brief.

When you pulled back, your face was flushed but your eyes were still on him. For a second Jake didn't move at all. Then he exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. "Y/N..." He muttered under his breath. His eyes returned to yours again, darker now.

"You just said you've never done anything with anyone..." He said. Your shoulders lifted slightly in a shy little shrug. "I haven't." A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "Until now."

Jake stared at you. Something about the way you said it, innocent but bold at the same time, made the tension in the room snap tighter instead of breaking. You leaned a little closer again, your knee brushing his thigh this time, placing a hand on his shoulder. Jake's eyes glanced down your bare legs, shorts lost under the shirt.

Fuck it.

He pressed his lips against yours,head tilting as he let out a low moan. You were taken aback, the sudden harshness of his lips making you panic for a second.

You didn't know how to kiss.

"Relax, let me take the lead and just copy me." He pulled back just enough to speak before his lips were again onto yours. His hand found your waist, slowing down his lips and letting your get used to the feel. "Just like that." He pulled back again, breath brushing your wet lips before you pressed them again. Jakes back met the cushion of the couchrest, adjusting his hips against the sofa. You were on your knees kissing him eagerly as you got your pace on. The smacks and smooches of your hungry mouth were fueling. You moaned against his mouth, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable.

Jake still had you by his side, one hand around your waist as he angled his head up, chin tipping to meet your mouth that hovered over his. Your kisses were clumsy but eager now, lips soft and warm against his. Each time you leaned down, trying to follow the rhythm he had shown you moments ago, Jake answered with a slower, deeper kiss that made your stomach tighten. The quiet sounds of it — soft breaths, the brush of lips, the faint smacks as you tried to keep up filled the small space between you.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, chest rising quickly, your lips slightly swollen and damp. Jake's hand tightened a little at your waist as he looked up at you. His eyes lingered on your face first — the flush spreading across your cheeks, the way your lips stayed parted as you caught your breath — before they drifted lower for a second, taking in the way you were kneeling beside him on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you. "Easy…" He murmured, voice low and rough, though he didn't push you away.

His thumb brushed slowly along your side through the thin fabric of your shirt, and the simple touch made you shiver. Jake noticed the reaction immediately. His gaze sharpened slightly, a darker curiosity settling in as he leaned his head back against the couch cushion, still looking up at you. "You're really new to this, aren't you?" He said quietly, his hot breath brushing your face. You hesitated for a moment, fingers still curled loosely into the fabric of his shirt, then nodded. The admission made your cheeks warm again, but the haze of the high softened the embarrassment, leaving only a nervous flutter in your chest.

Jake let out a slow breath through his nose. His eyes dropped briefly, following the line of your legs, the way the oversized shirt you wore had shifted while you moved, barely hiding the shorts underneath. When his gaze lifted again, it settled back on your face.

"Have you ever touched yourself?" He asked quietly, voice dark and sharp. The question sent a sudden wave of heat through you. Your eyes dropped almost instantly, landing somewhere near the collar of his shirt. You shook your head slowly, the movement small and shy.

"No." You murmured. Jake went very still beneath you. For a moment he simply stared, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief. Then he leaned his head back against the couch and dragged a hand slowly down his face.

"Fuck…" He muttered under his breath, his cock throbbing violently with each passing second. When his hand fell away, he looked at you again — longer this time, his gaze lingering over your flushed face, the way you were still kneeling beside him, your hand resting uncertainly on his shoulder as he held your waist.

"You're serious." He said quietly, voice strained as if he is afraid what your honest answer would do him. Because he was certain you weren't lying.

You nodded again, glancing down at your hands as they fidgeted lightly with the fabric of his shirt. And his body experienced a sudden rush of adrenaline, his shoulders almost evidently shuddered under your hand as he closed his eyes. "I just… never really thought about it." You admitted softly.

Jake opened his heavy red eyes staring at you for a moment, jaw tightening just slightly. Something about the way you said it, so honest and unaware, made him exhale slowly. He looked divine. Pretty even. His dark slightly longer hair falling over his eyes. His red cheeks and plump swollen lips. It made you bite your lip. And your eyes flicked down. Down to his tent that hardened with every passing minute he spent by your side.

"God…" He murmured again, almost to himself when he captured everything. And he crashed your lips again, pulling you so hard you feel onto his side, one hand clutching his shoulder and the other fisting the shirt at his chest. He moaned against you, your lips a drug that he couldnt get enough off. And the way you were struggling to catch up with him made his hips raise, thrusting into the air from the desperation.

"Take your shorts and panties off. Now." He sternly spoke against your lips. "And sit back and spread your legs for me." You nodded, trying to collect yourself from his savage kisses just a second ago. Quickly you straightened yourself, hands hastily unzipping your shorts before pulling it down your legs together with your underwear. Jake watched every move, the way the short glided down your legs and you threw it down, the way you moved back, pushing yourself away before you slowly but certainly spread your legs.

And Jake's throat constricted, a sharp inhale as he took in your form.

You were leaned back, supporting yourself by your arms against the couch, legs bent at your knees as you shyly pulled them apart. Jake's eyes sucked everything in but saw the little hesitation. "Don't be shy..." He said softly, eyes flicking up to yours giving you a nod, a connection you needed in this moment.

The mere look of his puppy eyes, giving you reassurance was enough. And you spread them further, knees closer to you, feet planting onto the cushion. He was stunned, another sharp inhale followed. His eyes danced over your thighs before it reached the center. His gaze went over your pubic hair, over your drooling lips that spilled the sticky essence onto the hairy lips.

His dick twitched.

"Shit." He muttered to himself, lips slightly parting as he let his head back onto the couch. You stood there, spread open for his eyes, observing the way he ate you with his stare. The way his chest moved deeper, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped. Jake's hand moved down, resting onto his bulge, palm feeling the heaviness and the sensitivity over the fabric. But he just let it rest there, eyes glued to your drooling pussy and the sticky bush.

Already this wet, just from kissing. Of course you are.

Fucking virgin.

"Jake..." You called out to him, eyes searching for his. His eyes flicked up to yours. The worried expression on your face had him inhaling. "Touch yourself." He spoke firmly.

"I—I don't kno—"

"Bring your fingers over to your lips." He cut you off, hungry and rough. His chest heavied, following your unsure moves. You hesitantly brought your hand down, fingers hovering uncertainly in the air for a moment before you slowly followed his instruction. "Find your clit." His voice vibrated in the tight air, your eyes moved down to your mound, the hair rough against your fingertips as you slid them between your folds. Arousal coated them right away, the warmth of your folds swallowing the fingertips too much. You hissed at the new feeling.

"Higher..." You moved them back, higher, and when you found the small bud you — pressed it. A moan escaped you, eyes going tight shut at the new overwhelming sensation. Jake didn't look away.

His eyes followed every small movement you made, heavy and fixed on you as if he didn't want to miss a single second of it. The earlier teasing had faded from his face, replaced with something more focused — something darker and intent. The hand resting over the front of his sweats stayed there, fingers flexing slightly against the fabric as he watched. "That's it... Rub it in circles. Slow." He breathes out, his senses narrowing down to just feeling and the image of you spread by his side.

Your breathing had already grown shallow, chest rising and falling quicker than before as the warmth between your legs pulsed in quiet waves. Your fingers moved cautiously, almost timidly at first, a pant left your parted lips. You glanced up at him again, searching his face for reassurance. His gaze, immediately lifted to meet yours, and the intensity of it made your stomach twist.

"That's it." He said softly, nodding once. "Just… like that."

The simple encouragement steadied you. Your shoulders relaxed a fraction, though your cheeks were still flushed and your breathing uneven. You dragged your finger over the pulsing bud with steady rhythm, the arousal burning tight. You watched the way your arousal spread the more you rubbed, coating your hair, feeling it ooze out of your entrance sliding down your asscheeks and right onto the Jake's couch. You were so wet.

The feeling was strange. Strange but taunting, pulling your fingers to move on their own as you slightly sped up. A moan escaped you, the ticklish pleasure shooting up your spine as you teased yourself.

The moment felt strangely suspended — the low music somewhere behind you, the lingering haze in the room, and Jake watching you like nothing else existed.

He leaned his head back slightly against the couch again, eyes never leaving you. A quiet curse slipped under his breath when you shifted your legs a little wider without thinking, trying to follow the feeling growing in your body. He couldn’t contain himself anymore, his hand dipped into the waistbands, entering the confiments of his boxers. His raging cock already painfully hard. Throbbing and begging for a touch, for the fist of his hand.

His fingers wrapped around himself, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "You see?" He murmured. "You're already figuring it out, doll."

The nickname rolled of his tongue so easily and so usual for him. But for you — it sent you shuddering. Body reacting on its own as your hole clenched around nothing. His gaze catches that, his hand already moving up and down his pulsing length, coating it with his warm precum. "Am I doing it right?" You asked quietly, voice breathy and needy as your fingers kept their pace, rubbing your clit desperately.

Jake let out a slow breath through his nose, his jaw tightening for a moment before he answered, hand sqeezing his tip for a brief moment. So hungry for praise aren't you. "So so right sweetie. Fuck—" His voice broke off into a strained breath as he watched you. The sight by him had something dark flashing through his eyes, his chest rising deeper as watched the way your folds engulfed your fingertips, the way your arousal stuck to your hair.

Your fingers kept moving, the strange but growing warmth between your legs making you shift on the couch, hips chasing your own fingers. Another small sound escaped you, half surprise, half something deeper you didn't quite understand yet. The feeling was different now — sharper, more insistent.

Jake watched the change in your expression immediately. You are pushing yourself close to the orgasm.His hand stilled for a moment before moving again, slower now, gliding deliberately against his cock, eyes locked on your face as if he were reading every reaction.

"You feel that?" He asked quietly, hand sticky and slimy as it moved under his briefs.

You nodded quickly, breath hitching and eyes moving over to his sweats. The evident move of his hand against his length made you grind your hips again.

"It's… weird." You admitted softly, barely uttering it out as your fingers slowed down again. "But… good."

He huffed out a faint laugh under his breath, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah..." His lidded eyes flicked down to the mess you made. Your hand faltered for a moment, your brows knitting together as you tried to understand the new sensations building. Jake noticed instantly. "Stop."

You didn't, you closed your eyes, a moan slipping. "I-I can't! Ah..." You cried out, fingers putting more pressure with each tight circle. "I said stop." He repeated, and this time you did. With a whine you made your fingers stop. Your felt the arousal all over your hand, sticky and messy as it covered your fingers. New fluid and texture making you slightly spread them, feeling the arousal stretch and snap.

You panted, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin. Jake's hand moved slowly up and down his cock prolonging the pleasure. Here and now delivering a squeeze to his tip that made him hiss and gasp. "Put a finger inside." He commanded sternly. And you did. Your middle finger dug into your puffy folds, making you gasp as you moved it down. Lower. Until you felt the dip of your entrance under the fingertip. You gulped, head dizzy and already light from all the smoke in the room. Your heat burned with desire, and when hesitation rose in you, fear, you still pushed the finger.

You groaned at the sudden stretch, pushing until the first knuckle. Just first. It glided with ease. But all of a sudden it felt like your walls did not want to let you move deeper. You moaned, shallowly thrusting nonstop. At an attempt to relax, to push through. But you just couldn't. Was it the tense walls, or perhaps the unconscious that was anxious about registering the new experience.

"Jake—" You tried again to push further. It hurt. "Jake I can't..." You were a moaning mess, thrusting barely the tip of your finger inside your pulsing heat. Your hips raised, tried to swallow your finger but still nothing. Jake was too busy fucking his fist slowly and sensually, moans escaping his parted lips as he was in his own world, eyes stuck to the way you tried to fuck your hand.

"You can't what?" He spoke low and strained. Voice whiny as he felt his mess spread and spread under the fabric as he was tugging at his length. "I—I need you!" You whined out, the tip of your finger teasing your clenched hole with shallow thrusts. Your thighs quievered, head tipping back as you couldn't take it — the overwhelming want to feel something against your walls, everything but your own fingers.

For a moment Jake just stared at you. Then he cursed quietly under his breath, dragging his free hand over his face before leaning his head against the couch, facing the ceiling. "Jesus…" His gaze swept over you again, slower this time, heavier, stopping a second longer on your attempts to push the finger inside. "You're going to drive me insane." He muttered, hand stopping all the movement on his cock but is resting at the base. Knowing he would need it again.

You shifted uncertainly under his stare, clearly not sure what he wanted from you, lips parted as the shallow thrusts slowed down. Jake watched you struggle for another second before he finally gestured sharply with his hand.

"Come here."

The command made your head snap up. You moved without thinking, sliding across the couch toward him until you were within reach again, your breathing still uneven. You let your arms support you, leaning back against them as your legs hesitated to spread, not knowing what to do. His free hand grazed your calf. "Spread them, princess."

You almost moaned out at the nickname, your jaw going slack as you spread your legs again eyes scanning him hungrily. One ended up on his knee, as the other was tucked right by his side and the couch. "Shirt off." Your hands automatically grabbed the hem of your baggy old shirt, pulling it over your head as you threw it on the floor, leaving you in your bra.

Jake's eyes scanned your naked upper body. Eyes nestling onto your breasts. Breasts covered by your bra. He bit his lip, eyes traveling all over you decollete as his hand went over your pulsing pussy and up your stomach. Fingers grazing the hot skin before he cupped one of your breasts. You stared at his expressions, noting down every slight change. His brows furrowed, palm sqeezing it harshly and roughly making you gasp. Your chest pushing out, arching into the touch. He kneaded it, eyes stuck to the flesh that threatened to spill from the firm cup. "Yes, fuck..." He moaned under his breath, hand in his underwear sqeezing the base of his cock, imaging the way it would feel if he fucked your tits. The warm, squishy flesh engulfing his leaking dick, letting it glide all over your chest.

He let out a hiss after one more squeeze around his girth. You let out a whine, hips raising from the couch, in search of something. Jake's eyes were still fixed on your chest as he kneaded until his fingers hooked into the bra cup — pulling it down and letting your tit spill out.

You moaned, eyes moving down to look at your naked exposed breast. Nipple stood hard and erect, sensitive to the air itself. Jake's hand was quick to flick it with his thumb, balancing it over the peak as he teased it. "Ah—yes please!" You moaned out, eyes never leaving the way he rolled your sensitive bud.

Jake finally let go of your nipple, hand moving over to his lips eyes stuck to yours. And he let his mouth engulfed two of his long digits. He sucked them delightfully, tongue going over them as he hollowed his cheeks, thrusting them in and out. Your breath hitched, muscles already trembling and aching. He coated them expertly with his spit, pulling them out and letting them glide out from his plump lips. They glistened under the lights. He spat on them, making sure they are wet and warm before he finally lowered them between your legs. To your most sensitive skin.

You felt the back of his middle finger caress your puffy slit, going up and down collecting the arousal that never seemed to stop coming. You bucked into his hand, a sharp inhale followed. Jake's eyes danced over your pulsing and hairy heat, and it made him hiss. Especially when he grazed your rough hairs, the sudden contrast to your soft and sensitive folds that drooled all over his finger.

"You are so pretty, sweetheart." He murmured, peering down at your gaping entrance before his digit prodded at it. You held your breath, stomach tightening as you felt his bigger finger enter you slowly. "Relax..." He said softly again, eyes searching for yours before he continued to push further against your walls. He felt you clamp down on him, sucking him in but still quite tensed. He pulled back slightly before thrusting repeatedly into your sopping hole, trying to relax you — to get you used to the feeling.

And you gasped. When you felt him thrust into you, wetness still sipping out of you like a fucking faucet, you tipped your head back. Jake pushed in further, feeling you pull him in with each move of his. The way he filled you up made you buck into his hand, urging him to push it all the way in. And he did. He pushed his finger all the way and you gasped. The sudden feeling new and extraordinary. But so good. He started by steadily stretching you with just one digit, eyes stuck to the way you ruined his hand with your juices.

"So tight..."

Your breath came out in short bursts now, your body reacting faster than your mind could keep up. Jake watched every little reaction like it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. His jaw tightened slightly, eyes dark as they moved over your face — flushed cheeks, parted lips, the way you struggled to steady your breathing.

His hand moved again, gliding against his heavy cock in rhythm with the thrusts of his digit into you. Imagining. Imagining the way you would later clamp around his thick cock, take it like a good little girl, bent over this couch right here. He let out a whimper, followed by a moan as he slowly sped up both of his hands.

Your fingers tightened against the couch cushion beside you as you tried to catch your breath. The warmth in your body kept building, spreading through your chest and down your spine in slow waves. A string of gradually louder moans left you, hips bucking into his hand. "J—Jake" You stuttered out, head heavy and body burning up. Everything seemed to narrow down to him and him only.

"You feel that, don't you?" He asked breathing heavy. Your lidded eyes found his heavy ones nodding quickly, not being able to form a proper sentence as you pressed your lips shut tight. Jake's eyes were fast back on the way you took him. You squeezed his finger, eyes moving to the way he was stroking himself under the material and you whined, the foot that was on his knee slightly nudging him.

A chuckle left him, almost too whiny before he muttered. "Yeah... I can tell." His gaze lifted back to your face, studying the way your eyes fluttered shut for a second before opening again. Then he pressed another finger against you entrance, stretching you wider as it glided in with ease. You moaned, arms at the back trembling as he fucked you with his fingers.

"Ah— fuck! "

His thumb pressed against your puffy clit and it seemed like you were in heaven. Your eyes dropped down to the way he split you with his fingers, the way his thumb pressed against your throbbing clit. Your pubic hair was already drenched, a mess that collected all the filthy fluid as he started rubbing your clit, smearing the wetness. All of a sudden a weird feeling started forming in the far pit of your pelvis. The strange pressure twisted deeper in your stomach, coiling tighter and tighter with every movement of his hand.

Your breathing broke into short, uneven pulls as the feeling built too fast, too intense. Your head shook weakly.

"Jake— wait—" Your voice cracked, breath catching in your throat. Panic flickered across your face as the pressure surged again, stronger this time, almost unbearable. "I— I think I'm— I'm gonna—" Jake felt your walls tense, your musles on fire. His slanted eyes suddenly sharpened, his fist abandoned his cock as his attention was fully on you.

You foot against his knee cramped, the other tight by his side sent small tremors that could be felt. Your knees pulled in slightly, threatening to pull your legs together. "I think I'm gonna pee." You blurted out breathlessly, embarrassment rushing into your face as your hips tried to retreat from his merciless hand. "Stop— Jake, stop—"

He didn't. If anything, he sat up straight, back detached form the couch as his eyes stuck to your sensitive core. The painful bulge forgotten for now as his other hand grabbed your ankle of the foot that was on his knee , holding you. His fingers sped up furiously, pistoning into you. One of your hands grabbed his wrist pushing at it, desperation creeping into your voice as the pressure wound even tighter.

"Jake— I'm serious— I can't—" Jake's eyes lifted from between your legs to your face, dark and sharp, breathing rough through parted lips. A low, almost disbelieving laugh slipped out of him. "You are not gonna pee." He said firmly. You shook your head quickly, eyes wide and pleading.

"I am— I swear I am—"

"No." His tone sharpened, cutting through your panic. Your hips tried to pull away again, but his other hand hooked under your thigh, holding you in place.

"You're not." He repeated, slower this time, breath heavy. "You're about to cum."

Your breath stuttered, vision blurring, eyes stinging as his fingers curled inside of you making them roll to the back of your head. Sound that your cunt and his fingers made filled the suffocating room. You panted and moaned, Jake holding you closer than ever as his hand played with your walls, stretching and ruining your insides.

The feeling surged again — overwhelming now, too big to contain — and you gasped, grabbing his forearm, nails digging hard.

"Jake please—"

But he didn't stop. His pace didn't slow. If anything, it grew more deliberate, more certain, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. His eyes were focused, dark as they stuck to the way your pussy ate his fingers up, sucked them in as if inviting him. His dark hair fell over his eyes, jaw tight as he kept his pace. He collected a glob of spit, heavy against his tongue before he spat down, filthy and gross, right onto your cunt.

Your body betrayed you completely. Your back arched, thighs trembling violently as the pressure climbed higher and higher, your mind scrambling to understand what was happening. Everything seemed to blur, the only thing you could comprehend was the way Jake fingered you, the earthy scent that clung into the air and his own cologne that's seemed to be everywhere around you, on him, on his furniture. Everywhere.

"I can't— I can't—" You whimpered, voice breaking, eyes going tight shut tears pricking at the corners.

Jake leaned closer, his voice low and rough and right in you face, breath brushing your lips. "Yes you can." Your whole body tensed.

"Just let it happen."

You shook your head weakly, panic and pleasure tangling together until you couldn't separate them anymore. "Jake—!"

The pressure snapped. Your voice dissolved into a broken cry as the wave finally crashed through you, your entire body jerking as the sensation ripped through your stomach and down your spine. Your hand clutched at his arm while your hips trembled uncontrollably, the intensity stealing the breath straight from your lungs.

Jake swore under his breath, watching you unravel in front of him, his grip tightening slightly as he guided you through it, forearm flexing as he slip your walls repeatedly. "That's it." He murmured, voice rough with satisfaction. "There you go." Your body kept shaking long after the first rush passed, smaller tremors still rolling through you while your head fell back, breath coming in soft, stunned gasps.

For a moment you couldn't even speak.

Jake finally slowed his digits, watching the way your chest rose and fell, the way your fingers still clung weakly to his arm. He slowly pulled out. His digits were drenched. He watched the way your arousal streched, a string of it snapping, like not wanting him to pull away. You hissed at the emptiness that followed. Your slit throbbing with aftershocks and waves of fire as you catches your breath.

Jake let go of your thigh, setting your leg over his lap, enchanted by the way your wetness clung to his fingers, spreading them and watching it stretch. He moaned, voice needy and whiny as he brought them to his lips and sucked it off. He closed his eyes in delight, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. The sight of his moaning around his fingers, made your nervous system wake up again. The pulse speeding up again as the ache between your spread legs grew heavier.

You shifted, legs tucked beneath you and hand on his chest pushing him back against the couch. You were breathing hard, eyes going over his leaned figure as you scanned his rock hard bulge. Jake was too busy sucking off your juices, enjoying it a little too much before he pulled them out of his mouth the second your shaky hands were on his waistband, pulling it down and over his cock. Jake turned his head to look at you, the way you tucked your hair behind your ears, ready to bend down, knees brushing his side as they tremored from the orgasm.

He let his hand down on his thigh, rating it there as he adjusted himself on the cozy couch, thighs spreading and hips lowering.

You were stunned. The wet stain on the from of his underwear was massive, the heavy boner imprinting onto the ruined material. Before he could utter a word you pulled his boxers too, letting his hard cock free. He moaned at the sudden air that hit his pulsing head, eyes closing in brief pleasure.

He stood tall, veiny and painfully hard. His tip raging with blood, red and oozing precum. The veins run down its length, right down to the base and you gulped. "Do you know what to do with it?" His low and needy voice made your eyes flick to his, your hands already collecting your hair and pushing it to the side, so he could have a good view. You shook your head but still was lowering down. Jake couldn't look away. The moment your lips brushed the side of his head, leaving a light kiss onto it he took a sharp breath. You let the tip of your tongue out, poking him experimentally and he shuddered. His hand shot down, grabbing his base as he held it for you. "Lick the tip." He let out as his voice trailed off into a breathy moan. "Ah shit... Just like that."

You kitty locked his tip, the wet and warm muscle feeling his heated and tense head. The fluid was salty, tangy. You moaned at the taste tongue moving from the middle of his veiny cock up to the sensitive tip. Jake’s breath hitched when you looked up at him like that.

For a second he just watched you — chest rising and falling slowly, eyes dark and half-lidded, the tension in his jaw tightening as if he was trying to hold himself together. The room felt warmer than before, the air thick with that quiet, buzzing tension that had been building between you all night.

Your lips brushed him again in a soft, testing motion.

Jake swore under his breath.

His hand slid into your hair, not rough, but firm enough to make you look back up at him. His thumb brushed along your cheek, eyes roaming over your flushed face, the parted lips, the nervous determination in your gaze. You glanced up at him, lips slick, eyes wide and pupils blown. It made him curse under his breath, the simple brush of your breath against his sensitive flesh made his muscles tense. "I have to taste you, fuck —"

His fingers flexed around your strands, pulling you harshly with the strength so unexpected. Your lips collided in a messy kiss, noses bumping as he savored you. The saltines on your lips from him, the swollen, warm flesh moving against his experienced mouth trying to catch up and seem confident.

But fuck, did he actually enjoy the exact inexperience you tried so hard to conceal.

It made him groan against your clumsy lips, your hand fisting the front of his shirt as his other hand carresed the back of your thighs, fingers digging into the skin as he dragged the leg over his lap. Finally, his neck untensed, kissing you mercilessly as you settled on his lap, each knee on the side of his thighs. Your hands found their place on his shoulders, feeling the cotton material of his shirt under your fingertips. His grip in your hair faltered, both hands moving down to your thighs, carresinh the burning skin and feeling the goosebumps pricking his hyperaware touch.

Jake kissed you messily, tongue prodding at your parted and tired lips, carresing your slow warm muscle as you struggled to get into a rhythm with his expert moves. You moaned in annoyance and neediness, thighs quivering under his palms, the innerside trickling with your wetness, the air hitting your pulsing core.

Jake pulled back slightly, eyes opening just merrily. You chased his lips, a smirk on his own as he pulled back teasingly making you whine. He squeezed your bare hips, eyes going down your chest.

And it stayed stuck there.

He kneaded your hips, his teeth already catching his bottom lip. His gaze was stuck to the way your nipple still stood erect, the bra cup pushing your flesh up as it dug under it. He dug his head lower, eyes flicking up to you before his mouth engulfed your breast. You gasped at the unfamiliar warmth around your areola, your chest jutting out at instinct.

Jake's hard lenght rested low on his abdomen, hard and pulsing against his shirt, right between you two. Jake's tongue circled your nipple, flicking it rapidly with his tongue before sucking on it again.

Your eyes never left the way he assaulted your sensitive peak, pants leaving your mouth, fingers cramping against his shoulders. His saliva coated your bare breasts, his tongue gliding against it, teasing the bud as he balanced the tip of his tongue on it. His eyes closed in delight, his other hand coming up to unclip the bra on your back. And he did it at the first try, the pressure around your ribcage and chest releasing as he pulled it off of you, mouth attached to your swollen tit as he threw it over his shoulder. He moaned, hand coming up to massage the other one, rolling your nipple between his slender fingers.

"Fuck doll..." He pulled away just merilly to take in the full picture of your tits at his mercy. Swollen. Begging to be sucked. His cock twitched, the small white pearl trickling down his lenght, drooling at the sight before him. He grasped both of your tits, pressing them together and watching the flesh collide. His tongue switching from one to the other, teasingly flicking and carresing. You could not utter a word, just silently staring in awe at the way he handled your tender body. Gasps and moan escaping you at the sinful actions you never thought about before, never knew would make your pussy throb so violently.

You shivered in his hold, hips moving helplessly against air — just searching for some minimal friction. "Could lick these tits for hours shit—" He left a slow kiss on each of your nipples, lips lingering for a second longer than necessary, as if savoring the way your body reacted to him. Your breath kept hitching in uneven pulls, chest rising and falling faster the longer he watched you unravel.

Jake leaned back just enough to take you in again.

Your bra was gone, tossed somewhere behind the couch, your chest flushed and sensitive under the warm light of the room. His hands were still wrapped around your tits, thumbs brushing slowly over your peaks like he couldn't quite stop touching you.

Your hips shifted again without meaning to, that restless desperation returning the moment he stopped paying direct attention to the heat building lower in your body. Jake noticed immediately. His eyes flicked downward, catching the movement. A quiet, amused huff escaped him. "Getting needy, huh?" He murmured.

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn't deny it this time. The high still floating through your body made it hard to hide anything — every sensation louder, every emotion closer to the surface. "Jake…" You breathed softly.

The sound of his name like that made his jaw tighten for a second. He leaned forward again, pressing another slow kiss against your chest before lifting his gaze back to yours. His eyes were glassy from the high, half-lidded and heavy, but the hunger in them hadn't faded at all.

"If I keep going like this." He muttered quietly, "I'm not gonna stop."

Your stomach flipped.

You didn't move away. Jake studied your face for a second longer, watching the way your lips parted slightly, the way you looked at him like you were waiting for whatever he decided to do next. That was all the answer he needed. A crooked smile tugged at his mouth, eyes flicking down to your hips, to the soft curls tempting him just inches away from his leaking cock. He bit his lip hard enough that his jaw flexed.

"Fuck, sweetie… I have to taste you. Now."

The words came out rough, almost desperate. The composure he'd been holding onto all night was cracking. The smoke in the room still present and still getting to the both of you. Before you could even process it, his hands were already on you.

Jake's grip slid around your hips, firm and impatient as he pulled you toward him. The sudden movement made you gasp, your hands instinctively landing on his shoulders for balance as the couch dipped beneath the two of you.

"Bout to rock your world ." He muttered, voice low and breathy, almost as a promise to himself. You gulped at his words, hands gripping onto him. There was nothing hesitant about the way he moved now. His hands guided you with a certainty that made your stomach twist, shifting you across the cushions until your bodies tangled together, you on top of his body as he layed on the couch.

You blinked, a nervous lump catching in your throat when you realized what he was doing. He pulled you in a brief deep kiss, you hands came up by his head supporting your weight. The sudden closeness made you gulp, your tits pressed against his chest, his heavy and wet cock against your stomach, your pussy drooling at just the simple feel of it. When he pulled back, his breathing was heavier now, chest rising and falling under you, hands moving form your waist to your ass, grasping and squeezing it as you moved against him from the strength. Your damp bush moved up his cock, the roughness of your hair made him hiss, eyes never leaving yours.

"Fuck… feel that? His voice dropped, rougher now, feeling your wet bush rub against him, feeling your folds drool as you went still ove him, letting him handle you." Soaked already.” He exhales through his teeth, eyes dark. "You've got no idea what you're doing to me, dont you?" Jake's grip on your hips tightened suddenly, pulling you closer against him. His eyes dragged slowly down your body before flicking back up to your face, darker now, breath heavier. His hand slid down your thigh, guiding you with a firm squeeze. "Move up a little."

You hesitated for half a second, nerves fluttering in your chest, but the way his fingers pressed insistently at your hips made you obey. You shifted on your knees and palms over him, your breath catching when his gaze followed every inch of the movement.

"Good girl." He muttered hoarsely. His hand slid to the back of your thigh, urging you higher. "C'mon… Get over me... Turn around first." He instructed quietly. You did, a little clumsily, trying not to overthink the way his eyes followed every movement. "Knees by my head, face my feet."

When you shifted again he helped position you, steady hands settling you where he wanted you. You tried to ignore the nervous flutter in your chest, awareness of his eyes over your most intimate part. Ignoring the way his hard leaking cock that you knew nothing about was right in front of your face.

"There you go." He murmured, eyes still going over your figure. Your hair slid over your shoulder as you glanced back at him nervously. Jake's gaze moved slowly over you, heat flickering through his expression as his eyes finally stopped on your heat. Your dripping and pulsing heat, damp hairs sticking to your lips due to the slimy arousal. One hand slid along your thigh, the other steady at your waist as he nudged you into place.

"Babydoll, fuuuck..." He whimpered, throwing his head back slightly against the cushion before raising it again. Your breathing had already started picking up again, chest rising and falling faster as he adjusted you more, the closeness between you suddenly overwhelming. The high still humming in your body made everything feel heavier — his hands warmer, the air thicker, your thoughts slower.

Jake exhaled sharply when you finally settled where he wanted you. "Yeah." He muttered under his breath. His fingers tightened slightly at your hips, pulling you just a little closer. "Going to eat you so good..."

You could feel the tension in him now, the way his body seemed restless with need. Even through the haze clouding his eyes, the hunger there was unmistakable.

Your stomach fluttered.

His hand slid slowly up your side, fingers brushing along your ribs before settling at your waist again. For a second he just looked at you — really looked — eyes moving over your flushed skin, your messy hair, the way your lips stayed slightly parted from your uneven breathing as you gazed at him over your bare shoulder.

"God." He muttered quietly.

Then he leaned down to your core, voice dropping low again as you could not see him anymore. "Use that pretty mouth too, would you, hm?"

And for the first time he let his tongue move all the way from your clit and up to your entrance. You shuddered at the new feeling, the tight muscle of his going right between your untouched folds, separating them so suddenly and deliberately. He hummed in delight, the feel of your slickness against his tongue and the contrast of your rough curls sent him going crazy. "Fuck..." He muttered, tongue back on you, circling your clit with the tense tip of his tongue, letting it roll and flick just right. You tried to catch your breath, tried to supress the sounds that threatened to escape you. Wanting nothing else but to please him too, your eyes darted to his hard cock, nervously thinking what to do, what would make him feel good. And when your felt Jake moan against you, his plump lips sucking at your bud you panted back, mouth agape as your hand went to wrap around him hastily. Your hand moved clumsily up and down his shaft, precum leaking with each tug you delivered. He moaned against you again, lips releasing your clit before moving up to your entrance, poking and circling it. You moaned, eyes going shut and mouth agape, your palm stroking him as you leaned all the way down to his tip.

Just as you were about to engulf his raging head, a high pitched moan erupted from your chest when his finger entered your hole, mouth moving down to your throbbing clit, sucking harshly, flicking his hungry tongue over the puffy bud that pulsed between his slick lips. "Ah—" Your hand slowed down around him, eyes going shut as your forehead dropped down briefly to his hip, searching for something to hold onto, to steady you. Your hips moved back instinctively, meeting his finger half-thrust and grinding against his suckling mouth. "You like me sucking your pussy clean, hm?" He pulled just an inch before his tongue flicked your clit, dancing around it with precision, his finger thrusting into your throbbing tight hole fast. Your hand stopped at the base of his big cock, head raising from his hip as your moaned desperately, other hand fisting his sweats.

"Fuck— Yes Daddy, yes!"

Words left your fuzzy mind without a thought, and Jake swore his heart stopped. His dick twitched. He growled against your heat in response, tongue lapping up your essence that seemed to never stop. "Yeah? You like daddy making you feel good?"

Your breath caught hard in your throat at his words, the nickname still echoing through your hazy mind like a spark to dry fuel as you hummed in response. Heat rushed through your body all at once, your fingers tightening around him where you held him at the base. For a second you almost forgot what you were doing entirely — hips trembling above him while his mouth worked against you with a hunger that made your head spin.

"C'mon princess. Don't get tired now..." He muttered against you, voice muffled and rough as his tongue dragged slowly over you again, making your thighs tense around his head. "Use that mouth too… yeah, just like that."

The command pulled you back into the moment.

Your hand began moving again, slowly at first, uncertain fingers sliding along his length while your lips finally lowered around the heated tip you'd been hovering over. The contact pulled a deep groan out of him instantly, the vibration of it sending another sharp shiver up your spine.

"Fuck…" He breathed, the word rumbling low against your skin. Your tongue moved shyly, copying what he instructed you earlier — small, curious movements, tasting the salty warmth there before your lips closed more firmly around him. Your hand followed the rhythm, sliding up and down as you tried to find a pace that felt right.

Jake's reaction was immediate. He moaned, hips bucking into your mouth and grip. His hand came down to your thigh, gripping it firmly while his finger curled inside you, thrusting a little deeper now. His mouth didn't leave you for more than a second at a time, tongue flicking and circling before sealing around your sensitive bud again with renewed focus.

"That's it…" He rasped, breath uneven now. "Look at you… learning so fast."

The praise made your stomach tighten.

You tried to keep moving for him, your mouth and hand working together clumsily but eagerly, and every small sound he made only made you want to do it better. His hips twitched beneath you, his fingers tightening slightly in your thigh while his tongue pressed harder, more deliberate now.

The rhythm between you both started to build without either of you saying it.

Your hips moved against his face helplessly, chasing the sensation each time his tongue found the exact spot that made your whole body jolt. His finger pushed in deeper, curling slightly as he felt you clench around him.

"Yeah… There you go." He murmured against you, voice low and breathless. "Feel that?"

You did.

The strange tight warmth in your stomach was back again, stronger this time — spreading through your body in waves that made it harder and harder to keep your movements steady. Your hand faltered around him for a moment, a muffled moan slipping from your throat when he pulled his finger out, vibrations around his tip sending his hips thrusting up.

Jake noticed instantly.

His arms wrapped around your thighs to keep you where he wanted you, holding you in place while his tongue moved faster, more focused now. His head moved against your pussy, eating you till he is breathless, till your essence dripped down onto his shirt, till his tongue glided against your hairy lips, sucking off the sticky mess.

Your mouth detached from him, a string of saliva snapping as you finally moaned, hand stopping all the movements over him. Your mouth went agape, eyes tight shut at the knot forming in the pit of your stomach. "I—I—Yes! Fuck!" You stuttered, crying out as you moved back against his face. He slurped you up furiously, moaning as he let your pussy drool all over his face.

Your body shuddered violently, everything seemed to shut down except him. Every nerve was alight as the heat coiled tighter and tighter in your core. Breath hitched and uneven, your chest rising and falling fast. Your hands clutched at the couch as your hips moved desperately back against him. The sensation of him beneath you, relentless and unyielding, was too much, too exquisite, and your mind could not hold back any longer.

"D—Daddy... Oh fuck!" You cried, voice breaking. Jake stiffened under you at your voice, eyes closing for a moment as he savored the sound. The nickname slipped out so naturally, so needy, it pulled a low desperate groan from his chest as he didn't let up. His tongue sucked at your clit harshly, rolling it between his plump tired lips as his two fingers found your hole again. He felt your spasming entrance pull them in, sucking greedily.

He held you there, face pressed to your most sensitive spot, tongue circling and flicking, his fingers pumping into you just enough to tease you, guiding the waves of release that kept crushing through you. Your nails dug into his sides now, pressing into his covered thighs. He hissed against you at it, his own breathing raged and desperate.

"That's it, doll... That's it." He rasped, voice low and commanding. "Feel that... Feel how good you are for me." Your high body trembled, hips jerking lightly as your climax ripped through you. Your hair stuck to your sweaty face, sticky and wild, your throat hoarse as you shivered over him. His grip on your thighs faltered, now digging into your hip as he guided you over his mouth that moved around your bud with sharp and teasing precision, keeping you riding the aftermath of your high. "So perfect, babydoll... Look at you, shaking for me." He murmured, voice rough and vibrating against your swollen pussy, his fingers pumping into you mercilessly.

Your thighs felt like jelly, shivering and trembling with each feel of his warmth against you. Your chest heavied, against his pelvis, arms shaky by his sides. Every whispered words from him sent shivers down your spine, making you arch instinctively, chasing the lingering waves of pleasure and not wanting this to end. You sobbed, vision blurry as you still grinded against his savage fingers. "Please please please— I don't want it to stop please Daddy!" You cried out, hands fisting his sweats as the pleasure started subduing, slowly being replaced by the sensitivity you never felt before.

Jake's hummed under you, feeling your weight on top of his burning body as his fingers assaulted your heat. Your gaping hole fluttered when he pulled them out, making you twitch under his eyes as he smacked your thigh. Hard. A red harsh print rising fast on your sweaty skin as the smack resonanted the room. And you jolted from it. "C'mon... Bend over the couch f'me."

You hummed in affirmation, nodding to yourself as you crawled away from him, your body tender and limp, but still the hunger kept you tethered. You grabbed the back of the couch ignoring the uncomfortable sensitivity between your slick thighs as they quivered. Your knees deeped into the cushion, your arms resting over the back rest as you positioned yourself. Slightly leaned over. Knees apart. Lower back arched.

Just the way you thought is supposed to be.

Jake was quick to eye your position, going over your side and curves. You turned your head to the side to look at him. Ruined. You were ruined. Jake hummed in delight, gaze dancing over your face as he pushed himself up. "Little girl is learning fast, hm?" His hands grabbed the hem of his shirt as he was up on his feet, moving right behind you. "Are you that eager for a cock?" He taunted, shirt on the floor by his feet as he let his knees dip into the couch bezween your apart calves. You gulped, still trying to collect yourself, to steady. The only sign of presence form him was the dipped couch right by your legs, the suffocating warmth from the proximity behind you and now his arms that came into your vision, grabbing onto the same cushion right by your own trembling hands. He moved closer, breath fanning your ear, his cock slightly brushing your ass and you froze. "Are you going to be a good girl for daddy?" His voice was low, seductive.

Jake placed a tender kiss on your shoulder, the place burning and aching. "Let me use your little virgin cunt? Hm?" He grinded his hips right on you, letting it glide between your tender asscheeks. He felt you move back against it, a whimper following. He chuckled darkly, one of his hands moving down around his cock, grasping it and leading it to your leaking folds.

"Shit baby..." His gaze was stuck to your messy heat. Tip grazing against rough hairs as they caressed his raging head. He hissed, dragging it against the slimy and sticky mess. You gasped when he dived into your slit, dragging the tip up and down your fold, separating them and watching the way they closed around his pulsing dick. He groaned when he felt your bud against his shaft, grinding and thrusting right through your mess. You shook under Jake, letting him play with you as he pleased, as he and only he wanted.

"You are going to take this dick, right sweetie?"

No answer, just a sharp inhale when his tip caught onto your clit before moving up to your entrance, tapping against your clenching hole.

"Words, pretty... I need words."

"Y—Yes..." He put a slight pressure against your gaping slit. You gasped. "Yes what?" He asked cockily, right by your ear. You closed your eyes as you inhaled sharply again, trying to form a proper sentence and ignore the way he was shallowly pressing against your pussy, trying to get the filthy words out of you.

"I-I'm going to take it..."

Jake's brows furrowed, teasingly thinking about it with a smirk tugging at his lips. He pushed the tip in with no warning and you stiffened. "Hmmm, I dont think I like that. Let's rephrase it, shall we?" He slammed in, knocking the air out of your lungs with the sudden stretch and fullness. You gripped the backrest, a sob escaping you. Too full. It was too much. Your nails dug into the cushion, bracing for more. The pain was sudden when he glided in with a sharp thrust. He stayed still, breath still fanning your cheek. "I'm going to take daddy's cock like a good little girl, say it." He bottomed out, feeling your walls relax around him before he thrusted in again. His now free hand came up to your hair, tangling into the roots as it stayed there. "I—I'm going to take daddy' s cock like a good little girl!" You sobbed out, tears threatening to drop down your hot face. He pulled back again, hips slamming against your ass hard, sending you jolting against the couch.

"Good girl...." He cooed, jutting his bottom lip out as he breathed over your ear. "See? It wasn't that hard." He started thrusting, catching the rhythm and feeling you tremble with each drag of his heavy cock against your soft velvety walls. You bit your lip, eyes tight shut as a tear rolled down your cheek. You were gripping the back rest for dear life, his hips smacking and dick dragging in and out of you made you dizzy.

When suddenly, the uncomfortable thrusting, the uncomfortable stretch started melting into something else. Your mouth opened, focusing on your breathing as you relaxed against him. Jake felt that, felt your walls relax and take him in without resistance. "That's it..." He murmured. "Take it all." His grip tightened in your hair, hips speeding up. A broken low moan escape your parted lips when he pistoned into. Your gummy walls taking him in, sucking so invitingly. Your brows furrowed, the tears drying on your warm cheeks as you let him abuse your tight cunt.

Jake delivered a kiss to your shoulder, tongue flicking your ear as he panted, chasing the friction that seemed to only dissolve with your wetness that seeped out of you. The sounds were obscene, echoing together with the forgotten low music in the background, your pants and sobs replacing it.

"So fucking tight." He groaned when he felt you squeeze him. His fingers flexed in your hair, pushing your head lower, bending your body to his will as he straightened his back, eyes moving down to the way you took him. The new slightly different angle made you moan, hips moving to meet his. Your forehead on the couch, arms dangling in front of you as he pressed harder and harder into you. The smacking sounds were filthy, your moans and his pants mixed in a spiral of frenzied hunger.

"Please please please." You uttered out, the now familiar knot forming again at the pit of your abdomen, the third orgasm on its way as the sensitivity was long forgotten. Jake's eyes moved over your back, over your hips that moved with each plunge of his into your pussy that took him so good. His cock throbbed, begging for a release. But Jake licked his lips, eyes stuck to your essence sticking to his pelvis and the base of his cock and he groaned, pulling out hastily.

"I have to fucking taste you again." He spoke through gritted teeth at your gasp of surprise at the sudden emptiness. He lowered down, his grip on the couch and your hair moving down to your hips as he was down face to face with your wetness. You raised your head, glancing over your shoulder in confusion, trying to catch your breath.

His tongue ran through your folds impatiently, moaning at your mixed arousals at it ooze out of your used hole. Fucking tainted cunt that was his to use for the first time. His to make it filthy and ruined.

You moaned, hand blindly reached behind you, finding his hair as you gripped it. "So good! Please don't stop!" You moaned out, feeling his thumbs coming to spread your lips, revealing the tender flesh that begged for his mouth. And he attached to you again, sucking and rolling your bud aggressively before moving up to your hole, thrusting his tongue repeatedly, feeling you fall apart and melt into the couch.

He pulled away, just enough to spit onto you, saliva attaching and dripping as it mixed with your slimy mess. It dripped right from your hole and moved your throbbing clit. It dipped right into your dark hair.

Jake inhaled sharply, watching it stick to the ruined, harsh hairs and before he could stop himself his tongue dived into your bush, his nose bumping at your sore bundle of nerves. He dragged his tongue around your puffy hair, moaning as he felt it scratch his hot muscle just right, feeling it graze his plump lips. "Fuck." He cursed under his breath, his hand coming down to stroke his abandoned cock furiously, tugging it fast as he raised himself again on his feet, knees back on their old position against the couch as he entered you again.

He moaned at the feel together with your desperate whine at the intrusion. Feeling him fill every space behind you. No words were exchanged as he started thrusting into you furiously, chasing his high. You squirmed under him, soft moans leaving your parted lips as he ravished you. His breath hitched as your body trembled beneath him, the warmth and closeness making his head spin. For a moment he just held you there, chest pressed against your back, his hands gripping your hips as he moved with a restless, impatient rhythm. The couch creaked faintly beneath you both, the room filled with nothing but uneven breathing and the quiet sounds of movement.

Your fingers curled into the fabric beneath you, trying to steady yourself as the sensation kept building again, softer this time but just as overwhelming. The haze from earlier still clung to your thoughts, making everything feel slower, warmer, more intense. Jake noticed immediately, a quiet groan slipped from him as he pulled you a little closer against him, his grip tightening slightly on your waist.

Jake let out a rough breath, his grip tightening on your hips as he held you exactly where he wanted you. The desperation in him was obvious now — no more restraint, no careful teasing. Just raw hunger.

"God… Listen to you." He muttered near your ear, voice hoarse and low. "All those pretty sounds and you think I'm gonna go easy on you?"

Your breath caught at the tone alone.

He leaned closer, chest pressing harder into your back, the warmth of him wrapping around you as his movements grew more impatient again. A quiet whine escaped you, and that only seemed to make him worse.

Jake let out a dark chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin as his fingers tightened slightly at your waist, keeping you from slipping away from him. "Yeah, that's it… keep making those noises." He murmured. "You've got no idea what that does to me."

Your head tipped forward, breath uneven, fingers gripping the backrest at the feel of his cock reaching deeper than ever. "" Don’t hide from me."He said, voice suddenly sharper, more commanding. One hand slid up your side, guiding your jaw to face him over your shoulder so he could see your face again. "I want to see you when you feel it."

Your eyes flicked to his, dazed and glassy. Jake groaned quietly at the sight the other hand coming between your legs to rub your clit "Fuck… There she is." He breathed, fingers speeding up against your puffy bud. "All worked up and looking at me like that."

His thumb brushed along your jaw for a second before his hand dropped back to your hip, pulling you closer again. You whimpered, your head overwhelmed with all the stimulation that you are left just breathing harshly. "You're trouble, you know that?" He muttered, breath hot against your neck, fingers never faltering against your clit as you felt the knot grow tight, at the bring f exploding. "Walking around acting all innocent, and then look what you do to me."

You shifted helplessly against him, hips trying to run from his merciless hand but was only met with his cock that plunged into you angrily, pulsing inside of you. Your breath broke into a shaky cry as the pressure inside you tightened impossibly, every nerve screaming with the intensity of it. Jake felt it — the way your body started trembling against him, the way your hips faltered as if you didn't know whether to pull away or chase the feeling harder.

"Yeah cum on my cock, sweetie. " He rasped against your ear, voice thick and dark. His arm wrapped tighter around your waist, holding you right where you were when you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation. "You feel that, huh? Been building this whole time."

You whimpered, fingers clutching blindly at his forearm, your body shaking harder with every second. He chuckled darkly against your skin, his hips fucking you into the oblivious, fingers playing with your sensitive clit. "Jake! Jake fuck!"

"Fuck…" He breathed, the sound almost a growl as he felt you come apart against him. His grip tightened on you, holding you steady while your body trembled through it, your breath coming out in broken gasps. "That's it." He murmured, voice suddenly softer but still thick with hunger. "Good girl… such a good girl."

Your nails dug into his arm as the aftershocks kept rippling through you, your body weak and shaking in his hold. Jake pressed his forehead briefly to the side of your head, his breathing just as ragged now.

"This little pussy is sucking me in so good..." He muttered hoarsely, fingers against your twitching clit stopping as he focused on the way your spasming walls took him. "Going to fucking breed you... Let everyone know you let me in your tight virgin pussy." He sped up his thrusts, the pace making you grip the couch tighter, closing your eyes as you endured. You moaned, his words sending small waves of pleasure through you. "You want that, hm?" You nodded quickly, breathing unstable and fast as spoke through gritted teeth, when the sudden tightness burst and he moaned. His cock shot ropes of white right into you, coating your walls as it pulsed. Jake's thrust slowed gradually, letting the last drops leave his throbbing lenght.

Jake's breath left him in a long, ragged exhale as the last of the tension drained from his body. For a moment he stayed exactly like that behind you, forehead resting against your shoulder, both of you breathing hard in the quiet room. The haze from earlier still clung to everything — the music faint somewhere in the background, the warmth of your bodies pressed together, the slow return of your senses after everything that had just happened. His hand slid lazily over your hip, squeezing once before he finally pulled out. His cock drained and your pussy glistening and pulsing.

You felt the movement and let out a soft, exhausted whine, your arms still braced against the couch as you tried to steady your breathing. Jake chuckled quietly behind you at the sound, the low rumble of it warm against your skin.

"Easy…" He murmured.

He shifted again, slowly pulling away and helping you sit back properly against the cushions. For a second neither of you spoke. You just sat there catching your breath, hair messy, lips parted, your body still trembling faintly from the aftershocks. The sudden uncomfortable leak of fluid from your hole made you hiss, eyes dropping between your thighs as you slightly spread them.

Jake ran a hand through his hair, letting out another breath before glancing over at you. "Hey." He said quietly, nudging your knee with his. "Look at me."

Your eyes lifted to his, still a little dazed. His expression softened slightly when he saw you like that — flushed, shy again now that the intensity had faded. "I'll grab you a Plan B later." He said, voice calmer now, almost casual despite everything that had just happened. "Just to be safe." You blinked at him, the seriousness of it cutting through the fog in your head. Then you nodded slowly, still quite not grasping the situation and everything that happened.

Jake leaned back into the couch with a tired sigh, throwing an arm across his eyes, breathing hard. "Jesus." He muttered with a crooked smile, everything coming to him in a flash. The weight falling on his shoulders he didn't expect it to. "Didn't expect tonight to go like that." Before you could answer, a sudden knock echoed from the front door.

Both of you froze.

Another knock followed, louder this time. Jake's head turned slowly toward the hallway, brows lifting slightly. "Uh…" He muttered under his breath. From outside the door, a familiar voice called out.

"Hello? Jake? Is she here?"

Your stomach dropped instantly.

Your mom.

Jake snapped his head toward you, eyes going over your naked figure before he tucked himself in his briefs, raising the sweats back over his hips. He grabbed the shirt from the floor and put it on before he spoke with a commanding and controlled voice, no sight of any panic.

"Get dressed. Quickly."

_____

! this is all work of fiction. in no way this is a representation of enhypen members nor do I believe this is how they behave in real life or condone these actions!

The federal agent currently lounging on the couch wasn’t helping either. You’d known Leon since you were children, mostly seeing him around the house when you’d come over to play with your best friend. He had kept to himself all those years ago, shooting you fleeting glances and berating you when you’d gotten too loud playing.

Boredom makes your temples throb and the thought of reading through another book makes you feel nauseous, so you settle on approaching Leon, flopping down on the other end with a heavy sigh.

“Hey,” you say, your feet nudging his thigh, “can’t you call up one of your buddies and have ‘em pick us up?”

“That’s not how it works,” Leon sighs, his eyes flitting down to stare irritatedly at your fluffy sock covered feet.

“What good is being a federal agent then?” you drawl, head tipping back over the armrest.

Leon rolls his eyes, shoving your feet away. You grumble, tucking your feet back under you before scooting forward to peer at whatever work on his laptop screen.

“Classified,” Leon says shortly, turning the screen away from you.

“Seriously, Leon?” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not like I’m going to leak government secrets to a foreign enemy.”

“You might ,” Leon grits out, sending you a glare as you try to twist your body to take another look. 

“Maybe I should be flattered that you think me capable of treason.”

Leon snorts, his eyes glancing over towards you again. “You wouldn’t last a day in the field, dork. Most likely end up getting yourself killed, or maybe even blown up.”

You glare at him, shifting again, making sure to dig your feet into his thigh a little harder as you roll over onto your side on the couch. Leon lets out a low hiss, growing irritated with your petulant behavior. He doesn’t shove your feet away like before so you settle on staying in that position, eyes slipping shut. A tiny sprig of hope unfurls inside of you; maybe if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to sleep the entire snowstorm away.

The weather doesn’t seem to let up, the wind howling outside, a chill beginning to creep into the cabin. You huff out an exasperated breath, eyes peeking open to sneak a glance at Leon. He looks engrossed in whatever he’s doing, fingers tapping against the keyboard, his brows drawn together.

Perhaps you’d struck out, getting stuck here with Leon. Sure, the federal agent stuff was mildly interesting, but he was more like a silent, grumpy lump. It sort of helped that he had a nice face, even if just to stare at. 

“‘m cold,” you mumble, sock-clad toes trying to worm under his thighs, seeking out his warmth.

“Stop complaining,” Leon grouses, nudging your legs away with his hand.

“You’re so mean,” you shoot back, eyes narrowing. “Is it because you got stuck with a desk job?”

Leon glares at you, his touch growing rougher as he grabs your ankle and throws your leg away from him. A yelp escapes you, body bending awkwardly before you straighten yourself up, curling up away from him.

“I’m a field agent,” Leon hisses, snapping his laptop shut.

You shoot him an unimpressed look, eyes flitting over him. “I don’t see a gun.”

“Yeah and it’s a good thing I didn’t bring it, because I would shoot you if I had the chance.”

A sharp scoff leaves you, arms crossing over your chest as you stand up. “You’re such a piece of sh-”

A loud screeching noise cuts you off, your brows furrowing as you glance towards the direction the sound was coming from. It doesn’t take long to figure out what’s happened when the lights in the cabin go out after a moment, the interior lit up by the flickering embers of the hearth. 

“Great,” Leon murmurs, standing up and walking towards the large windows, his eyes landing on the generator, “it’s probably frozen.”

You trail after him, a frown pulling at your lips as you stare out at the snowy tundra surrounding you in every direction.

“Is there no way to fix it?” you ask, fingers pressing up against the window.

“Maybe if we got rid of the snow,” Leon sighs, his hand running through his hair, “but the cold would probably just make it freeze up again.”

“Time to get shovelling,” you murmur, peering up at Leon.

Leon’s gaze flicks towards you, his lips thinning. “I’m not going out there.”

“What?” you ask snappily, irritation prickling across your skin, “why not?”

“Because I’ll freeze to death,” he retorts, “didn’t you watch the weather report?”

You stare at him, eye twitching at his refusal. At this rate, both of you would freeze to death if you weren’t able to get the generator up and running. You didn’t particularly trust the insulation either, although there was enough wood stocked in the spare room to maybe get you through the rest of the nights here.

“So what are you suggesting?” you ask, “that I go out and do it?”

“If you’re desperate enough,” he mutters under his breath.

“You’re the man!” you protest. “Shouldn’t you like protect me or something?”

Leon scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest as he stares down at you derisively. “You’re on your own, pipsqueak. Each man for themselves.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you snarl, stomping over to the door and yanking a jacket off of its hook. You shrug it on angrily, zipping it up tight before wrapping a scarf around your neck. “You’re pathetic, Leon!”

You grab the snow shovel, moving to open the door, only for it to not budge. There’s a moment of silence and you don’t dare look back at Leon. Setting the snow shovel down, you tug at the door handle, yanking hard. 

“Please open,” you whisper, trying to wrench the door open, “please.”

By the time you’re done grumbling and yanking, the door’s only response is a pitiful groan, failing to give way at all, completely and utterly frozen shut.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you mutter, glancing at the hinges of the door.

“Frozen in,” Leon drawls, stepping up behind you, “who would’ve thought? You know, you looked pretty pathetic trying to open it up.”

You turn around to face him, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from spewing a slew of curses at him. Your best friend would pay dearly for this debacle. Pushing past Leon, you stride purposefully into the room you were staying in, pulling free the sheets before managing to haul the mattress off of the bed frame. 

Leon watches with raised brows as you lug the mattress across the floor. You dump it onto the space just in front of the fireplace, brushing your hair out of your face before disappearing into your room again to gather the sheets and blankets.

“At least you’re resourceful?” Leon offers, following suit as he adds his mattress next to yours soon after.

The absence of heat becomes all the more apparent as the night creeps in, your body shivering and teeth chattering every now and then despite the layers you’re wearing. You and Leon settle on soup for dinner, placing the cans near the fireplace to heat them up.

“Maybe we’ll just freeze to death,” you sigh, tugging the blanket draped around your shoulders a little tighter.

Leon hums, glancing over at you. “Maybe.”

You roll your eyes at his short response, padding through the cabin and into the dark bathroom. No generator meant no lights and you weren’t willing to risk using your phone or the flashlights lest the battery ran out.

“Ouch,” you grumble when your hip hits the side of the sink, your eyes squinting in an attempt to adjust to the dark.

You’re too busy rubbing your hip to notice the dark shadow stepping into the bathroom. There’s an arm landing on your waist and you shriek, hand flying out to smack whoever it is. 

“Careful,” Leon groans when he feels you grab at his face, feeling around blindly.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, pushing at his chest.

“Keeping you company,” he shoots back, “not like there’s anything for me to do other than stare at the fire.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” you say, managing to turn the tap on. The water is entirely too cold, but thankfully not yet frozen. You hunch over, splashing some onto your face.

“Funny,” Leon replies drily, his hand slipping lower to hold your hip as you bend over.

Your breath hitches at the action and you hope Leon doesn’t notice, especially with the way you tremble when his hand smooths over your waist absentmindedly. Leon’s touching doesn’t seem to let up and you turn around in his arms, fingers prodding into his chest.

“Stop touching me, you creep.”

Leon lets out a heavy sigh, his hands falling away from you. You manage to bundle out of the bathroom, finding his eyes in the dim lighting. He stares down at you, and you tilt your head in question.

“Nothing,” he huffs out, shoving your face away with his hand.

You grumble, swatting his hand away, padding over to your makeshift bed near the fireplace. Despite the warmth of the fire, you still shiver, and snuggling in under the heap of blankets. 

Leon’s footfalls are quiet as he makes his way over, settling down on his own mattress. Silence passes over you both until a sneeze tickles at your nose, making your eyes water.

“Are you still cold?” Leon asks quietly.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you mumble back, curling up your toes in your socks, trying to bury yourself deeper under the blankets.

You miss the way Leon rolls his eyes, a squeak leaving you when you feel strong arms looping around your waist, tugging you across onto Leon’s mattress. His chest is warm against your back, the layers of blankets growing with the two of you now pressed together.

“Let- let go of me,” you grouse, trying to unlatch his arms from around you.

“No can do, pipsqueak,” he replies, keeping you close, “my sister will kill me if anything happens to you. Besides, I know you gotta little thing for me.” 

“I do not have a thing for you,” you scoff, your denial sharp. You squirm in his arms, managing to roll onto your other side to face him. “That would be gross, Leon.”

“Yeah?” Leon murmurs, his eyes drifting across your face, “you didn’t think it was gross when you told my sister you’d like to sit on my face.”

You sputter, embarrassment making your cheeks go hot. Suddenly, the chill of the snowstorm seems to fade, replaced by a heat that seems unbearable, Leon’s skin warm against yours.

“I- I did not say that!” you protest, trying to squirm out of his arms again but to no avail.

“I overheard you,” he sighs, rolling his eyes when you try to swat at his face.

“Well, fine,” you admit begrudgingly, stopping your struggling. “But you aren’t special . I could name five other guys off the top of my head that I’d enjoy.”

“Ouch,” Leon replies, his eyes boring into yours. “‘m wounded, pipsqueak.” 

You send him a glare before snuggling closer, your face shoving into his chest. Leon lets out a rough laugh, his grip on you loosening. Silence passes over you and the warmth settles down to something more cozy, making your eyes droop shut.

“Could be fun.”

“What?” you mumble sleepily.

“Could be fun if you sat on my face.”

You peek up at him, taken aback. “Have you lost your mind, Leon?”

His lips purse as he considers your words, shrugging his shoulders lazily. “Gotta kill the time somehow,” he yawns.

“‘m not sleeping with you, jerk,” you reply, trying to ignore the fact that Leon, grumpy federal agent Leon , was offering to eat you out.

He sighs, muttering something incoherent that you can barely pick up on. It doesn’t help that Leon’s managed to ruin your sleep, the image of Leon’s head between your thighs popping into your mind. Could be fun .

Leon’s already staring at you when you look back up at him, his brows raising when you play with the strings of his hoodie, twirling and twisting them.

“Do you want to?” you ask.

He considers your words, running his hand through his hair. “I could use the practice. It’s been a while.”

“I’m not a training dummy, Leon,” you retort, but Leon’s already moving, the blankets around you shifting as he pulls them off, grabbing at your sock and pajama pants. “You said it could be fun .”

“Practice can be fun,” he replies drily, pulling your pajama pants off.

You shiver when the cold hits your skin, goosebumps erupting all over immediately. Leon’s hands are warm when he slides them over your legs, his head lowering to take a look at your panties.

“Cute,” Leon murmurs, finger pulling at the band before letting the fabric snap back against your skin. 

“H- hey!” you stop him when he tries to pull them off, eyes narrowing. “You should build up to it, not just go right in.”

Leon rolls his eyes and you huff out an annoyed breath, feet pressing up against his chest. 

“C’mon, Leon,” you say, voice morphing into a taunt, “work for it.”

“You always like this?” he shoots back, glaring down at you.

You give him a snarky smile, nudging your feet against his chest again. Leon shakes his head, grabbing one of your feet. You watch as he dips his head, his lips landing on your ankle. Leon’s lips are surprisingly gentle, his eyes flitting to yours as he trails his lips up your leg, leaving hot kisses in his wake.

A soft sigh escapes you, the tenseness fading as you relax, letting your eyes slide shut as he squeezes your thighs and kisses the side of your knee.

“Good?” he asks, his voice low.

“Mhm,” you nod, hips reacting to his ministrations as he spreads you apart.

Leon’s breath is hot against your skin, his tongue darting out to lick teasingly as he covers your inner thighs with kisses. You peer down at him, reaching out to place your hand in his hair, back arching slightly when he noses into your panties.

You bite your lip when he licks over your panties, feeling wetness beginning to gather between your thighs. His eyes flutter shut when your nails scratch at his scalp lightly, lapping at your clothed pussy until the fabric is wet with his spit and your slick, clinging to your folds.

“That’s cute,” you murmur, “thought this was just practice?”

He huffs out a breath and you smile, letting him lap at your clothed cunt until he’s satisfied. Leon kisses your hip when he rises up, fingers trailing across your thighs before drifting over your panties again, rubbing the drenched material absentmindedly. 

“‘s nice,” he murmurs, reaching up to tug your panties flush against your pussy, his eyes latched onto the way it outlines your puffy folds. Leon’s fingers reach down, rubbing over your cunt, pressing your panties against you harder. He watches the way you bite back the noises that threaten to escape, his lips turning into a frown. “Don’t do that.”

You shake your head stubbornly and he glares at you, tugging your lip out from the confines of your teeth.

“Guess I’ll just have to wear you out, hm?”

Leon’s fingers are greedy as he pulls your panties free, throwing them somewhere over his shoulder.

“Kiss first,” you say quietly when he thumbs apart your sticky folds, “then lick.”

“I know how to do this,” he grunts, gripping your thighs harder to pull you closer to him.

“Well then show me- oh fuck -”

Your breath hitches when he kisses your clit, the bud swollen and aching from before when he’d licked over your panties and prodded his tongue against you. Leon grins against your cunt, his tongue lolling out to lick a stripe over your wet pussy, delving deep between your folds to drink down your slick.

“Taste good, pipsqueak,” he rasps, licking over your cunt, lapping over and over again until your thighs twitch and your hand tightens in his hair, eyes squeezing shut.

“Don’t- ngh- don’t call me that! ”

“What should I call you then?” Leon asks, pulling back to spit on your cunt, his fingers spreading over your clit and pussy, rubbing it in, his thumb drawing tight circles against your clit. “Hm? Baby, is that what you want? Maybe sweetheart? Darlin’, gorgeous, my good girl? All of ‘em?”

You can only manage out a moan, hips rolling up to meet his mouth as the pet-names ring in your mind, a haze of lust fogging over your mind. Leon lets out a hoarse laugh, prodding a finger against your fluttering hole, easing it in. 

A whimper leaves you, cunt clenching around it as he nips at your thigh, tilting his head to suck your clit into his mouth. You shudder as he suckles, tongue flicking against the throbbing bud, teeth grazing across gently. He presses another finger into your cunt, a deep groan leaving him as you clench around his fingers harder, hips jumping when he sucks at your clit with renewed fervor.

“Such a whiny baby,” Leon muses when he hears the little whimpers and whines that leave you, his hand clamping over your hip to keep you in place as you squirm. “Don’t worry sweetheart, ‘m gonna take care of you.”

You mewl, hips rolling again needily as he buries his face into your cunt, slurping and sucking noisily. It makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment, despite the fact no one can hear you for miles.

“Thought- ah- thought you were gonna let me sit on your face,” you mumble out, body shuddering when Leon curls his fingers, beginning to thrust them in and out of you.

“Is that what you want?” 

You peer down at him before managing out a nod. Leon hums, taking a measured suck of your clit and pressing a kiss to it. He pats your hip, shifting to lay on his back in response. It’s nice of him, you think, when he offers you his hand, pulling you closer as you swing your leg over his face as you peer down at him.

“Sit on my face, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of your thigh.

You flush lightly, reaching out to brush the hair that’s fallen across his forehead, running your fingers through the soft strands. Leon’s eyes slip shut and you smile, trailing your fingers over the curve of his cheek before shuffling forward, lowering yourself onto his awaiting mouth.

“Oh,” you breathe out, hands landing on the sheets above his head, gripping them tightly.

Leon groans, hands grasping at your thighs, squeezing the fat of them as he urges you to rock your hips across his mouth. It’s almost too much, the swirl of his tongue, the intensity of his gaze as he looks up at you.

“I like it when you shut up,” you murmur, giving him a smile as you drag your cunt over the length of his tongue. “So much more tolerable this way, Leon.”

Leon lets out an indignant sound and you yelp, jolting when his hand comes down on your ass, your flesh stinging. What an asshole. You glare down at him, gripping his hair harder, pulling at the strands, enough to make it hurt .

He grunts, eyes squeezing shut in pain before he grasps your hips, pulling you down flush against his mouth. Your mouth opens, a strangled moan sounding as you feel his tongue pressing into your cunt.

“N- ngh- no,” you begin to say but Leon ignores you, fucking into your cunt with your tongue.

You can hardly see straight, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. 

“Brat,” Leon snarls, slapping your ass again, “so fucking bratty, sweetheart.”

“‘m not,” you whine, squirming atop his mouth, moaning again when he sucks his clit into your mouth, tongue flicking and swirling until you’re seeing stars. “‘m not , Leon.”

“You are,” he snaps lowly, “bratty and annoying and a fucking pain the ass.” He licks over your cunt again and again. Your thighs twitch, chest heaving as you suck in short, sharp breaths, hunching over when his teeth nip at your folds carefully.

It’s the worst, or perhaps the best because it has the bridge of his nose pressing up against your clit in a way that you’ve never felt before. You rock your hips, gasping, tears pricking at your eyes when he lands another heavy slap to your ass.

“Cum, baby,” Leon hisses, his voice a low rasp, “cum on my fucking mouth. Can you do that, hm? Be a good girl for once and cum .”

You shudder, a sharp cry tearing its way out of your throat as you cum, twitching violently. There’s sweat covering your body, your eyes squeezing shut as you cum. Leon laps at your slick, drinking it down like a man starved. He squeezes your thighs and you tremble, managing to squirm off of him, slumping down over the blankets, panting as your cunt throbs.

Silence passes over the cabin, save for the soothing crackle of the fire. Leon clears his throat, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer into the warmth of his chest.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “you- uh, you good?”

“Shut up, Leon,” you grouse, still reeling from the fact that Leon had given you the best orgasm of your life.

“I didn’t mean it,” he offers quietly, calloused palm rubbing up and down your side, over the dip of your waist and curve of your hip. “Well, not all of it.”

You shift, turning to face him. Leon’s hair looks like a mess and you figure you don’t look that much better, given all the squirming and writhing you were doing earlier.

“Yeah?” you murmur, “well, I mean it when I say you’re a dick.”

“Fine,” Leon muses, a smile pulling at his lips, “I’ll let you h-”

His words are cut off when you shuffle closer, grabbing his hoodie. Your nose brushes against his gently, eyes fluttering shut as you press your lips against his tentatively. Leon sighs into your mouth, his hand squeezing at your ass, his lips working against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, letting out a soft noise when he licks into your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. He can’t help himself as he grabs at you, his hands sliding up under your thick sweater to grasp at your tits. You whimper when he pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers before tugging gently.

“Gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?” Leon whispers against your lips.

You nod, kissing him again, pulling at his hoodie. He sits up, tugging it up over his head before reaching for you, pulling your sweater off of you. Leon swallows when he sees your breasts, his hands reaching for them greedily.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs, dipping his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. You bite your lip, hands cupping the back of his head as Leon nuzzles into your breasts, mouthing at the sides of them, landing soft kisses across your sternum and up your throat before finding your lips again.

Your hands are just as greedy as his mouth, reaching down to palm him through his sweats, the bulge looking inviting. Leon moans into your mouth and you smile, pecking his lips as you dip your hand inside, curling your hand around his cock.

It’s thick and heavy when Leon pulls down his sweatpants, his cock bobbing. You lick your hips, straddling his thigh, stroking his cock slowly. Leon’s eyes are squeezed shut, his head tipped back as his hips buck up into your hand.

“‘s big, Leon,” you murmur, watching with rapt attention as thick globs of pre-cum bead at the tip of his cock.

“Y- yeah?” he whimpers, thighs twitching, “‘s all yours, sweetheart.”

You hum happily, meeting his eyes before opening your mouth, letting spit drop down from your tongue onto his cock. Leon groans brokenly, watching as you jerk him off, cum and spit mixing together. 

“Enough,” he grunts when you swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock.

You pout, shuffling back, enough to get your mouth around the head of his cock. Leon’s grumbling when your tongue swirls around his cock, his hand fisting into your hair to pull you off roughly.

“I said enough ,” Leon murmurs, moving you until you're on your hands and knees. 

“Thought you said your cock was mine ,” you drawl, wiggling your hips, ass up in the air for him. “You’re being- oh -”

A dazed sigh leaves you when you feel Leon’s mouth on you again, his thumbs spreading you apart greedily, tongue licking over your cunt. You turn your head, hazy eyes finding Leon’s hand wrapped around his cock, his grip tight as he strokes himself.

“Want your cock in me,” you mumble, drooling into the pillows when he kisses your clit.

“Greedy,” he says, rubbing his cock against your cunt for a few seconds before he presses his cock in.

You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, hips shifting away. Leon clicks his tongue, pulling your hips back, forcing you to take his cock. It’s girthy and thick, a mewl leaving you as you feel his cock stretch you out.

“That’s it,” Leon whispers, hand smoothing over the length of your back, “take my cock, sweetheart.”

You babble incoherently, leaning back into him when he drapes himself over your back, his lips on your shoulder. Leon draws his hips back before thrusting them forward, making you moan. He smiles against your skin, kissing the back of your neck before straightening out.

“Look at that,” Leon murmurs, letting out a low whistle as he spreads your wider, his fingers stroking the edges of your stretched out pussy. “Greedy cunt’s just swallowing up my cock, baby.”

“More,” you whine, starting to rock your hips back to meet his thrusts.

Leon groans, feeling your ass smack back against his hips. He grips you harder, fingers bruising against your hips, pushing down on your back to make you arch. The action has you squeaking when you lose your balance, toppling forward, cheek squishing into the pillows.

The clap of his hips against yours is embarrassing, the cold around you forgotten in the dim cabin, the thickness of his cock replacing any worries you had.

“So fucking good,” Leon snarls, tugging you up again. “Perfect fucking pussy, baby.”

You cry out when he fucks up into you, his chest flush against your back, his arm winding around your neck. Leon squeezes and you slur out a moan, head turning to sink your teeth into his bicep.

He hisses at the flare of pain, squeezing harder. Your body jolts with every thrust, eyes rolling back in delirium at how good the feel of his cock is combined with the squeeze of his arm around your neck.

“Leon!” you whimper, tipping your head back, kissing his jaw sloppily.

“‘m right here, sweetheart,” he groans, mouth slotting over yours messily.

It’s all spit and sloppy kisses, both of your bodies trembling as Leon pounds into you without abandon. The squeeze of his bicep has your vision blurring, nails digging into his thigh. Your cunt clenches and Leon whines, pressing you back down to fuck his cock into you, hand coming down on your ass hard .

“Gonna make me cum,” he rasps, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud. 

“Please,” you mewl, hugging the pillow to your chest, “please, Leon- wanna cum, wanna cum please .”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chants breathlessly, kissing your cheek, “wait, where- fuck, baby- where do you want it?”

“In- nghhh- in me,” you beg, hooking your foot awkwardly around his leg, trying to keep him from pulling out. “Cum inside , Leon. Want your cum.”

“Shit,” Leon groans, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, his hips humping into your cunt as he loses himself in the tight clench of your pussy. “Sweetheart, you gotta let go.”

“N- nooo,” you whine, shaking your head, wiggling your hips back so his cock presses into you deeper.

He moans, the sound deep and guttural and it has you moaning too, cunt clenching around him like a vice. 

“Pussy’s not letting me go,” Leon snarls, cock driving into you deeper as he slows his thrusts, opting to roll his hips instead. “Fine, ‘m gonna give you my cum, sweetheart. Gonna fill this greedy, little pussy up.” 

You slur out a response, face shoved into the pillow, writhing as Leon rubs your clit a few more times. He curses when you squeeze around him again, slumping over you as his cock twitches, hot cum spilling into you. You bite your lip, dazed and sated as you cum with him, pussy fluttering around his cock.

Leon kisses your neck, panting as he lets his forehead rest against your back. His softening cock slips out of you and Leon turns you on your back, dipping his head to kiss you deeply. You wrap your arm around his neck loosely, sighing contentedly as he massages your hips and thighs.

“I’ll be back,” he whispers against your lips.

You nod, laying there limp. Leon returns with a dry cloth, his lips lingering on your stomach and hip as he cleans you up.

He tugs you into his chest after, kissing your cheek and letting you burrow into his warmth. Your fingers slide through his hair, playing with the soft strands absentmindedly as he smooths his hand over your side, dropping a kiss to your head every now and then.

“So was that good for practice?” you ask, feigning innocence.

Leon huffs out a laugh, his hand squeezing at your waist. “Yeah,” he says, thumb stroking over the curve of your hip, “real good, baby.”

You hum happily, smiling when he tilts his head, kissing you again.

“Does this mean I can see your work?”

“No,” he replies drily, smiling against your cheek. “Still classified, sweetheart.”

“Well, what can I do to un -classify it?”

Leon grins. “I can think of a few things.”

-

“Bring me any souvenirs?” you call out, leaning against the side of your car.

Leon rolls his eyes, dumping his duffle bag onto the ground, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You laugh, letting him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, humming in amusement when he grumbles.

“You’re meant to say you missed me.”

You did miss Leon. After the snowstorm had receded, you’d still been unable to keep your hands off one another, even when you’d returned home. He’d been called on some mission some months later, and now here you were, picking him up.

“Just a smidge,” you murmur, biting your lip when he noses into your cheek, pressing soft kisses across your skin.

You turn your head, cupping his cheeks to pull him closer, kissing him deeply. Leon smiles against your lips, holding you tighter, arms squeezing around you. “Maybe a lot,” you whisper, landing another kiss to his lips.

“I missed you too,” he sighs, tucking your hair behind your ear and pressing a kiss to your forehead. Leon’s lips drift, dragging down over the side of your cheek and to your jaw. He presses you against the cool metal of your car, one of his hands drifting under your skirt.

“Know that pretty pussy missed me too,” he murmurs, “‘s why you sent me all those videos, right?”

“Shut up, Leon.”

“Oh c’mon,” Leon drawls, pulling you back into his chest when you try opening the door to your car, “I liked ‘em, sweetheart.”

He kisses your neck heatedly, a soft whine making its way out of your throat when he squeezes the fat of your ass and pats it affectionately.

“We should go home,” you whisper breathily.

“Yeah,” Leon murmurs, his hand forward to cup your pussy, stroking it through your panties. “Car’s right here though.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse when Leon speaks again.

Leon worked in his home office, which was cluttered with papers and office supplies, and the only decoration on his desk was his laptop. The clicking of keys filled the room as he worked on his report. Leon frowned slightly in concentration, completely focused on the task at hand, and occasionally adjusted his glasses when he felt them slipping down his nose.

But under the table, he could hear his cock in your mouth, the wet slurping sounds of your eager sucking filling the room, an obscene contrast to the mundane sounds of the printer and the muffled hum of the laptop. He seemed almost oblivious to it, his fingers never stopping their relentless typing, as if his cock wasn't currently deep in your throat.

How could he act like it didn't bother him?

Leon could feel your throat pleasantly tighten as you tried to take him deep. His pale blue eyes scanned his own words and corrected a few grammatical errors, holding the pen between his trembling fingers.

His other hand was in your hair as he gently massaged your head, and your nails dug into his thighs, covered in sweatpants, while his cock rested perfectly on your tongue. Warming him with your mouth, you wanted to show your husband how much you wanted to distract him from work.

After all, he works so much that he forgets to rest, having already drunk several cups of coffee... five or maybe six... he lost count because he had to rethink the mission for the report in his head, even though he wanted to forget it once and for all in his life.

You gently ran your tongue over every bump, vein, and protrusion, making soft smacking sounds so as not to drool everywhere. But, to be honest, you're still making a mess on the floor; your saliva and his pre-ejaculate are dripping from your chin. And all this is because he was heavy for your tongue, but that weight brought you a feeling of comfort, and you happily closed your eyes.

When you felt someone gently pull your hair, your eyes flew open before you saw Leon looking down at you through his eyelashes, “you really want to distract me, huh?”, he quietly praises you as his hand slides from your hair to your face, his rough hands gently caressing the delicate skin of your slightly flushed cheek.

Instead of answering, you took it deeper into your mouth, which triggered your gag reflex, but you ignored it when you heard Leon's deep moan. That sound alone was enough to make your thighs clench.

And so as not to lose control completely, Leon began to furiously scratch at the report with his pen, making notes and corrections and squeezing it so hard that it was surprising he hadn't broken it yet. His mind was no longer as focused, but he tried to concentrate on the task at hand. He was like a machine, a well-oiled mechanism, and nothing could distract him from his goal. That is, until you walked in with a loud complaint that he had been sitting there all day without a break.

With his free hand, he gathered your hair into an improvised ponytail so it wouldn't fall on your face and used your hair as leverage. The dull, aching pain in your jaw was distracting, but you pushed the thought aside and tilted your head back slightly to give yourself some room to swallow the precum that was already in your mouth.

You gently sucked the tip of his cock, making his lips moan softly before you began to move your head at a steady pace, sucking in your cheeks. At first, you didn't even notice him rocking his hips in time with the movement of your head as you tried to take him deeper, but it caused you to choke slightly, and you felt his thumb gently caress your cheek, wiping a tear from your cheek, “don't overdo it, sweetheart.”

You looked up and saw lust in his eyes, but also affection; the desire to please him came sharply, just as he had done for you countless times. You used your hands to get what you wanted before you felt him twitch on your tongue, knowing he was close to the end. Hearing his moans, taking a deep breath through your nose, you decided to push Leon's cock deep into your throat until your nose touched his pubic bone and the head of his cock touched the back of your throat.

“Princess... oh, fuck...” he clenched his teeth, feeling that he was about to cum in your mouth. His mind was too foggy to think, and thanks to you, he completely forgot about his work right now. Leon's breathing became more and more ragged, his chest heaved heavily with each breath, and he tried with all his might to concentrate. He felt his heart pounding wildly, unable to comprehend that he was so close. You heard Leon curse loudly and felt his body tense, then a thick stream of semen filled your tongue and throat.

A few tears rolled down your cheeks as you tried your best to swallow as much as you could, but with a soft pop, you covered your mouth with your hand because there was very little semen left in it, and swallowed the rest before coughing slightly.

The hair he was holding fell as he leaned back in his chair and tried to catch his breath, just like you are now, pressing your forehead against your knee and closing your eyes, “Are you okay, princess?” he asked you anxiously, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

He was as disheveled as you were: a drop of sweat ran down his temple, and goosebumps ran across his body after his recent orgasm. His strong arms wrapped around your body as you barely stood on your feet, keeping you from falling. Although you collapsed on top of him, facing him, it made him laugh, but he understood that you were tired too, “yeah, I'm fine... just give me a couple of seconds,” you ask him in a voice muffled by his skin.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

He’d shut himself inside the confessional booth a few minutes ago because he absolutely needed to get his mind off certain things. Those meetings always left him feeling like a damned pressure cooker, and he always needed to let out some steam after. 

All that arguing, and having to keep his cool and maintain composure when all he wanted to do was yell and tell them all that he was right and they were wrong. It had to be the generational gap, but sometimes he felt like he was being tortured with how much his mindset differed from those of his superiors. Why couldn’t they just let him do things his way? 

But he pushed all that aside for a moment. Just a moment, that’s all he needed. Fist wrapped around his throbbing cock, his spit and precum giving him just the right amount of lubricant, his head thrown back against the thick wood as he worked his fist up and down his cock, as fast as he could. 

He tried to keep his gasps and moans as quiet as possible. It was late in the afternoon, there wouldn’t be anyone around during this time, but just in case. A groan left his lips anyway, and he bit his lip immediately after. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… 

He could hear how fast his fist moved, the friction was almost just as good as how he remembered sinking into a warm body felt like. Almost, not quite as exhilarating though. 

Fuck! 

A few more tugs, a couple more unrestrained moans later, and he came with a loud sigh. Spilling all over his hand, gasping for breath as he blinked a couple times, already feeling his thoughts flowing much easier. His all black suit, his collar around his neck didn’t feel as tight and constricting anymore. 

He quickly cleaned himself up with a handkerchief he’d have to put in the trash later, he sighed one more time as he made sure to fix his clothes and was about to walk out of the booth when he heard a timid, soft, almost hesitant voice ask: 

“Are you done, Father?” 

He froze. 

Shit. 

He cleared his throat. It sounded like a young woman on the other side. He tried to look but the screen only allowed him a partial view of your face. Okay, okay, don’t panic. He could still get out of this situation. Maybe you didn’t hear what he was doing. Maybe you’d just gotten in here. Maybe you were too naive to even know what those sounds were. 

He cleared his throat again, “How, uh, how long have you been waiting for?” He tried his hardest to sound apologetic for making you wait. 

A moment of silence. Then you replied, “Long enough.” 

That voice. He knew that voice, didn’t he? 

He said your name out loud. A pause then, “Is it you?” He asked. 

A sigh. Then, “Yes, Father.” 

Ah. He let out a quiet breath, relieved. 

He had no reason to worry if it was you. You were what he called a lost little lamb, too innocent for her own good. He knew your family. They were nice people who frequented the church, and lately your parents had been worried about you since they found out that you had a troublesome boyfriend who was nowhere near the god-fearing type your family wanted you to date. 

He also knew that you, unlike your parents, were not seen very often at church. He saw you here and there, sometimes at charity events, or sometimes at the tennis court with your mom. But never in the confessional booth. 

Father Charlie sat up straight, looked ahead at the wooden door and asked, “This is your first confession?” 

“Yes, Father.” 

“And what would you like to confess?” He asked, knowing he was going about this all wrong. No signs of the cross, no ‘Bless me Father for I have sinned’, but he was impatient and… intrigued. What could a shy, timid girl like you have to confess?

“I… I slept with my boyfriend.” 

He couldn’t help but turn towards the screen. He watched you as you fidgeted and squirmed. “Did you?” He didn’t recognise his own voice. 

“Yes, Father.” You answered. “But that’s not all.” 

“Oh?” 

A trembled sigh left your lips, then you said, “While we were, um, when he was...” You struggled to speak. 

And Father Charlie felt weirdly interested all of a sudden, so he urged, “It’s okay, you’re safe here.” He cooed gently, using the soothing voice he always used with everyone. “Use your big girl words, come on. When he was, what?” 

“Father, I cannot say it.” Your words sounded heavy with shame. 

So he urged you even further, “Like I said, you’re safe here. Now tell me. When he was, what? On top of you? Fucking you? What happened, did he hurt you?” 

“No,” You said quickly. “No, he was… gentle.” 

Father Charlie raised an eyebrow, “And?” 

You let out a shaky breath and confessed, “I wanted him to…” You trailed off, “I know it’s wrong to want these kinds of things, but I didn’t want him to be gentle. I wanted him to be rough. To make it hurt.” 

Another shaky breath left your lips, and this time Father Charlie felt like he was the tormented one. He frowned as he looked down and noticed that he was hard again. Shit. 

He cleared his throat again. “I see.” 

But you were quick to add, “It’s wrong, isn’t it? To want things like that? Isn’t it, Father?” 

There was a strangely innocent desperation in your voice even as you referred to sinful things. The kind of innocence he wanted to take into his hands and crumble it into pieces but also preserve it at the same time. 

Fuck, he was hard. And it was painful because you were right there. 

“Depends,” He answered, “What other things do you find yourself wanting?” A small, quiet gasp left your mouth. Father Charlie caught himself smirking at the sound of it. “And don’t lie. I can’t help you if you lie.” He noticed movement on the other side of the screen. Maybe your hand touching your neck out of nervousness. 

“I… I like being told what to do. I like authority. I like…,” You gasped, as if not believing you were actually saying all this out loud, “I like it, I mean I like the idea of men being mean to me, in bed. I want them to take what they want from me, with consent of course. But I don’t want them to be gentle about it.” 

Oh fuck. 

“That’s, uh…” He found himself at a loss for words. His cock was making his trousers tighter. His hands were shaking with the need to grab and feel a warm body. Preferably that of a shy young woman who thought she should be ashamed of her desires. “Yes, that’s not right.” He did his best to sound stern and disappointed. 

A soft sound came from the other side. Sounding a lot like a sniffle. “I’m sorry, Father.” You whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “I should go.” 

It all happened too quickly. The sound of the door opening, the sound of you trying to rush and get out. Before he knew it, he was out of the booth as well and stopping you from leaving. Your wrist in his hand, his chest heaving, tears down your face, a shocked look in your eyes. 

“Did I say you could leave?” He asked, looking down at you and noticing the way you didn’t even fight him. Aww, a lost little lamb indeed. 

“No.” You whispered, going along with the movement as he walked you backwards until your back hit the nearest wall, beside the booth. 

“You’re disobedient,” He noted, “I should punish you for that.” 

“Yes,” You mumbled, like you were ready to be punished for your sins. 

“Yes, what?” He chided. 

“Yes, Father.” 

And oh, how he would’ve loved to have you on your knees in front of him. To have his cock in your mouth. To make real tears stream down your face, ruining your makeup. But he didn't have too much time. 

He stepped closer, trapping you between the wall and his hard body. He noted the way your eyes remained fixated on his white collar, those teary, innocent eyes. You didn’t even know the treasure you were. 

“Look at me,” He ordered. 

You did. Unable to look away once you did. 

“You’ve been a bad girl, you know that, don’t you?” He asked. You nodded at him. “And I need to punish you, because I need to make sure you’re good from now on, don’t I?” You nodded at his words again. “Good,” He whispered, then grabbed both your hands and placed them on his shoulders as he leaned in and pressed his mouth to yours. 

He fucking that little gasp of surprise that left your mouth as he kissed you, hot and messy. His hands reached down and bunched your dress up before he slipped his hand in between your legs.

He chuckled into the kiss when he felt your flimsy underwear. “See now, good girls don’t wear things like this. You understand?” He whispered, running his knuckles along your wet folds and smearing your arousal around through the thin fabric. “I’m gonna have to take it off, okay?” 

You nodded again. 

And he did, he slid your underwear down until it fell to your ankles. He watched as you stepped out of them and he immediately slid his knee in between your legs, followed by his hand again. “This is all part of your punishment,” He whispered into your ear, and watched how you shivered upon feeling his warm breath. He slipped his two fingers into you with ease and smirked against your skin as he felt your arousal coating his fingers, which he curled inside of you, hitting all the spots which made you gasp and moan.

You whimpered and closed your eyes, sighing and moaning when he leaned down and nibbled on your skin around your throat. He chuckled, sliding his fingers in and out of you, “See what a little slut you are? Cheating on your boyfriend, and letting me touch you however I please,” He scoffed, “Is this what you came to do? Was this your intention?” 

You bucked your hips against his hand impatiently. “Please,” You murmured. 

He pulled his fingers out, and messed with his belt, undoing it and the zipper on his trousers until he pulled his cock out. “Please what?” He asked, rubbing his wet fingers along his hard cock, “Huh? What do you want?” 

You looked up at him, pleading with your eyes. 

“Oh?” He taunted, “You want this cock? Huh?” He leaned in and grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks together, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke in a lowered voice that sent shivers down your back, “Does this little slut need a cock in her?” 

“Yes,” You murmured, unable to take it anymore. 

“Yes, what?” He growled. 

“Yes, Father.” You quickly corrected yourself. 

He smirked, smug. Then he lifted you up until you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your back against the wall, and the two of you partially hidden by the booth. His cock briefly brushed against your wet folds in the process and you moaned out loud. 

“Shh,” He reminded you, “Quiet.” 

“Please,” You whined, eyes shut. “Please, Father…” 

“Shut up,” He hissed as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. “Shut your needy little mouth up.” 

You moaned as he pushed himself into you. Stretching you out as he went. His nails digging painfully into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours sliding into his hair as he filled you up nicely. 

“So fucking wet for me…” He whispered against your cheek as he rocked in and out of you. “I bet you’re not this wet for your little boyfriend, huh? Does he feel this good? This big?” He chuckled. “Does he know you let random men fuck you?” 

You were a mess, moaning and whimpering when he began moving in and out of you. His cock reached places that had you whining out loud. 

“Shh,” He hissed again, “Shut up, you little slut. Shut the fuck up.” He groaned as he fucked you. He kept an eye on your surroundings, just in case someone wandered in. 

But you kept moaning like crazy so he did the only thing his lust-filled brain could think of, he brought out his soiled handkerchief from earlier and shoved it in your mouth, and slapped his hand over your mouth. “Yeah, that’ll shut your filthy mouth up, huh? Is this what you wanted? Your boyfriend doesn’t fuck you like the needy little whore you are, does he?” 

Your moans sounded muffled now, and he fucked you relentlessly, earning more and more muffled whines and moans and whimpers out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. He loved the way your eyes rolled back when he fucked you harder, reaching deeper. 

He pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the wall with each thrust. “Filthy girl.” He sped up into you again, making you cry out. “So fucking desperate, aren’t you? You couldn’t help but spread your legs for me, huh? Even for a man of God? You couldn’t help it.” He taunted. “What else would you do for me? Would you come here everyday and let me have you? Hmm? Would you let me fuck your needy little pussy like your boyfriend can’t?” 

He knew you couldn’t answer him, so he chuckled and continued as he felt your walls clench around his cock. Fuck, he had missed this. He’d missed making a beautiful girl lose control while he was inside her. He knew you couldn’t think right, he was so fucking deep inside you that all you could do was whine and cry, and let him take what he wanted from you. Which is exactly what he did. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking you harder and faster against the wall. 

His hand left your mouth, making sure his handkerchief remained nice and snug in there, and reached down until he wrapped his fingers around your throat, he squeezed just enough to make your eyes widen. “Yes,” He goaded you, “You like that, don’t you? Your messed up little head likes this,” He taunted. “It’s filthy in there, isn’t it? You think about these things at night? When you touch yourself before going to bed? Is this what you’ll be thinking about from now on?” 

Your body shuddered, trembling in pleasure. He looked down and noticed the slight cleavage of your sweet little dress. Fuck, he wished he had time to really peel it off your body and have you crawl around naked just so he could look at you. He was sure he could spend a lot of time just looking. 

“He doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” He chuckled, his body moving expertly against yours, “No, how could he? He’s just a boy. He wouldn’t even know what to do with a dirty girl like you.” He leaned in, whispering against your wet cheek, “This is what you needed. I’m what you need.” 

Your mind was a foggy mess already, and he could tell by the muffled by wanton moans that he could still hear that you were so, so close. 

“I bet he doesn’t even come inside you, does he?” He scoffed, “I think he’d be too scared to do that.” He pulled away and looked into your eyes. “But you want me to come inside you, don’t you? Remember, it’s all part of your punishment. You wanna be a good girl and take all of it, don’t you?” 

You nodded quickly, more tears streaming down your face. 

“Go on then, you little slut. Come for me. Come all over this cock like the needy, desperate whore you are.” He let out a strained moan, “I said,” He spoke, menacingly, “Come for me!” 

Your body tensed up, legs tightening around his waist, hands tugging at his hair, before you let go and came undone around his cock. Walls clenching around him, nails scratching his neck and a loud muffled moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. 

Father Charlie groaned as he came shortly after, spilling inside of you. And fuck, even he could feel how much he filled you up. 

He pulled the now wet cloth out of your mouth as you both felt his warm cum dripping down your inner thighs. He replaced the handkerchief with his fingers, gliding two of them across your tongue, in and out of your lips as he said, “You’ll come back, won’t you?” He whispered against the corner of your mouth as you caught your breath while sucking on his fingers. “Now that you got a taste of what it’s like, you’ll be back as often as you can just to let me fuck you again. Won’t you, little lamb?” 

—

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been worried out of my mind! You’ve never bitch buttoned me before!” Bucky snapped, following you to the kitchen from his seat on the couch.

“I told you I had a date, Buck.” You laughed, sitting you keys in the mug that was designated for them at some point.

“I know, I can smell the cheap cologne. And, you know our deal. Did you break our deal?”

“Why’re you so worried about it? What’s going on with you?” You looked up at him, amused by his behavior as he swallowed hard.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Bucky shrugged. “I just wanna know if you fucked him.” He said, shaking his head. “We had a deal. If you fucked him, that deal would be off. And, I can smell his shitty cologne all over you.”

“You’ve been on dates too, James.” You pointed, getting an eye roll in response. “Keep doing that and they’ll get stuck.”

“I haven’t slept with any of my dates. I don’t want to. I have everything I need right here, in this apartment, between those pretty thighs. I don’t need to go find something else.”

“I didn’t sleep with him, okay?”

Relief washed over Bucky, the only reaction he seemed to muster being to smash his lips to yours. Hands finding your waist to pull you to the cold tile floor with him. “Buck-”

“Just tell me no.” He breathed out, shoving the skirt of your dress up as he slotted between your thighs and pulled your underwear to the side.

“Keep going.”

A content sigh slipped out when two fingers ran along your slit, Bucky’s hot mouth leaving wet kisses along your throat as he eased them in. Curling and twisting them against your velveyy walls as your fingers weaved through his hair. Biting back mewls and whines as he fucked his fingers into you, pressing his thumb to your clit.

“Buck- oh, fuck, Bucky.” You cried out as he applied just the right amount of pressure to the sensitive nub, bionic arm reaching to pull at the front of your dress until your chest was bare to him. His mouth latching to one of your pebbled buds and tongue flicking over it. “Gonna- holy shit-”

Your eyes screwed shut, hands fisting into the front of his shirt as your orgasm washed over you. Bucky’s teeth grazing your jaw as he removed his fingers and yanked at the fabric of your underwear, the lacy material ripping with ease.

Gripping the front of his shirt, you pulled until the buttons popped off. Mouth falling open when he slammed into you, Bucky taking the opportunity to slot his mouth over yours. Tongues pressing together in the hungry kiss.

The feverish pace his hips kept made it hard to do anything but pant and moan his name as his pleasured sounds flooded your ears. Body overwhelmed by the full sensation as he took you apart again, thick cock hitting every sweet spot in the most delicious way.

“S’fucking good- love how you feel around me, doll face.” Bucky grunted, tingles spreading down his neck when you tugged the back of his hair.

The familiar feeling in your lower belly formed again, the tile floor doing nothing to help cool your heated skin as the bubbling pleasure started to overflow. Fraying every nerve and raising goosebumps to your skin as you tightened your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. Rhythm of his thrusts going sloppy as his lips smothered your again.

“Shit-“ Bucky hissed against your mouth, hips stuttering when he spilled into you with a drawn out moan. Riding through both of your afterglows with short, gentle thrusts.

You shivered from the empty feeling left behind as he slipped from between your thighs, adjusting your dress and placing a brisk kiss to your lips.

“We good?” He asked quietly, tucking himself back into his pants.

“We’re perfect.” You grinned as you sat up. Bucky letting out a heavy sigh as he leaned back against the cabinets.

“Are we toxic?”

“I don’t think so.” You laughed, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

He fidgeted with his fingers, eyes glued to them as he thought over whatever was going through his mind.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have reacted like that. We aren’t together, it’s not my place.” He murmured, a playful grin cracking across your face.

“I dunno, how you reacted makes me wanna do it again.” You teased, shrugging your shoulders as he gave a daring look.

“Behave yourself.”

————

Saturday mornings were always your favorite time of the week.

Waking up maybe a little too late in the afternoon in Bucky’s bed, usually greeted by a warm smile and cup of coffee the moment you sat up.

Only this time you woke up first.

Bucky still sound asleep behind you, early afternoon sun streaming through the blinds as you turned to face him. Sharp features relaxed and breathing shallow.

He stirred when you brushed your fingertips to his cheek, a content sigh passing his parted lips.

“Morning,” he hummed, gruff morning voice filling your ears like music.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you poked a finger into his stomach. “‘M bored.”

“How long have you been awake?” Bucky asked, eyes still closed as he reached an arm out towards to.

“Only around five minutes.”

“Five minutes?” He chuckled, pulling you into his chest. “Can’t be that bored.”

“Well, not just bored.” You hinted, tilting your head back to look at him as he peaked an eye open at you. A wide grin spreading across his face and suddenly fully awake as he urged you onto your back, his broad frame settling between your thighs.

“Now?” He beamed, metallic left arm whirring in your ear as he propped himself up on it.

You let out a quiet laugh and shook your head. “Not yet.” You smiled, lacing your fingers in the back of his hair to pull his lips to yours.

“That’s fine, baby.” He murmured against your lips, warm hand splayed on your hip.

Bucky didn’t miss having sex- how could he when he had the chance to spend these mornings with you?

Your fingertips featherlight as they trailed down towards the waistband of his briefs, lips engulfing each other and breaths being shared.

He just missed the connection, being completely open and bare to another person. Trusting someone with yourself and insecurities.

But, in these moments, it felt worth it.

Dipping his hand in the front of his briefs to palm his already hard cock as your fingers slipped into your underwear. Circling your clit as you both lost yourselves in the slow kiss, tongues pressing together and teeth nipping lips. Bucky grazing his lips along your jaw and down the column of your throat, nipping and sucking the skin until a mark formed.

Though, he could see a difference in your heavenly sounds. How much needier they were this time as a breathy whine of his name drew his attention back to your face.

“‘M right here, darling.” He cooed, nipping your lips with his. Pulling the front of his briefs down to free his erection.

The seductive tone of his voice made your heart pound just a little faster and a whimper fall from your lips, your hand not doing the same for you as it had before. Every angle, speed and amount of pressure you applied just not doing it.

“Do we need to stop?” Bucky asked, slowly fisting over himself in case you were needing to stop.

“Everything’s fine,” you said with a shake of your head, being met by lustful blues when you peaked your eyes open. The careful graze of his warm fingers along the inside of your thigh making you clench around nothing, wishing you could just open your mouth a beg for him to help you. Instead, biting your tongue in fear of crossing the paper thin line.

Your back arched when his bulbous head barely knocked into your clit, a blush creeping up his neck. “Sorry, didn’t mean to.” Bucky scrambled out before your lips were on his again.

Hungrier than the last kiss, but just as breathtaking as your hand found it’s way down his perfectly sculpted abdomen. Stopping where the neatly trimmed hair started at his base. “Just tell me and I’ll help.”

“Please,”

To you it sounded pitiful. But, to Bucky, it was enough to have his hips rocking forward into your hand the moment your fingers wrapped around his shaft. His own going into your underwear, groaning at the arousal that coated your folds.

“S’fucking wet,” He huffed, easing his middle finger into your clenching walls. “And tight, shit.”

“James,” you moaned, grinding against his palm. Focusing the pump of your hand on the thick head of his cock. Pre-cum helping you glide along the silky skin.

Adding a second finger and curling the two digits against the rough patch just inside your cunt, your head tipped back in a choked out moan. His fingers stretching you more than your own and finding just the right spot instantly.

“I know, darling. I’ve got you.” He purred, choking on a moan when you flicked your wrist. The swirling sensation at his base cresting higher when your free hand slipped down to massage his heavy sac. Gently rolling it in your palm as your skin grew hotter with each passing second.

The softer feel of your hand drove his mind into a fog, gently twisting and tugging as his face buried in the crook of your neck. Trying to focus on bringing you to your high first, stroking your velvety walls until your thighs started quivering. The pitch of your moans and whines going higher until his name was a jumbled chant on the tip of your tongue.

Every nerve frayed as you released around his long, nimble fingers. Stroking him with the same purpose, lost in the pleasure of your high as he rocked his hips in the same rhythm as your hand.

“Ah,” Bucky hissed, hot puffs of breath fanning your collarbone when the roll of his hips went frantic. Fucking into your hand as he worked you through your own aftershocks. “Gonna come-“

You didn’t even register the first warm spurt through your foggy state. His spend coating your stomach and hand as you stroked him through it, peppering kisses along his shoulder as a shudder rolled down his spine.

The warmth that engulfed him was enough to melt away the fact that you were there with him under a contract, that you weren’t truly his.

————

“Would you just let the serum do its job?” he sneers back, but lets you pull him closer anyway as he drops his head back down, his elbows resting on his pulled up knees.

“I think it has proven to not do its job, don’t you think?” you snarl and wind the needle through his flesh again, finding it harder and harder to be careful if he keeps snapping at you like this. But your reasoning seems to shut him up since all you can hear now are small groans from the back of his throat when you tug at the torn skin.

The healing powers the serum usually served Bucky with, have abandoned him and you have a feeling it’s because he has barely slept in the past two weeks and your current mission is an assignment from hell that has lasted longer than any of you anticipated.

Yesterday, a fish hook back at the harbour had made a gnarly gash into the flesh of Bucky’s shoulder and you’d never heard him roar like that before. However, once he saw you, he quickly composed himself and made sure the two of you got out of there and onto the nearest jet. That’s where you got clear instructions from Steve to make it to one of the safe houses on the other side of the world. Why so far away, you had no idea, but you assumed the team had to split up because the intel Steve and Natasha were after gave them information that could harm the entire team.

This whole ordeal seems far from over.

So now you’re stuck on a jet for ten hours with Bucky sitting down between your legs and you situated on one of the crates in the loading space as the jet navigates through the storm on autopilot. It’s been four hours and you had slapped Bucky over the head when you realised that his wound hadn’t started healing yet at all, activating autopilot as you grabbed Bucky by his jacket and dragged him back. You were surprised that in spite of his whining and grumbling, he didn’t use his superstrength to stop you.

You’re confused that the serum could ever even heal a wound like this since you’re sure the tissue was stretched too far. So to prevent infection and improve the self healing, you offered – well… forced – him to let you stitch him up. One glare of yours and Bucky decided not to fight you on it. Besides, he couldn’t bring up the energy anyway, especially not against you.

Bucky is exhausted and the feeling of your warm thighs against his sides as you stitch him up, combined with the rumbling of the plane, almost has him lulled to sleep. After all, a soldier can sleep in any condition. Until of course, a nightmare makes the bliss dissipate.

Finishing up your handiwork, you gently clean the wound once more, making Bucky clasp onto your calves for support, before having it covered with a large bandage.

“You good?” you ask him as you throw the contaminated materials away.

“What the hell do you think?” he grunts and you flick him in the head.

“You’re welcome, you ungrateful dick.”

Bucky lets out a huff as you come to a stand, walking over to the side of the jet and pulling out one of the bunks. Moving over to one of the stocking cabinets, you find a sweater around his size and throw it in his direction.

“Put this on and for everyone’s sake, get some fucking sleep. You’re unbearable to be around,” you order and walk forward again, slipping back into the pilot seat as you check the coordinates again, hoping the storm didn’t mess with your course.

“How are you so aggressive when you’re trying to help?” he grumbles under his breath, not quite low enough or you not to hear. So you turn your head to give him another look and you see him struggling to walk. Quickly coming back to a stand to jump to his side, he almost pushes you off until his vision starts to spin. Gently helping him straighten up and walk over to the bunk, you look up at him.

“Because you won’t let people help you, but you’re surprisingly good at following orders,” you simply answer and help him down onto the bunk, your eyes softening when you watch him wince. “Seriously Bucky, get some sleep. I’ll keep on lookout and I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

Bucky reluctantly agrees and carefully lies down onto the bunk. The softness in your voice almost swept him to sleep without getting situated first, but he puts his trust in you and allows himself to fall asleep soon enough.

…

A gentle stroke over his arm makes his eyes flutter open much more peacefully than he usually wakes up and his eyes meet yours. Your voice is gentle, understanding that he came from the deepest sleep he’s had in a long time.

“We’re here. You want to come inside?” you ask him and he pushes to a sit with a deep grunt, your hands gently helping him up. That’s when Bucky notices a thick layer of multiple blankets slipping down to his hips and the chill coming in from the loading rig that’s descended onto the massive grass field the jet had landed on, the warmth from his sleep chilling his skin.

Bucky slowly assesses his surrounding and nods, “How long have I slept for?”

“The storm derailed us from the course, so you had a few extra hours. I loaded everything into the safehouse and have some food on the stove already. I’d say about eleven hours in total,” you explain as you walk off before putting your hands on your hips and staring him down. “You good to walk, soldier?”

Bucky shakes his head back to reality and nods, pushing off and following you down the rig, towards the cabin at the edge of the full forest surrounding the field.

“You stayed awake for that long?” he asked as he sauntered after you into the cabin.

“Took a short nap myself, just to be sure I could stick the landing without crashing to our deaths.” You shrug and slip your thick jacket off before making your way further into the home, walking up to the stove to check on the simmering food.

“Come here. Need to take a look at the stitches,” you bark your order and turn back to him as he walks over, a deep frown still etched into his face even after the good sleep he had.

“So bossy…” he grumbles and you roll your eyes, forcefully spinning him back around and lifting his sweater up over his shoulder where Bucky’s metal hand catches onto it so you can inspect him.

Removing the bandage, you smile when you see the insane improvement to his skin and open one of the drawers to grab a small knife to cut the stitches with. Gently cutting them and leaving just his flesh to do the rest of the healing, you’re almost sure you can see the skin mending itself.

“I think this might not even leave a scar,” you tell him proudly with a tinge of awe, and he spins around to face you.

“Good. What are we eating?” he asks and peers over the stove.

“Hot air for your rude ass.” You roll your eyes and lift the lid of the pan to stir the soup you had simmering on the stove.

In the beginning, you wouldn’t touch Bucky’s presence with a ten foot pole. The man radiated introversion and pretty much only wanted to talk to Steve. After you saw him snarl and snap at any other colleagues trying, you stayed far away from him, despite your initial intention to make him feel safe and welcome. But Steve saw your professional and withheld response to the whole Bucky situation as the perfect asset to make you both each others’ partner in missions. You wanted to complain – you really did – but you worked exceptionally well together. It turns out, when you don’t talk, you get an awful lot done.

It’s not that you don’t like Bucky, you greatly appreciate him as a colleague. But if he only likes you when you mind your own business, he would be dead. The amount of times you have saved him from himself is too many to count and you gave him a scolding twice as often. Yet all Bucky ever replies with is a huff, a roll of his eyes and turning his back on you as he saunters off to someone who won’t be on his ass all the time.

“Always so mean,” Bucky grumbles and lifts himself to sit on the kitchen counter, cleaning his hand with a cloth he found laying around.

“What can I say? Your endless optimism and happiness just brings out that side of me,” you hum sarcastically and blink harshly a few times to will away the sleep in your body, demanding for you to have a nap, making you unable to see the hint of a smile at the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

Not much later, the two of you finish your soup and you get up to clean the bowls and stuff them away, but Bucky clasps his metal fingers around your arm and stops you.

“Get some sleep. I’ll clean up,” he orders, his voice surprisingly gentle. But you frown at him and shake your head with a shrug, trying to wrench your arm loose from his grip only for it to tighten even more. “Not a request, sweetheart. Sleep, or I’ll knock you out.”

“Resorting to threats now, Barnes?”

“Don’t tempt me. You don’t know where I draw the line.” His warning and narrowed eyes soften on you and it tugs strangely at your chest. “Sleep.”

“So bossy…” Noting the seriousness in his eyes, you know not to fight him on it any longer and you put down the bowls, throwing him one last defeated scowl before making your way over to the couch and curling up on the worn cushions after putting a blanket over it.

The last thing you notice as the weight of sleep presses you into the cushions, is the gentle touch of a duvet being tucked around your snoozing frame.

…

To say it’s disorienting to wake up revitalised in the middle of the night, in a cabin you don’t know, where it’s so dark that you can’t see a hand in front of your face, is an understatement. Your heart thumps loudly in your chest, your pulse having erratically quickened from the mind-numbing sleep it was in mere seconds ago, and your fingers dig into the cushions below you to ground yourself.

Swinging your legs over the side of the couch, you hear a loud grunt and something catches onto your legs, pulling you down. In your sleepy state, you barely get to scream before you’re pinned under a super soldier that looks like he went into fighting mode with his eyes closed, your eyes finally adjusting to the darkness.

“Bucky. It’s me!” you hiss and he squints down at you, taking a second to realise before slowly letting go and flicking on the nearest light, still straddling your hips.

“What the fuck, man…” Bucky groans and rubs his eyes, his voice rough and raspy from sleep. “What are you doing?”

You peer up at him with wide eyes “I just tried getting up. I couldn’t see shit, so your stomach became the ground.”

Slowly climbing off you and resting his back against the couch, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and heaves a deep sigh.

“Well, that’s my rest gone for the rest of the night…” he grumbles with disappointment and runs a hand through his hair. You come up to a sitting position as well and make a noise in agreement.

“No. You’re going back to sleep.”

Your head snaps to him, “Excuse me?”

“Sleep.”

“What. Or you’ll knock me out?” you scoff as you rub your eyes.

“Don’t believe me?” His eyes are on you now and you tense before slowly turning to face him again.

“You are not going to knock me out!” You think. Right? “You’re not going to punch me, Barnes!”

He lets out a low laugh that skitters down your spine and your brows pull together. “I don’t have to punch you to knock you out. There are plenty of other ways.”

Your sleepy brain has a hard time catching on, before your eyes widen and you let out a noise of disgust. And your heart starts to pound harder at the wild insinuation. Why your heartbeat drops to between your legs, is something you ignore for the time being.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you scoff, if only to distract his senses from the heat radiating off your face, “you can’t fuck a woman to sleep.”

He leans in and you are on the edge of knocking him out, but his breath on your skin halts you. “You have any idea of the perks of being a super soldier?”

His voice, that deep fucking voice and the gravel in it, makes you gulp, your eyes fluttering against all your inner protests. Your fingers curl on top of your bent knees and you quickly scramble away, up to a stand. Bucky laughs up at you and shrugs, standing up himself.

But that’s it. You don’t move.

You stay quiet. Contemplating. Like only now his words sink past your skin and into your system, which heavily responds to the idea of Bucky.

Bucky fucking you. So hard and deep that you can’t help but cry out, but sob for more. You crave the satisfaction of sleep after a good, thorough pounding. And by someone who is strong and firm and has a filthy mouth. Someone you have no other attachment to. Someone you know answers perfectly to you, as proven by the many missions that showed the two of you working in such synchronised manor, it almost scared you at first.

Bucky cocks his head, “Is that what you need?”

You catapult out of your thoughts and quickly look at him again, “What?”

A smirk. “You need me to fuck you to sleep, sweetheart?”

Fuck. That is a bit direct. And if it doesn’t make you almost drool.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” you whisper breathlessly. It sounds like a plea and round eyes look at him like it is.

A plea.

But not for him to stop.

“Why?” He takes a step closer to you, his eyes darting between yours. “What does it do?”

You roll your eyes and his flesh hand raises to cup your face. His long fingers tangle into the side of your hair and his thumb tips your jaw up to tilt your head towards his gaze.

“Use your words. What does it do?” he rasps, taking another step closer until he breathes your air, leaving you with none, it seems.

“It–” you struggle to find the words. What he does to you. He makes your blood turn hot and your skin prickle with cold. He makes excitement flutter in your belly, but it might be anger – indignation at his wild behaviour towards you.

“Not so talkative now, are you?” he croons and you grit your teeth at his incessant teasing. “Or are you waiting for me to take it from you? Make you sing instead?”

Yes.

“Make you cry out for me?” he smirks. “Or maybe just make you cry? Make you beg for it – for me. You’d be such a pretty sight with tears in your eyes.”

Your head buzzes and you don’t know whether he is complimenting you or dragging you through the mud. It feels so similar and it has your heart pounding and slick coating the fabric of your panties. You try to say his name, but no sound comes out.

Bucky understands, however, the moving of your lips, and wants to bite them. Those lips. Suck on them, have them tremble.

After all that disgusting distance between the two of you from the beginning, it would be deeply satisfying for him to tear you apart like that. Have you cry out for more of him. He would take his sweet, sweet time, too. If he can control himself, that is. But he wants to take his time – mess you up real good. Have you despise that distance between you two in the future, like he has always despised that distance.

The silence between the two of you is deafening and it makes you want to squirm. Closer or far away, you don’t know.

Bucky doesn’t feel like Bucky anymore. He feels like the devil taunting you with your deepest desire. But it’s him. He’s your desire. And you can’t tell if it has always been there or if he’s manipulating you into it. He could, you know he could. But you are starting to care less, the more he looks at you. You want him, need him. Your bones are crying out for him and you want to vocalise it.

You want him to drag it out of you, those cries and that horrible, terrible need.

You imagine it. His fingers, two of them, curled inside of you. And a drag. A curl. Another drag. Tearing out your soul, one moan at a time, as he peels that pleasure to the surface.

When the quiet between you becomes unbearable, you dare to nod, give him permission. But the thought of a nod crosses your eyes and Bucky drags your mouth to his before you can give your confirmation. It is hungry, but hesitant. His soft lips and his rough fingers curling against your scalp has you whimper softly, giving him permission with your pleasure. And he unleashes himself, groaning as his other hand drags your head even closer to him.

He nips and sucks and bites at your lips, not giving you any space to venture into the kiss yourself. But you whine softly and he complies by stroking his tongue into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls your body up against his. Your knees are weak and your hands clasp desperately at his forearms to make sure you don’t float away, away from him. From his promising kiss for more.

The ache between your legs is near painful and you squirm on your shaky legs, needing relief desperately. But you don’t want his mouth to stop doing that. Stop kissing you, Abusing your mouth with his own. Desperate, claiming, slow, aggressive – selfish almost.

“Fuck me to sleep, Bucky.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

…

“Ah–” you rasp, squeezing your eyes closed as pain, whining pain, pulsates through your core and thighs. Your limbs are trembling and your bare skin is covered in sweat. Your arms are aching from the stretch above your head and the grip Bucky has on your wrists feels like a faint bruise.

But you haven’t come yet.

His deft fingers do nothing more than graze over your clit and you shudder, the touch agonising. He’s been at this for what feels like hours – rubbing, stroking, circling, taunting – and you feel like you are going insane.

His deep voice growls lowly against your ear, “You want to come.”

A small part of you wants to slap him for that obvious statement, but that part of you is so small, so faint, you barely know her anymore. No, that other remaining part of you lets out a wanton whine. Pathetic. Completely desperate for anything. Your mouth opens to plead, but nothing else comes out than ragged breaths, your sweaty chest rising and falling as that sweet relief is withheld from you.

“You see,” Bucky whispers, his muscular body only in boxers now, and another press of his finger to your clit has you writhe and forget that he was talking to you in the first place, “I agree with you that I respond better to orders. But I have found myself to be better at giving them. Orders – And orgasms for that matter.”

You groan.

“But you wouldn’t know that,” he continues, “since you haven’t come yet, have you?”

Heaving a deep breath, you don’t deign to give him an answer.

“I think I want the first time you come for me to be on my tongue– ” he muses and your eyes fly open. “It’d be a shame if you passed out after the first one though. You have to stay awake for me, okay? I’m not done with you yet… Wouldn’t that be cruel – to just be done with you now?”

That drags you out of your stupor and you give him the biggest eyes you can muster, the most pathetic plea you can will into your body, “Please!”

“So polite,” he hums and presses a gentle kiss below your ear. But he decides he wants more and drags his open mouth over the skin of your neck, his tongue lashing over the heated skin before sinking his teeth into it. You sigh softly, as it seems any of his touches are a relief to the endless deprivation of him.

His mouth encircles your breast, the warmth making goosebumps prickle at your skin as your nipples stiffen. Bucky hums against your skin, his tongue circling around the taut bud before giving a playful bite to the soft flesh. His mouth dances further down and his hand slips from your wrists, his palm stroking down your arm and chest to follow his mouth. You know better than to move, your fingers digging into the pillow below your head instead. Focusing on your breathing, you try to get through the ache between your hips, that desperate throbbing for the man descending your body.

Both his palms press against the inside of your thighs and press them apart, the stretch in your muscles making you arch your back. You dare to look down and your jaw drops at the sight of his dark, ravenous eyes on your cunt. His hands holding you open like it’s nothing, like they are pressing to the table his meal is on.

It takes ages, his examination of your pleasure, and your hole pulsates in answer to his stare. Your breathing hurts from heaving the thick air and you can’t take it anymore. One hand reaches down and combs through Bucky’s full hair, through his locks and cupping his face. His eyes dart up to yours and you hold back from frowning at the daze he sprung out of.

“Bucky…” you breathe, a soft question for him to give you what you need. What you want.

He nuzzles into your palm with a grin and locks his again darkened gaze onto yours, before leaning down so agonisingly slowly. But a firework as large as the galaxy springs apart when his warm lips wrap around your clit and you could mistake it for an orgasm, only to find out that when Bucky sucks your clit into his mouth, you know for a fact a deadly orgasm is well on its way to shred you to pieces.

He hums lovingly against you and you let out a raspy moan. Your thighs get pushed to the mattress as Bucky wetly suckles at you, your chest rising quickly now as your orgasm crawls higher and higher in your body. And just when you think you’re there, Bucky retreats and drags his tongue between your folds, lapping up your slick from the source.

A strangled whine slips from your lips and Bucky groans in agreement, “Fuck, I know. But I haven’t tasted you yet. Let me just– ”

Another drag of his tongue has your shivering and your hand curls into a tight fist with his hair between it. He hums in delight at the tug at his scalp and buries his face deeper into your cunt, breathing harshly as he struggles to combine it with eating you whole. But the sounds alone, get you closer and closer and– “Bucky!”

“Go,” he hums against you, almost hurried. “Come on my tongue.”

An order indeed.

Body curling, your orgasm barrels into you like an avalanche. Endless weight presses on your nerves and you sob and moan and cry out, twitching against Bucky as his arms slip around your thighs to hold you to his mouth. Drinking your orgasm up and grinding his own hips into the mattress, Bucky devours the feeling of having you come under him. He had been teasing himself, never mind you. He wanted it to last, wanted you more pliant and bendy before he allowed you to come.

He crawls up your body, but you barely notice it, your orgasm still haunting you, racking through your spine and turning your blood to syrup. Bucky takes advantage of your open mouth and licks into it, teasing, smiling, taunting. For you to respond to him, prove him you’re still there.

So you move, languidly dragging your mouth against his as you tangle your hand into his hair again, pulling him closer. He groans into your mouth and a feeling of triumph swells in your chest at the way Bucky’s body melts to your side. Though the deception of his surrender might have been a distraction when you suddenly feel two fingers press into you, instantly curling against a swollen wall inside of you that has you gasp against his lips.

“Oh, fuck!” you moan and Bucky chuckles deeply above you, his fingers retreating before pressing into you again. His thumb teasingly darts over your swollen clit and lightning strikes your every nerve.

“You think too lowly of yourself to think I would be done with you,” Bucky rumbles, his lips moving against the flushed skin of your cheek, your eyes having closed in overwhelming pleasure. His fingers move faster and twist into you, opening you up. Then then slow again, teasing – endlessly teasing. Then faster. Slower.

Unpredictable – and your body cannot keep up as it hauls you closer to your high before retreating like it burned itself. But to burn yourself on the devil – on Bucky. What a delight. You sigh deeply and let the bed swallow you whole as you buck up against Bucky’s hand. He presses soft kisses to your cheek, mumbling to you that you’re almost there and you have to let him make you come again.

“More,” you breathe out. “More, more, more…”

He obliges and presses into your spot so well, his thumb dragging two firm circles over your clit at the same time and you burn alive. You arch like a string pulls you to the ceiling as Bucky’s fingers fuck you through a numbing orgasm. From your crown, all the way down to your toes, fire bursts and surges and implodes. Your moans sound attractive to your own ears as you come, your voice breaking and filled with breaths, crying out to the heavens that the devil made you come again.

And the haze clears, the fog lifting as your eyes open to watch a heady Bucky lick appreciatively at his fingers, the gleam on them reflecting the minimum amount of light in the bedroom. Your hand slides from his hair to his chest and you press him to the mattress, his own eyes widening as you crawl over him.

You straddle his waist, hissing as your bare pussy settles over his angry, hard cock. The fabric is rough to your skin, but you can only focus on his face.

Bucky leans up on his forearms and raises an eyebrow at you. “I don’t think so– ”

“Oh yes. You are going to let me use you and then,” you smirk, “you can make me pass out. Since you have failed to do so thus far…”

A slow smile spreads over his face, “So bossy…”

You answer with a grin and a slow grind over his weeping cock, making him stutter under you, “Let’s see how well you follow orders now, Mr. Barnes.”