be my reason.

001.  this  is  a  casual  writing  account  ,  you  will  see  mistakes  which  i  will  gladly  correct.  please  confront  with  kindness.

002.  writer  is  above  the  age  of  twenty  one  and  only  feels  comfortable  interacting  with  readers/writers  who  are  also  over  the  age  of  twenty  one.  no  minors  ,  please.

003.  i  will  not  write  :  yandere,  r_pe,  noncon,  dubcon,  m/s  dynamics,  dd/lg,  inc_st,  p_dophilia,  or  any  “taboo”  genres.  my  work  may  contain  d/s  themes  all  of  which  are  implied  to  be  consensual.  furthermore  i  will  not  write  for  minor  characters  or  age  them  up  for  smut.  go  away.

004.  character  x  y/n  only.  mostly  woman  reader  but  will  write  for  nb  reader  if  requested  .  .  .  currently  not  writing  for  man  reader  (  not  good  at  it  :/  )

005.  do  not  repost,  republish,  or  screenshot  my  work.  you  may  like  and  reblog.

006.  only  request  when  requests  are  open  ,  and  for  characters  from  the  fandoms  below.

MASTERLIST LAST UPDATED, NOV 18TH 2024 @ 4:07 PM PST

[ ★ 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 … RED DEAD REDEMPTION! ]

CHARACTER: ARTHUR MORGAN TYPE: MULTIPLE PARTS.

HONOR AMONG THIEVES. ( ONGOING, HIATUS ) CHAPTERS: one | two | three

CHARACTER: ARTHUR MORGAN TYPE: DRABBLES/ONE SHOTS.

DISTRACTED.

HOLDFAST.

PAY IT FORWARD.

PRETTY RIBBONS.

[ ★ 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 … SILENT HILL TWO! ]

CHARACTER: JAMES SUNDERLAND. TYPE: MULTIPLE PARTS.

LONG TO BE ( ONGOING, WIP ) CHAPTERS: one | two | epilogue

CHARACTER: JAMES SUNDERLAND. TYPE: DRABBLES/ONE SHOTS.

A GOOD SHOW.

ANTICIPATION.

BEHAVE.

IT CAN'T WAIT.

MORE THAN GOOD.

PERFECTLY IN SYNC.

SUNRISE.

TAKING CARE OF IT.

[ ★ 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 … RESIDENT EVIL! ]

CHARACTER: ALBERT WESKER. TYPE: MULTIPLE PARTS.

OFFICE DIARIES ( ONGOING, WIP ) CHAPTERS: one | two |

CHARACTER: ALBERT WESKER. TYPE: DRABBLES/ONE SHOTS.

CHECKING IN.

The words were soft, like a whisper from another world, but they hit with brutal force, each syllable closing in around you like a vice. His words crashed against you, and in the hollow silence that followed, all you could hear was David’s voice echoing in your mind. How many times had he warned you, tried to push you away, his face grim and serious, telling you that loving him would come with risks you couldn’t yet fathom? You’d heard him, but you’d never truly listened. You’d been so sure that this wasn’t something you’d ever have to face—that the risk was part of who he was, not of who you were. He had been so insistent, as though trying to prepare you, in his own way, for the life that followed in his shadow.

You thought you could bear the long silences, the days and nights spent wondering where he was and whether he’d make it back to you in one piece. You thought the sacrifices were worth it, believing love could shield you from the reality of his work. But standing here now, with the weight of those words still settling over you, you finally understood the depth of the danger you’d dismissed, the gravity he’d tried so hard to make you see.

The world outside dulled into a low hum, and inside, the air thickened, pressing in from all sides. Your knees trembled as the walls seemed to close in around you. But before you could collapse, the man’s hands reached out to steady you, grounding you just enough to keep you on your feet.

"He was a hero."

Of course he was.

Time moved on around you, indifferent to the hollow ache in your chest. The seasons changed, the leaves turning, falling, and growing back again, but you hadn’t let him go. His side of the bed was always untouched, pillows fluffed and blankets smoothed, as though he’d walk in any moment, casting off his jacket and boots, filling the space with his warmth.

His clothes remained in the closet, his razor and toothbrush undisturbed in the bathroom. To you, it felt as if the world might have forgotten him, but you couldn’t, and even though your mother insisted it was time, you couldn’t bring yourself to remove your ring. To you, he was still yours, no matter what anyone else believed.

Eventually, at your mother’s urging and your friends’ encouragement, you tried to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t easy, but little by little, you let yourself imagine a future—one that didn’t hurt as much as the memories you held onto.

Tonight, after months of emptiness, you had finally agreed to a date. He was nice, polite, everything you might’ve wanted if you’d met him in another life, under different circumstances. And even though you’d forced yourself to smile and engage, trying to find a spark of something, your heart was still somewhere else, tangled up with someone who wasn’t coming back.

As he walked you to your porch, your date paused, his gaze lingering a bit too long, that expectant look in his eyes clear as he offered to stay the night. You hesitated, your hand on the doorknob, and smiled apologetically, murmuring a gentle, “Not tonight.” You leaned in to kiss him softly, hoping he’d take it for what it was—a polite goodnight and nothing more. He accepted it, albeit with a disappointed smile, and waved as he headed back down the steps.

Part of you wished he didn't. You couldn't help but to feel guilty, but it'd been so long since you felt the touch of another man. The sensation of feeling ravished, relentlessly. "I'm acting like a bitch in a heat." You muttered to yourself as you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The familiar quiet settling around you, a calm you hadn’t been able to recreate with anyone else. But then you froze, feeling a presence in the room.

There, sitting at the edge of the couch, looking like he’d just walked out of one of your dreams—or nightmares—was David. He watched you, a small, almost sheepish smile playing on his lips, and your heart slammed into your ribs. He looked tired, his clothes worn, his hair a bit longer than usual. And he was unmistakably, undeniably alive.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression hovering somewhere between amused and wounded. “So… nice date?”

As you stared, struggling to process the sight of him sitting there like a ghost brought to life, David’s hand shifted, revealing something small and gleaming between his fingers. Your engagement ring. The one you’d left tucked in a drawer after trying to let him go. He turned it idly in his hand, the light catching on the band as he ran his thumb over the smooth metal, almost absently. It was like he was testing the weight of it, feeling its significance without quite understanding it.

It was odd seeing David have such an attachment to it. He never wore his own, swore it was for your safety. Nobody could know that The Solid Snake had a tether to the earth, they'd kill you for it. It never bothered you much, especially after his assumed death you dramatically convinced yourself that, perhaps, your own death would've been kinder.

He shrugged, a small, almost cocky smile playing on his lips, and he held the ring up with a casual flick. “Didn’t expect to see you… moving on so fast.” He tried for humor, his tone light, almost teasing. “Guess I can’t blame you for needing a warm body around. You must’ve missed me.”

Seeing him holding that ring, the very symbol of the life and love you’d mourned, felt like a slap in itself. You took a shaky breath, heart pounding as the reality of it—the casualness, the nerve—sank in. Your shock turned to anger, and you clenched your fists at your sides.

Noticing your demeanor, David stepped closer. He reached out his hand and the anger that had been simmering finally erupted. Before he could touch you, your hand shot out, slapping him hard across the face. The sound echoed through the room, the sharpness of it as raw as the pain he’d left you with. His head snapped to the side, and he froze, his cheek reddening where you’d struck him.

You took a shaky breath, every part of you shaking with the tension you’d held back for so long. “Do you think this is a fucking joke?”

His smile faltered, his expression shifting as he took in the fury in your eyes. “I… Look, it was part of the mission,” he said, a hint of guilt creeping into his tone. “I thought it’d be easier if—”

“If you let me think you were dead?” you cut him off, voice rising. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? What it’s like to believe I lost you for good?”

David’s face fell, the weight of your words finally settling in. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought you’d… be okay.”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes as everything poured out. “Do you know what it’s been like, David? Trying to live without you? I thought I’d lost you forever. I went on a date tonight because I thought I had to let you go!” Your voice cracked. “And now you’re just… sitting here, like it’s nothing?”

For a moment, he was silent, his expression growing somber. Then, quietly, he reached out a hand to you, regret darkening his gaze. “I didn’t understand how much it would hurt you, baby. I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you,” you whispered, barely holding yourself together. “You left me to grieve you. To go through all of that alone. And now you’re just here, acting like it’s no big deal?”

David lowered his head, his voice barely audible. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, but… I see now how wrong I was.”

The anger ebbed, replaced by the pain of everything you’d carried alone, and you couldn’t stop yourself from stepping closer, needing to feel him, to know he was real. His hand reached up to cradle your cheek, and he pulled you into his arms, his voice thick with regret as he murmured, “I’m here now. For good. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

You wanted to stay mad, to push him away—but you couldn’t. His arms around you, his warmth and heartbeat steady against yours, brought a sense of calm you hadn’t felt in so long. For now, you let yourself sink into him, allowing the anger and grief to fade, if only for a moment.

You're such a fool for him.

David kissed the corner of your lip. His hands find their place on your hips. His warmth envelops you, steady and familiar, as if he could melt all the time and distance that had separated you.

His lips capture yours completely, a slow, lingering kiss that feels like a claim, pulling you deeper into the moment, grounding you in his touch.

He pulls back just enough to brush his nose against yours, a faint, teasing smile curving his lips. “You had wine?”

You shiver, his breath warm against your cheek, the scent of him intoxicating. “A little,” you admit, barely a whisper.

“Expensive?” he murmurs, his fingers tracing a gentle line along your jaw, sparking tingles that send a thrill through you.

You nod, biting your lip. “Yeah. He went all out for me.”

David lets out a low, amused chuckle, his hand slipping to the small of your back, pulling you closer. “God… and you didn’t even put out?”

You can feel his heart beating against yours, the intensity in his gaze holding you captive. “Because,” you say softly, voice catching as you press your forehead to his, “I missed you.”

“Tell me what you missed most,” he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing drawl as his fingers brush along your waist, his touch both familiar and electrifying.

You open your mouth to answer, the words on the tip of your tongue. “Your coc—” But you catch yourself, cheeks warming as you meet his gaze.

A flicker of amusement dances in his eyes as he leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Go on…”

You let out a frustrated sigh, trying to steady yourself, to hold onto even a sliver of your anger. “I’m supposed to be mad at you, asshole.”

David chuckles, his thumb grazing your cheek. “I know,” he whispers, his voice soft but unrepentant. “But tell me anyway.”

His lips press against yours once more, filled with urgency and longing. David's strong arms lift you effortlessly and your fingers instinctively wrap around his neck, seeking comfort and security. It feels like a fairy tale as he leads you to the bedroom that was once shared between you both.

With care, he sets you down on the soft mattress, and your hands trace the contours of his back, cherishing every touch as if trying to imprint it in your memory. You have to remind yourself that this is real, that he is here with you now. The scent of his cologne fills the room and adds to the atmosphere of passion and longing, it’d been too long.

His lips press hard against your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses that ignite your skin. You can feel the familiar heat radiating off of him and it's almost impossible to resist. "Tell me what you missed," he demands again, his voice dripping with eagerness. He needs to hear it, to know that he still has this hold on you.

You furrow your brows, trying to maintain some semblance of anger as his hands roam freely over your body, disregarding any barriers. But when he whispers in your ear, all thoughts of resistance disappear.

"I missed your cock," you confess brazenly, feeling a rush of arousal at the thought of him buried inside you.

David responds by thrusting his hips against your clothed slit, causing you both to moan in unison. He leans back slightly and groans into your mouth, unable to contain his pleasure at hearing your admission. You reach for his hand and bring it to your face, hungrily licking and nipping at his fingers before taking them into your mouth.

"Did you miss me?" you ask seductively, locking eyes with him. "Did you spend countless nights jerking off thinking of me?" With a devilish grin, you dart your tongue out and trace it along his palm and between his fingers before sucking two of them into your mouth. A fire ignited in you both, parting for air you taunted, “David, you came in this hand didn’t you?” Your saliva is coated between his fingers, “and you wished it was inside my cunt.”

You glare up at him, daring him to say something, to try to justify what he’s put you through. He’d never seen you so forward, he found enjoyment in being the dominant one. His libido getting the better of him, he blamed it on being a man. David doesn’t speak. Instead, he leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a rough, demanding kiss.

"What about you?" He growls, his grip tightening on your hips as he thrusts into you relentlessly.

"Did you finger fuck yourself?" He sneers, each thrust hitting deeper and harder. "With the showerhead? Or did you buy a fake cock to fuck?"

His hands wrap around your throat, choking off your breath. "Why didn't you fuck him?" He demands, his voice dripping with jealousy and possessiveness.

"Your date, or anyone else. Did you know deep down that no one else could stretch your cunt like I can?" His words are filled with rage mixed with betrayal, fueling his rough movements as he claims you.

You can’t let him make you come like this. Clothed, like a bitch in a fucking heat. The second you feel his body shudder above yours, you take advantage of his weakened state. With all your might, you push forward to sit upright. The shift in position, the sudden display of power causes David's eyes to widen.

"On your back, Snake." It isn't a request, it's a demand. And like the loyal dog he is, he quietly obeyed.

Straddling his hips, David's erection is pressed firmly against your core. The dry humping session leaving both of you soaked. You're fine like this. It isn't ideal but, you can easily come with the sensation of his cock against your clit and then leave them him there to fend for himself. But for David? He bit his lip to stifle a whimper. He desperately craved for his release.

"How dare you?" You ask, voice still frayed with anger. With an open palm, you slap him again. A silence washed over you both, David grasped your wrist and kisses the same palm you slapped him with. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into your hand.

Snatching your hand back, you dismount from his lap to kneel on the bed. Unhooking the straps of your dress revealing your bra, you taunt him. “Maybe I should just leave you here and head out for a real man.” You could feel his cock twitch. The clasp of your bra is now undone and you present him your hardened buds. “For a man who won’t lie to me.”

“No! Baby please.” David begged, “I’m sorry—” he repeated. He straightened his posture, sitting up right to face you. Defeated and pathetically aroused, he exhaled another apology. "Let me make it up to you." His voice was desperate, his cock harder than ever. "I can't take it anymore." He pleaded, gripping his dick in a show of desperation. "I need you so fucking bad."

Impulsively, you press your lips to his in a heated kiss. "Don't make love to me," you command breathlessly, "fuck me." You kiss him again, this time softer, before lifting your dress over your head and tossing it aside without a care. David follows suit, undressing himself in a swift motion. The two of you are naked before each other, locking eyes with an intense flame burning between you. Gathering your courage, you confess to him, "I want you to fuck me, hard.

David lies back on the bed, pulling you on top of him. "Then be a good girl and come get it," he growls in response.

His cock is rigid against your stomach and you run your hands up his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his skin. David teases your slick opening with the tip of his cock before sliding into you with a powerful thrust. The sensation of his coarse pubic hair brushing against your sensitive skin sends shivers down your spine and elicits a gasp from your lips. David grunts in response, the sound sending waves of desire through you.

Starting off slow, David stretches your tightness as he moves in and out of you. With each thrust, he slaps your ass hard, leaving red handprints behind. The combination of pleasure and pain has you whimpering and gasping for more. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you bite down on your lip to stifle your screams as ecstasy courses through every inch of your body.

"Fuck...you feel so good," David groans, his voice raw with desire. "Tell me how badly you need this dick." His dirty talk only fuels the flames of passion within you and you throw your head back. Mouth agape, you’re moaning loudly as he reaches between your bodies to rub circles on your throbbing clit.

"Please...I need it so bad," you whimper, unable to hold back your desperate need for him. Your body trembles and pulses around him as he continues to thrust into you with a fierce hunger, filling you up and satisfying your every wish.

His eyes spark with a mischievous gleam, "Say my name," he commands.

Feeling shy, you look at him and stutter, "David?"

He clicks his tongue in disapproval.

Suddenly, it hits you. "Snake," you moan in ecstasy.

Gripping your hips, David flips you over onto your stomach without taking his cock out. Your cries of surprise turn into moans of ecstasy as he slams himself back inside you without warning. Grabbing your hips roughly, he angled your body to hit that sweet spot deep within you, making you see stars. His grip on your hips bruises your skin but all you can focus on is the way he pounds into you like a man possessed by a primal need only you can fulfill.

"Is this how you want it?" he growls in your ear as he grinds his hips against yours with a feral intensity. Each impact makes the bed frame creak with your passionate movements, banging against the headboard.

"Yes! More Snake...harder!" You beg for more, arching your back to meet his powerful thrusts. David's balls slapped against your ass cheeks with each brutal thrust, and before long, his heavy breathing and the wet slap of your bodies colliding are the only sounds filling the room.

David's grip on your hips tightens even more, fingers digging into your skin as he fucks you harder and faster, pushing you to the edge of the abyss. Your face is buried in the sheets, gripping on them for dear life. Wet walls squelch and clench around him, words are incomprehensible. “S-Snake, fu-fuck!” It’s caught in your throat, until you release. Your orgasm coming at you fast, hard and unforgiving. “Oh my f-fucking god. Yes!”

"I...I'm... oh God," David pants, his face contorted with pleasure and pain. "I'm going to—" but before he could finish his sentence, his hot, sticky cum spurts inside you, covering both of you in a sticky sheen. He exhales sharply, collapsing back onto the bed spent.

You both lay there panting heavily, trying to catch your breaths as the heat between you cooled. David caresses your cheek lovingly as he whispers apologies in your ear. "I'm sorry for keeping secrets from you... I won't ever do it again... I promise."

The weight of David’s words hung in the air. You turned to face him, chest rising and falling rhythmically as you met his gaze. The hazel of his eyes softened, revealing a rare sliver of vulnerability. His hand, warm and tender against your skin, gently brushes away a stray lock of hair from your forehead. You shifted closer to him, curling into his side and burying your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent mingled with sweat and sweat-soaked sheets.

“Sorry, hun,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.

“’S’fine,” James responds, his voice a low, drowsy rumble. “I needed to get up early anyway to drop Laura off at school.”

You let out a soft laugh, barely more than a whisper, “Like, six a.m. early?”

A quiet groan rumbles from his chest as he pulls you just a little closer, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your side. “Maybe not,” he admits, voice softened by sleep, as if savoring this rare moment.

James nestled his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. These moments, so rare and precious, were hard to come by with a child running through the house, always lurking around, popping up at the most inconvenient times.

A little nuisance, sure—but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. In this quiet sliver of dawn, with only the sound of his breathing and the faint hum of morning outside, you tasted a fleeting slice of domesticity.

His lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck. You tilt your hed to the side, giving him better access, James takes full advantage. He peppers your skin with soft kisses, leaving you breathless. The friction of his stubble against your skin is a delicious mix of roughness and tenderness, making you arch into him.

"James," you breathe, your hands instinctively reaching back to grip his forearm. The heat between you is palpable, a silent promise of the passion that always seems to simmer just beneath the surface.

He nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck, his breath warm and steady. "Do you have to get up?" he asks, his voice husky with desire.

You shake your head, even though he can't see it, lost in the sensation of his lips moving lower, tracing a path down your shoulder.

"No," you reply, your own voice catching in your throat. "Not yet."

His hand moves higher, cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your nightgown. The simple touch sends a wave of pleasure through you, making your nipples pebble instantly. He teases one with his thumb, the friction electric against your sensitized flesh.

"Mmm," you moan softly, turning your head to capture his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, a green blaze that promises so much more than this fleeting moment. It's a look that speaks volumes, one that says he wants you as desperately as you want him.

James leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. The connection is immediate and powerful, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to tangle with yours in a dance as old as time. Your bodies mold together, fitting perfectly as if made for each other. His free hand slides down to cup your ass, pulling you even closer, the evidence of his desire pressing insistently against your thigh.

You break the kiss, gasping for breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "James," you whisper again, this time with a hint of urgency. "We shouldn't..."

He silences you with another kiss, this one softer, almost reverent. "Shh," he murmurs against your lips. "We just have to be quiet," he says with a hint of playfulness.

Encouraged, you scoot closer, your body pressing against him. Your breath hitches as your thigh brushes against his hardening length.

"James," you whisper, voice barely audible.

He just looks at you, his lips parted as if he’s about to say something. But then his gaze drops to your lips, and the intensity in his eyes makes your heart race.

"Please," you whisper, almost begging now. "Take me."

His breath catches, and you feel his entire body tense up for a moment before he exhales slowly. His hand moves from your cheek to your hair, tangling in the strands as he pulls you closer. He kisses you then, a soft, lingering kiss that speaks volumes without words.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with need. "Are you sure?" he asks, voice low and rough.

You nod again, your fingers gripping his arm tightly. He shifts slightly, turning so that he’s half on his side, facing you. The straps of your nightgown have come undone. James' slips his hand down to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your already hard nipple. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you let out a small gasp.

"Quiet," he reminds you, but there’s no reprimand in his tone. Only concern and affection.

You bite your lip, nodding once more. He leans in, capturing your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently. The pressure builds, and you feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

Your hand travels down to his erection, wrapping your fingers around him. He’s hot and hard in your hand, and you squeeze gently, eliciting a low groan from him.

"God, you’re so beautiful," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "So perfect."

Your heart swells at his praise, and you move your hand, stroking him with slow, deliberate movements. He closes his eyes, his head falling back as he revels in the sensation. But you want more, need more. You guide his hand down to your entrance, where your arousal is already slick and ready.

He hesitates for a moment, looking into your eyes as if seeking reassurance. You give him a small, encouraging smile, and he dips one finger inside you. The sensation is intense, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan. He curves his finger, finding that sweet spot inside you, and you feel your body clenching around him.

"Fuck, you’re so wet," he mutters, his voice strained. "So wet for me."

You nod, unable to form words, your focus entirely on the way his finger feels moving inside you. He adds a second finger, spreading you open, stretching you. The pressure builds, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release.

"James," you gasp, your hips bucking against his fingers. "I want more."

He removes his fingers, only to replace them with his cock. He pushes inside you slowly, inch by agonizing inch. The stretch is delicious, overwhelming, and you grip the sheets beneath you, trying to stay quiet. He pauses when he’s fully sheathed inside you, his eyes locked on yours.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice firm but gentle. "Don’t look away."

You obey, your eyes locked onto his as he positions himself above you. The thin veil of sheets that once shielded you both falls away, exposing your bodies to the powerful heat emanating from James.

As he traps you between his arms, your legs instinctively part wider for him, begging for more. With a smirk, James teases your slick entrance with the head of his throbbing cock, relishing in the sight of your wetness mingling with his own precum. "Beautiful," he whispers lowly before plunging into you once again, claiming you entirely.

James starts to move, thrusting slowly and deliberately. Each stroke of his cock fills you completely, the sensation building and building until it’s almost too much to bear. He watches you intently, his expression a mix of love and raw desire.

"That’s it," he murmurs. "Feel it, baby. Feel how good this is. How good we are together."

His words push you closer to the edge, and you feel the orgasm coiling deep inside you. Your breath comes in short, shallow gasps, and you’re trembling all over. He speeds up, his thrusts becoming more urgent, deeper. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he fucks you.

"Yes, yes," you whisper, your voice breaking. "Oh God, James, I’m going to come."

"Let go," he urges. "Come for me. Let me see you fall apart."

The command pushes you over the edge, and you cry out softly as the orgasm rips through you. Your body spasms, squeezing him tightly as you ride out the wave of pleasure. He continues to thrust into you, chasing his own release, his breathing ragged.

"I’m close," he grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic. "So close."

You reach between you, wrapping your hand around his cock where it meets your entrance, pumping him in time with his thrusts. The added friction sends him spiraling over the edge, and he groans your name as he comes, his seed filling you.

He collapses onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. For a moment, neither of you moves, lost in the afterglow of your combined climaxes. Finally, he lifts himself off you slightly, his eyes still locked on yours.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

You nod, smiling up at him. "Mhmn, thank you baby."

He leans down, kissing you softly, his tongue flicking against yours. The kiss is tender, almost reverent, and it leaves you breathless. As he pulls back, he gives you one last, lingering look before rolling off you and pulling you into his arms.

"Sleep now," he whispers, planting a kiss on your forehead. "We’ll talk later."

You snuggle into his embrace, feeling safe and cherished. The dawn light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room.

Then you hear it, right outside the hall. "Hey! Where's breakfast?"

It's Laura, you turn to him and chuckle. James sighs, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he mutters, “Guess our peace and quiet's up.”

You chuckle, whispering back, “Think we can get away with pretending we’re still asleep?”

He gives a low, tired laugh, “Tempting. But knowing her, she’ll barge right in.”

Right on cue, Laura’s voice rings louder, impatience growing. “Hellooo? I’m starving in here!”

James groans playfully, rolling his eyes. “Alright, alright! We’re coming!”

But you had needs, desires that sometimes grew louder than his rules. And tonight felt especially cruel. He was home, tucked away in his office locked in his endless work. The sound of his voice, low and gravelly, filtered through the heavy door. It was a welcome intrusion, a reminder that he was home, but it also served as a harsh reminder of just how unreachable he was. Doctor Albert Wesker. Your boss, your lover, was locked away in his work, buried under a mountain of papers and calls, and you were left to fend for yourself once more.

You sighed, the sound barely audible, and turned your gaze to the robe draped over your bed. It was soft, luxurious, the kind of thing you’d never have bought for yourself, but Wesker had insisted on it.

“To keep you warm,” he’d said, though the gesture had been more about control than comfort. Still, it had its uses.

With a determined set of your jaw, you slipped the robe on, feeling the fabric brush against your skin. Beneath it, you wore the costume you’d ordered on a whim—a playful nod to the “naughty nurse” stereotype, complete with a little cap and the faintest hint of lace. It had been a gamble, but one you were willing to take. Tonight, you needed him to notice you, even if it meant forfeiting your pride.

Gathering your courage, you padded toward his office, the heels of your shoes tapping softly against the polished wood floor. The closer you got, the louder his voice became, a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You paused outside the door, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

This was it. There was no turning back now.

Taking a few quiet steps forward, your heart pounds in your chest. Wesker's head snapped up at the sound, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you. For a brief moment, there was confusion in his gaze, as if he couldn't quite place why you were here interrupting his work.

But it'd been so long, the look on your face hinted at your frustrations. He was a smart man, the recognition dawned, and his lips curled into a faint, imperceptible smile.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his tone cool and detached, as if you were nothing more than an interruption.

“I think so,” you replied, your voice low and sultry. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been working so hard lately. I wanted to check in.”

Wesker’s eyes flicked to the sash of your robe, which you’d begun to toy with absentmindedly. The material had already started to slip open, revealing a glimpse of the risqué outfit beneath. His gaze lingered there for a moment before returning to your face, a calculating gleam in his eye.

“Is that so?”

You nodded, letting the robe fall open just a bit more, enough for him to see the high hemline of the skirt, the curve of your leg. With each step closer, you felt more confident, more in control. This was what you wanted—no, it's what you needed. To be seen, to be noticed, to be desired.

“Poor thing,” you murmured, your voice dripping with sympathy as you placed one hand on the back of his chair. “You look so tense, Doctor. I think you need someone to take care of you.”

Wesker’s hand paused mid-note, the pen hovering above the paper. He studied you for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he laid the pen down and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Alright,” he said, his voice smooth and sardonic.

“Show me what you can do.”

A thrill shot through you at his words, at the way he’d accepted your game so easily. Without another word, you slipped fully into character, fingers grazing his shoulders as you began your “treatment.”

“First, let’s get you relaxed,” you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. You began to knead his shoulders, pressing into the muscles with just the right amount of pressure. Wesker sighed, the sound almost content, and closed his eyes, surrendering himself to your ministrations.

You worked your way down his back, your hands moving with purpose, squeezing and releasing the tension in his muscles. What a difficult man he was, keeping his composure. But the way his brows furrowed, his breath hitched. It fueled your determination, making you want to push him further. To see how far you could go before he cried out a moan.

“How does that feel, Doctor?” you asked, your voice sweet and innocent, a stark contrast to the heat building between you.

“Fine,” he rumbled, his voice thick. “I think you can do better.”

You grinned, a spark lighting up your eyes. “Oh, I intend to,” you replied, leaning in closer until your lips brushed against his ear. “But first, I need you to do something for me.”

Wesker’s eyes snapped open, his gaze locking onto yours. “What’s that?”

“Unbutton your shirt,” you commanded, your voice firm but gentle.

“I need to get to the source of the problem.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his eyes searching yours as if trying to gauge your intentions. But then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he reached for the buttons of his shirt and began to undo the first three of them.

You watched in rapt fascination as the fabric parted, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, the ridges of muscle flexing with each movement.

When he was done he leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “Happy?” he asked, his tone mocking.

“Very,” you purred, your hands moving underneath the fabric to rest on his bare shoulders. “Now, let’s see what we can do about those knots.”

You began to massage his chest, your fingers digging into the hard planes of muscle, seeking out the tension that lurked beneath the surface. Wesker groaned, the sound deep and guttural, and pressed himself into your touch, offering himself up to your service.

He muttered your name, voice strained. “You know just how to…”

His words trailed off as you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. “How to what, Doctor?” you whispered, your breath fanning out against his skin.

Wesker shuddered, his hands gripping the arms of the chair as if trying to ground himself. “Distract me,” he growled, his voice rough.

“Good,” you murmured, nipping at his earlobe before pulling back to meet his gaze. “I think that's just what you need.”

Finally, you removed your robe revealing the naughty nurse costume in all its glory.

Wesker’s gaze lingered on your outfit, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes flicked over the lace details and playful cap. Though he didn’t break his cool exterior, you caught a glint of amusement in his eyes—a hint that he found your little act amusing, though he’d never admit it outright.

“Quite the unique uniform,” he drawled, his tone laced with that familiar edge of sarcasm. “Did you really think a costume like this would work on me?”

His eyebrow arched, and though his words were teasing, his eyes betrayed a flicker of interest, lingering just a bit too long on the curves revealed by the costume. He was giving you just enough of his attention to keep you guessing, that subtle taunt characteristic of the ever-cool Albert Wesker.

You met his gaze, undeterred. "Considering you’re still sitting there letting me 'work,' Doctor, I’d say it’s working," you shot back with a sly smile.

His smirk widened, the faintest hint of warmth entering his steely demeanor. “Is that so?” His hand moved from the chair to rest lightly at your hip, pulling you slightly closer as he leaned back, maintaining his air of authority even as he allowed himself to indulge.

“I suppose I’ll let you finish… but be warned,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “I don’t often tolerate interruptions.”

A subtle thrill coursed through you, a mix of anticipation and defiance at being so close to him after all this time. You held your ground, leaning closer still.

“Then I’ll make it worth the risk.”

Wesker’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of challenge and fascination. He didn’t speak further, simply allowing his gaze to travel over you in silent approval, that slight smirk never leaving his lips as he let you continue, fully aware of the effect he had on you, and savoring it.

With a confident stride, you led Wesker to the plush leather couch that sat against one wall of his large office. It was a stark contrast to the rigid orderliness of the rest of the room, a place where he could unwind if he ever allowed himself to. Tonight, however, it would serve a far more pleasurable purpose.

Wesker followed you with measured steps, his eyes refusing to leave your form as you walked ahead of him. The playful sway of your hips in the tight nurse outfit seemed to draw his gaze like a magnet. When you reached the couch, you turned to face him, a impish glint in your eyes.

"Sit," you commanded softly, pointing at the couch with your index finger.

He complied without hesitation, sinking into the cushions with an almost regal grace. His shirt, though slightly unbuttoned, clung to his broad shoulders. The fabric taut over muscles that spoke of relentless physical discipline. Kneeling before him, your hands gently brush against the sides of his thighs as you positioned yourself comfortable on your knees.

Your fingers traced lazy circles around the hem of his shirt, teasing him with anticipation. Wesker stared at you, completely transfixed. His hand resting casually on the armrests, you could see the tension coiling beneath his calm exterior.

"You seem wound up, Doctor," you purred, a hint of amusement coloring your voice. "Let's see if I can help you relax."

With deliberate slowness, you began to unbutton his shirt, peeling back the layers of fabric to reveal the chiseled expanse of his chest. Each button undone excited you, the sight of his bare skin sending a jolt of desire through you. His chest rose and fell steadily under your scrutiny, a testament to his self-control.

Once his shirt was open, you let your hands roam freely over his torso. Your fingertips danced across his pecs, tracing the ridges of muscle with reverent precision. The warmth of his skin was a stark contrast to the cool air of the room, and you reveled in the sensation of touching him so intimately.

A low growl rumbled in Wesker’s throat as your hands continued their exploration. His eyes were half-lidded, locked onto yours with a mixture of anticipation and challenge.

"Is this all you've got?" he murmured, his voice husky with restrained need.

You chuckled softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his sternum. "There's plenty more where that came from," you assured him, punctuating your words with another kiss just below his collarbone.

His breathing grew heavier as you shifted your attention lower, your hands slipping beneath his belt to find the growing bulge in his pants. Wesker’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his head tilting back slightly as he surrendered to the sensations you were provoking.

You undid his belt with practiced ease, popping the button on his pants and pulling down the zipper. The sound echoed in the quiet room, a sharp contrast to the slow, deliberate pace of your movements. With gentle pressure, you coaxed his erection free from the confines of his boxers, releasing it into the cool air.

The sight of his hardened length made your pulse quicken, a flush of heat spreading through your body. You wrapped one hand around his shaft, feeling the smooth skin and the subtle veins pulsing beneath your touch. Wesker inhaled sharply, his eyes snapping open to meet yours once more.

"Naughty nurse, huh?" he teased, his tone dripping with dark amusement. "I didn't realize they provided this kind of treatment."

You grinned up at him, feeling a surge of confidence. "Only the best for my favorite patient," you replied, giving his cock a slow, deliberate stroke.

His breath hitched at your touch, the tension in his body ratcheting up even further. You took your time, exploring every inch of him with your hands, your mouth hovering just inches away from the tip as you breathed hot air over his sensitive skin. The contrast between the warmth of your breath and the coolness of the room heightened the sensations, driving him wild with anticipation.

Wesker narrowed his eyes, he tilts his head slightly, as if challenging you. "Is this really what you think I need?" he queries, his voice low and laced with playful authority.

"Trust me," you reply, meeting his gaze with confidence. "This is exactly what you need."

When you judged him sufficiently aroused, you leaned in and enveloped the head of his cock with your lips. The taste of him—salty, masculine—filled your mouth, igniting a fire in your core. You swirled your tongue around the crown, relishing the way his muscles tensed beneath you as you took him deeper.

Wesker groaned, his hands gripping the edge of the couch tightly. His cock pulsed in your mouth, the rhythmic throb matching the beat of your own heart. You teased him mercilessly, sucking and licking with a teasing rhythm that kept him perpetually on the edge.

As you pleasured him, you couldn't help but marvel at how utterly captivating this man was. Even in this vulnerable position, he radiated an undeniable aura of command, as if he were simply indulging in a momentary lapse of control. It only fueled your desire to push him further, to watch him unravel completely under your ministrations.

Your lips leave his cock with a loud pop, and you greedily stick your tongue out to slap against the thick girth before you. “Good boy,” you praise, watching as Wesker's eyes darken with need. You can almost hear him whimper as you unbutton your costume just enough to reveal your heaving breasts.

With a devilish grin, you guide his throbbing length between the soft mounds of flesh, feeling his pre-cum leave a slick trail in its wake. As he thrusts into the warm embrace of your breasts, you squeeze them tightly around him, a thin strand of saliva escaping your pursed lips to lubricate his pulsing shaft. Unable to resist any longer, Wesker drives his hips forward, plunging deeper into your cleavage. “That's it,” you encourage, reveling in his submission. “Such a good boy for me.”

Tongue flicking against the sensitive tip of his throbbing cock, you can feel him losing control. His body tenses with every thrust into your cleavage and his breathing becomes ragged. You can sense the desire burning inside him, even as he tries to maintain his cool facade.

But you know better. You know that Wesker needs this just as much as you do. As you release your grip on your breasts, his thrusts come to a sudden end. A desperate groan escapes his lips as he realizes that his release has been denied.

"Do you want to fuck me, Doctor?" Your voice is dripping with seduction, taunting him until he can't take it anymore.

He looks at you with defeated hunger in his eyes before swallowing hard and answering, "Yes." The hunger in his voice matches the fire in his eyes as he moves closer, ready to claim what he desires most.

With that one word, the air thickened with an intoxicating mixture of dominance and longing. Wesker’s hand gripped your chin, his thumb wipes the salvia staining it, before he tilts your gaze up. You meet his smoldering gaze as he pulls you closer, the tension crackling between your bodies like electricity. You invite him into your space with an enticing arch, “Then take what you want,” you coax softly, your voice a sultry whisper.

Wesker's composure breaks like glass under pressure; he surges forward, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you closer. The heat radiates off him, intensifying the unusual power dynamic in the air. His lips crash against yours—demanding, possessive—as if attempting to stake his claim not just on your body but your very essence.

"Let me show you how it's done," he rasped, the command laced with urgency.

You felt a thrill shoot through you at his words—his danger, his power, amplifying every pulse of desire within you. With a swift motion, he guided you onto the couch, his body hovering over yours like a storm cloud ready to unleash its fury. The gleam in his eyes promised something far more than indulgence; it was a challenge. Wesker’s composure breaks like glass under pressure; he surges forward, his hands gripping your waist to pin you in place. The heat radiates off him, his lips crash against yours—demanding, possessive—as if attempting to stake his claim not just on your body but your very essence.

As the kiss deepens, you can taste the faintest hint of desperation mingling with his usual resolve. Your fingers dig into his hair, urging him on as his hands explore your form with fervent determination. Wesker’s grip is unyielding as he holds you close, an unsatiated hunger driving him to devour every inch of your mouth, the taste of passion strong enough to drown in.

Wesker's hands slid down your sides, rough yet gentle, as he pushed your costume up and out of the way. Your skin tingled where he touched you, the heat radiating from him almost overwhelming. He leaned closer, letting his lips brush against your ear as he whispered darkly,

“You’re going to scream my name tonight.”

This is what you wanted—his surrender wrapped in a shroud of lust—and there’s a wild thrill at having brought a man of such power to this moment of bare vulnerability. Breaking the kiss, you look into his eyes—intense pools swirling with desire and something deeper.

“I thought you were too busy,” you taunted, low and teasing. You could feel him hard against your thigh—imposing yet utterly captivating—and it fueled your own mounting arousal.

“I never said I was above a little distraction,” he replied, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk.

Wesker’s fingers deftly pulled your costume further up your thighs, exposing your bare skin to the cool air in the stark contrast to the fire burning within you. The slight chill felt rousing against your heated flesh. Wesker’s eyes darkened as they traveled over every inch of you, and suddenly you were no longer just teasing him; he was drinking in the sight like a man starved.

“Dearheart, you've made quite the mess, haven’t you?" He asked, his voice low and sultry as his hands gently parted your legs further apart. You could feel your pulse quicken as his breath tickled against your skin, anticipation winding tighter within you like a coiling spring.

“Only for you,” you breathed back, taunting him further. It was exhilarating to see him so unraveled—yet still so dangerously in control. The power shift ignited something primal deep inside both of you.

With that, he dove forward, catching you off guard as his mouth latched onto your most sensitive spot. You gasped, back arching as he dove deeper into your cunt, his tongue swirling expertly around you, igniting sparks that raced through your entire being. Each flick and thrust of his tongue sent waves of pleasure cascading over you, pushing you toward the edge in an spellbinding spiral of pining.

You dug your nails into the leather of the couch, desperate to ground yourself as Wesker's mouth worked with remorseless precision. The heat pooled low in your belly, a dark fire igniting with every moment he lavished on you. He consumed you entirely, his slow torture blissfully relentless—an exquisite torment that made your breath hitch and your body writhe beneath his skilled service.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured between kisses along your inner thigh, his voice dripping with wickedness. You could only nod fervently, unable to form coherent words, the mere act of breathing becoming a challenge in the wake of such pleasure.

“Speak pet,” he commanded softly yet firmly, his eyes locking onto yours as he paused to hover just above you—a predacious gleam dancing within those depths.

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, struggling to maintain control even as desire threatened to engulf you whole. “I want more… I need more.”

With a wicked grin spreading across his face, Wesker surged back into action, fingers working in tandem with his mouth, thrusting deep into you as he continued. The sensation punctuated the air with an urgent tempo, a rhythm that echoed every thundering heartbeat in your chest. Each movement felt like an electric jolt, sparking fire through your veins.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for this," he growled, the determination in his voice vibrating through you like a deep bass note. His fingers curled inside you, drawing gasps from your lips as he found the perfect spot. With each thrust, he pushed you closer to that precipice where you could finally let go of everything else.

“Doctor…” His title was a prayer and a plea, spilling from your lips like raindrops in a summer storm. You gripped his hair tighter, urging him on as pleasure surged hotter and brighter. It was dizzying—both intoxicating and grounding at the same time.

But Wesker wasn’t done yet; instead of succumbing to your mounting desire, he withdrew just slightly, teasing you as he stared deeply into your eyes. “You wanted me to claim you,” he murmured darkly, “then I will do it right.”

Wesker roughly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a feral hunger in his eyes as he gazes down at you. Your head hangs over the armrest of the couch, your body manipulated into position by Wesker's strong hands. Your legs are bent and spread, one foot planted on the polished floor while the other is lifted high over his shoulder.

He positions himself between your thighs, slowly sliding his glistening shaft up your slick entrance, coating it in your sweet essence. The mere sensation of him inside you makes you whimper and squirm, but Wesker relishes in your arousal and helplessness. With agonizing slowness, he eases himself deeper, watching with dark satisfaction as his length disappears completely into your trembling form.

“Sing my name, dearheart.” He growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your core. “I want to hear it on your lips as you come undone.”

His hips begin to move in a slow, steady rhythm- deep, lingering thrusts that push you higher and higher. With each stroke, Wesker seems to burrow deeper into your depths, possessing and claiming you on a primal level. His grip on your hips tightens as he picks up the pace, driving you both closer to the edge of sanity.

“Al-Albert!” The name escapes your lips in a ragged moan, a plea for more and release. His only response is a low growl of approval as he ramps up his relentless thrusts, pounding into you with single-minded focus. The room is now filled with a symphony of wet flesh slapping against flesh, punctuated by your moans and his growled commands.

"Good nurse," he pants, glistening sweat forming on his brow as he leans over you, pressing his hot breath against your ear. “Let the world know who owns this delectable pussy.”

"Oh, God, yes," you moaned, arching your back. "Dr. Wesker! It's yours! I'm yours!"

Wesker's eyes glimmered with a feral intensity as he absorbed your words, each syllable wrapping around him like silken chains, binding you more thoroughly to him than any promise ever could. He leaned into you, the heat of his body suffusing the air between you; it was almost overwhelming, and you felt your senses heighten. The scent of sweat mingled with the rich, earthy smell of leather that clung to him like an aura, enveloping you in a cocoon of passion.

“Yours,” he repeated, letting the word roll off his tongue slowly, savoring it like a fine vintage wine. With every thrust, he established his claim anew—each powerful stroke resonating through your core and melding with your very essence. You felt as though he were drawing out something innate within you, awakening instincts you hadn't known you possessed. Your body responded eagerly to his demands; every gasp and moan that escaped your lips was a testament to his power over you.

Wesker’s fingers dug into your flesh, leaving heated trails behind as he relentlessly thrust deeper and deeper. Each time he pressed against that delectable spot within you, stars burst behind your eyelids like fireworks. You felt dizzy from the overwhelming pleasure that washed over you in waves, each more fierce than the last.

Your voice is trapped in your constricted throat, unable to escape as guttural moans turn into high-pitched whines and desperate shrieks. He's forcefully extracting something that lay dormant within you for far too long, igniting a need that almost feels violent.

Your body writhes under his rough touch, craving the release that only he can provide. In a frenzy, you beg for him to paint his seed inside you, your back arching so far that you feel weightless on the couch, your chest pressed against his in a heated embrace.

The sensation of your hardened nipples rubbing against his tender flesh causes Wesker to surrender a boyish moan, lost in the intense pleasure of your bodies colliding. Your roles in this game fade away as both of you reach the edge of sanity, desperate to break free and unleash the carnal desires that have been building between you.

Wesker grabs your face, locking eyes with you as he punctuates each thrust with a deep grunt. He slips his thumb into your mouth, and you eagerly welcome the intrusion, sucking on it with reckless abandon. A dark chuckle escapes him as he revels in your unbridled passion. "You're clenching," he taunts, causing furrows to form on your brows as you try to grasp onto any sense of control amidst the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

“Just come already!” You demand, nails digging into his flesh as you pull him closer. “I can feel it, Doctor. Your cock is twitching inside me.” Between breathless pants, you beg for more.

His cool facade crumbles as he gives in to his instincts. His once immaculate appearance is now disheveled, his hair tousled and sweat glistening on his skin. As your bodies move together in a frenzy, his moans fill the room.

“Don’t stop,” you plead, your voice desperate and raw.

He obeys, pushing deeper inside you as his release washes over both of you. Your walls clench around him, never wanting to let go.

“Please don't pull out,” you plead with him, desperate to keep him connected to you for just a little longer.

He obeys your command, his warmth mingling with yours as the two of you reach an explosive climax together. Sweat drips down both of your bodies as you revel in the intense pleasure that courses through you both.

In unison, you tumble onto the leather couch, your bodies entwined. Lying atop Wesker’s steady, rhythmic breaths, you press soft, lingering kisses against his chest and collarbone, savoring each touch. His hand, once so firm and rough, now rests gently against your hair, stroking softly, a quiet acknowledgment of your hard work.

Underneath normal circumstances, you'd run into his arms. Feet gravitating off the floor as Arthur wrapped you up in his arms, you'd sear your lips into his. The groans of commune fading as you stumble into your shared tent. Instead, you remain watching him stumble toward you.

"Hey now," he murmured, his voice thick and gravelly, reaching out for you as he sat down heavily on the tree stump nearby. "C'mon, pretty girl… ain't ya glad t'see me?"

You said nothing, just took a rag and dipped it in the bowl of water beside you. He was watching you, eyes soft in a way they rarely were.

"Oh. That damn look," you say just above a whisper.

"What look, baby?"

Arthur's fingers twitched, reaching toward your hip, but before he could make contact, you slapped his hand away without a word.

“Ow, darlin’,” he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Ain't no way t’treat a man who's been out fightin’ fer ya, is it?”

You ignored his words, the charm he tried to wrap around them like some fool’s gold trinket. You pressed the damp cloth to his forehead, dabbing at the blood smearing his brow and cheek in silence, ignoring his exagerrated winces and whimpers. His eyes searched your face, almost expectant, but you kept your expression steady, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of your love.

"Well, if yer not gonna say nothin'," he drawled, smirking in that way that made you ache and hate him all at once. "Guess I'll have t'find other ways t’make ya sweet again."

You clenched your jaw, finishing your task with swift, controlled motions. When you were done, you stood, turning away without another word, leaving him alone with nothing but the faint warmth of your touch and the silence that stretched in your absence.

Arthur watched you go, the easy grin slipping from his face as he sat alone on that stump, his fingers curling into fists, reopening wounds he hadn’t let heal.

The firelight flickered as you walked away, leaving Arthur sitting alone on the tree stump, though you hadn’t taken more than a few steps before you felt his presence behind you. His hand wrapped around your arm, firm yet careful, pulling you back against his chest. The scent of leather, smoke, and faint blood clung to him as his low, gruff voice sounded near your ear.

“Where d’ya think yer goin’, princess?” His grip was taut, but there was a warmth to it, a kind of possessiveness that he wore as naturally as the rough coat on his shoulders. “Thinkin' you could just walk away like that, after all I’ve done fer ya?”

You felt his arm snake around your waist, drawing you closer. His calloused fingers grazed your side, holding you there against him, reminding you just how easily he could keep you where he wanted.

“You know better than that,” he murmured, his lips just brushing your ear. “You’re mine, ain't ya? My pretty girl. Ain't nobody else in this world who’d take care of ya the way I do.”

A shiver ran through you as he tightened his grip, his voice dropping even lower, carrying that familiar mix of harshness and something close to tenderness. “Now, how ‘bout you show me a bit of that sweetness I been missin’? Not gonna act like you don’t want me just as much as I want you.”

You turned, meeting his gaze. There was a flicker in his eyes, something unspoken yet undeniable, and without waiting for a reply, he leaned in, his mouth pressing against yours, claiming you in a way that was rough and yet familiar. And as much as you wanted to pull away, his hold kept you grounded, unable to deny the undeniable pull he had over you. His lips felt oddly sweet, despite his demanor. He must've ate those peaches you packed for him. He must've thought of you, right?

Parting from the kiss for air, Arthur's grip remained firm. In response, you twisted in his arms, anger flashing in your eyes.

“Do you even know how worried I’ve been?” you snapped, shoving against his chest. “You disappear for weeks, not a single letter, not a damn word. I thought—” Your voice broke, the fear and frustration spilling out despite yourself.

Arthur’s brow furrowed, his grip loosening as he stared down at you. “Now, don’t start on that,” he muttered, the words defensive. “I been busy, doin' what needs doin'. You know how it is.”

You shook your head, unable to hide the hurt that had been festering in his absence. “What I know is you think you can just vanish and expect me to sit here like some fool, waiting on you. You don’t even care what that does to me, Arthur. Not one bit.”

His jaw tightened, eyes hardening. “Careful now,” he warned, but then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he muttered, “Guess that’s why you’re so needy, huh? Daddy wasn’t around either, if I remember right.”

The words cut deeper than any bullet. You flinched, the anger giving way to something raw and wounded. A part of your history that was shared in confidence, not as possible ammunition in an argument. Lashes flutter as you look up at him, tears flooding in the rims of your eyes. At the first sight of tears, Arthur’s expression shifted the second he realized what he’d said, the regret visible in the tight line of his mouth as he loosened his hold. He attempted to wipe a tear, you refuse his touch deepening the guilt he felt.

“Hey now, darlin’,” he murmured, voice softer, and this time, he gently took hold of your arms, his touch almost tender. “Didn’t mean it like that. Just… you know I ain’t the best with words.”

You tried to pull away, but he held on, his thumb brushing over your shoulder, almost apologetic. “Look, it’s just—” he took a breath, gathering himself. “You mean more to me than anythin’. I know I’m gone a lot, and maybe I don’t always say the right things, but I keep you here ‘cause I can’t let go. Don’t wanna lose ya, alright?”

His eyes met yours, a hint of vulnerability in them that you rarely saw, and he pulled you closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I need ya. Ain’t nobody else who can put up with me like you do.”

The anger softened, though the hurt lingered. Arthur’s hands drifted to cradle your face, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Forgive me, darlin’. I’ll do better. I swear it.”

You stood there, the words he’d just said still echoing in your mind, but you didn’t reply. Instead, you reached out, taking his wrist in your hand, and without a word, you began leading him toward the small tent the two of you shared.

Arthur chuckled low under his breath, shaking his head. “Oh, so now you’re givin’ orders, huh? Didn’t take ya for the bossy type, sweetheart.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder but said nothing, and his smirk faded as he followed you, the quiet between you both heavy and unspoken. Once inside, you gestured toward the thin pallet on the ground, barely even glancing at him.

“Lay down,” you instructed, your voice steady.

Arthur’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, the usual glint in them softened by something else, something almost vulnerable. He held your gaze, his expression shifting as he took you in, then, without a fight, he lowered himself to the bedroll. Arching himself up on his elbows, Arthur watches you in silence, as though waiting for you to make the next move.

You settled yourself on Arthur’s lap, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders, watching his surprise turn into something far more expectant as his eyes drifted over you. He looked like he was already expecting something else entirely.

“Listen close, Morgan,” you said, voice low but firm. “Tomorrow, you’re going into town and buying me a new dress. Something nice. To make up for the way you talked to me.”

Arthur raised a brow, a lazy smirk curving his lips as he streched his back, hands drifting to your hips. “Oh, so now I’m runnin’ errands, too? What’s next, princess—gonna have me pickin’ out your fancy shoes?” he teased, voice dripping with sarcasm. His fingers tightened on your waist, and you could feel the shift in his grip, the weight of his gaze that said he wasn’t too broken up about you being here, right where he wanted you.

You held his gaze, unflinching. “If I wanted new shoes, you’d be buyin’ those too. Lucky for you, I’m only askin’ for a dress.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, his fingers tracing small circles along your waist as he looked up at you, clearly relishing the control he still felt, even if he was playing along. “You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” He let his hand drift up your side, a smug grin spreading as he spoke. “Bossin’ me around, actin' all high and mighty. But let’s not pretend that dress is all ya came here for, darlin’.”

He looked at you, his eyes dark with that rough, insistent need he barely tried to hide. But you kept your cool, leaning in just close enough that he could feel your breath against his skin.

“You’re goin’ to town tomorrow, Arthur,” you repeated, each word soft but unwavering. “And if you want me to be sweet for you, you’ll come back with what I asked for.”

For a moment, he didn’t answer, his eyes narrowing as if he were weighing his choices. Then, with a quiet grunt, he leaned back, his smirk fading just enough to show a hint of compliance.

“All right, all right,” he muttered, feigned reluctance in his tone. “But don’t go gettin’ any ideas ‘bout makin’ this a habit.”

You gave a small, satisfied smile, and though you could tell he wanted more, he held back, just this once, watching you with that defiant glint in his eye and the promise of what was to come. It was almost like he was relishing in your newfound dominance, proud of his girl for standing up against a bastard like him.

However, his impatience had gotten the better of him. Arthur’s hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of your dress as he pulled you closer. He sat up with ease, adjusting your frame atop his. The rough texture of his calloused palms sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the tension that hung heavy in the air between you both.

“You sure know how to keep a man waitin’, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, like the scrape of stone against steel. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and piercing, filled with a mixture of hunger and something deeper—something possessive that made your heart pound in your chest.

You swallowed hard, meeting his gaze without flinching, unwilling to reward him so easily. “Maybe I just like seeing you squirm, Morgan.”

Arthur chuckled, a deep, gravelly rumble that vibrated through his chest and into yours. “Oh, I’m squirmin’ alright, darlin’. Just not the way you think.”

His hands shifted, one sliding up your back while the other drifted lower, fingers brushing boldly over the curve of your rear. “Ever thought ‘bout what it’d be like if I didn’t come back one day? Hmm?” His voice dropped, the hint of a challenge in it. “If I just disappeared, left ya here all alone like some poor, helpless damsel?”

Your breath caught for a moment at his words, but you forced yourself to stay steady. “Don’t flatter yourself, Arthur. You’re not that important.”

His lips curved into a slow, wolfish grin. “Liar,” he muttered, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours, noses almost touching. “You wouldn’t be stickin’ around this long if I wasn’t.”

You could feel his breath warm against your face, tempting and maddening, but you held your ground, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Instead, you let your hands trail down his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his worn shirt.

“Maybe I just like having someone to boss around,” you murmured, fingers tracing the edge of his belt. “Or maybe…” You paused, biting your lip before continuing, “Maybe I just like seeing you beg.”

Arthur’s eyes darkened at that, a glint of challenge sparking as he tilted his head back, his smirk widening. “Beg?” he drawled, mockingly. “You think you got it in ya to make me beg, princess?”

You shrugged, playing it cool despite the way your heart raced. “Guess we’ll see.”

Before he could get a word in, you moved swiftly, straddling his lap and pinning his wrists down. His brows shot up, surprised, but he quickly narrowed his eyes, a thrill of excitement glinting in their depths.

“Goin’ down on me?” he asked, voice low, thick with amusement.

You shook your head, leaning in until your lips were just a breath away from his. “Not yet. First, we need to talk.”

He groaned, exasperation clear in his tone. “Damn it, woman, I said I’d get ya the damn dress! Don’t tell me we’re really gonna do this talkin’ thing now,” he muttered, the frustration in his voice barely masking the eagerness simmering underneath.

You ignored his frustration, instead focusing on the way his chest heaved beneath you, the steady rise and fall of his breath. “How many times have I told you to be careful out there?” You asked softly, punctuating each word with a gentle nip to his earlobe. “How many times have I begged you to come back to me safe?”

Arthur’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something that looked like guilt. “I know, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “But sometimes it ain’t up to me.”

You nodded, understanding but not willing to let him off the hook so easily. “I get that, Arthur. But that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to worry.”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again, looking up at you with a strange mix of vulnerability and strength. “I’ll try harder, alright? For you.”

There was a sincerity in his tone that made your heart swell, but you knew better than to let him off too easy. “We’ll see,” you said again, this time with a hint of a smile. “Now… how about we start with you showing me just how sorry you really are?”

Arthur’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, his smirk returning full force. “Oh, you want to play games, huh?” He flexed his wrists, testing your grip, but you held firm. “Alright then… what do you want, pretty girl?”

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke.

“First… I want you to watch.”

As you rise to your feet, the tension between you and Arthur charges the air. The fire outside casts flickering shadows through the thin canvas of the tent, playing across your body. You unbutton your blouse slowly, teasingly, the fabric whispering against your skin as it parts. Your eyes never leave Arthur's, watching the way his breath hitches, his gaze darkening with desire.

You let the blouse fall to the ground, revealing the simple chemise underneath. Your movements are calculated to draw out the anticipation. You reach behind your back, slipping the straps down your arms, letting the chemise join the blouse on the ground. Arthur’s eyes follow every inch of exposed skin, his fingers twitching as if ready to touch but restrained by some invisible tether.

Next, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your skirt, glancing down at Arthur with a coy smile. “Like what you see?” you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Arthur’s throat works as he swallows, his voice rough when he finally replies. “Damn right I do,” he growls, his eyes burning with intensity.

“But don’t think for a second that this is just about lookin’.”

You lower the skirt, step out of it, leaving you in just your undergarments. The cool air touches your heated skin, causing goosebumps to rise along your arms and legs. You stand there, basking in his hungry gaze, feeling powerful and desired.

Arthur’s hands flex on the bedroll, his restraint evident in the tenseness of his muscles. “C’mere,” he murmurs, voice thick with want. “Let me show you how much I need ya.”

You move closer, your hips swaying with each step, drawing out his impatience. When you’re within reach, Arthur’s hands snap out, pulling you down onto the bedroll. He rolls over, positioning himself above you, those same calloused hands roaming over your body with a reverence that takes your breath away.

He kisses your neck, teeth grazing gently before his lips press a tender kiss to the spot. “M’gonna take care of ya,” he whispers, his voice vibrating against your skin. “Keep ya safe, make damn sure nothin’ ever hurts ya again.”

His mouth moves lower, tracing down your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of your skin. His hand cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple. “And I ain’t just talkin’ about buyin’ a dress, darlin’. I’m thinkin’ bout buildin’ somethin’ real with ya.”

You arch into his touch, feeling the heat pooling low in your belly. His words send a shiver through you, stirring emotions that go beyond physical desire. “What do you mean?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

Arthur lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours. There’s a raw honesty in them that makes your heart ache. “How ‘bout you change that name of yours to Mrs. Morgan?” he drawled, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Get rid of that man’s ugly name, show the world ya got someone who ain't ever gonna walk out on ya.”

He kisses the valleys between your chest, his warm breath all too familiar. His hands firmly grip your thighs, massaging the flesh as he punctuates his words.

“I wanna marry you,” he says simply, as if stating a fact. “Make you mine proper, not just in name. And…” He pauses, swallowing hard, “I wanna give you a baby. Our baby.”

The weight of his words settles over you, heavy and warm, filling the hollow places inside you that had ached so long. You reach up, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. “You promise?” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“I swear it,” he answers, his voice fierce. “On my life, I swear it.”

With that vow hanging in the air between you, Arthur kisses you again, deeper this time, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. The world narrows down to just the two of you, the heat of his body, the roughness of his beard against your skin. He shifts slightly, maneuvering until he’s positioned between your legs, his hardness pressing against your core.

You tilt your hips up, inviting him closer, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Arthur groans, the sound muffled by your kiss, his fingers digging into your hip as he grinds against you. The pressure builds, a slow burn that you both feed with desperate motions.

Arthur breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged. “Tell me you want this too,” he rasps, his voice strained with need. “Tell me you want me to be your man, to give you everythin’.”

You nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat, your body trembling with the force of your arousal. With a swallow, you shudder into his mouth, "I'm yours...and you're mine."

Arthur’s grip tightens, and he enters you with one smooth thrust, filling you completely. The coarse hairs of his pubic region scrape against your tender skin, sending jolts of both pain and pleasure throughout your body. You gasp for air, your lungs struggling to keep up with the overwhelming sensations.

"Take all of me," you beg, voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you deep inside."

As he sinks deeper into you, your wetness engulfs him, slicking his shaft and creating a slippery rhythm. Every thrust is like fire, burning through you until you can no longer contain your moans. The thought of maintaining composure for the sake of the camp is a distant memory as you give in to the primal urges consuming you.

"It's been too long," you whisper breathlessly. "I've missed you..."

But Arthur only grunts in response, lost in the ecstasy of being buried inside you again. "Missed ya too, darlin'," he manages to say through gritted teeth. "Missed how tight you always get around me." He pauses, making sure you're okay before beginning a steady pace, each movement deliberate and calculated. "I'll protect you," he growls. "Love you and our baby better than anyone else ever could."

Your nails dig into his back, anchoring yourself to him as waves of pleasure wash over you. His words feel like promises that could actually come true in this moment, surrounded by his love and strength.

Despite the prolonged desire that built up inside Arthur while he was away, he kept his movements rhythmic. Though he was eager, the sensation of you around him was one he wanted to drown in. Your body trembled underneath him, frenzying for release. "Come inside me," you gasp, eyes locked with his.

Arthur's calloused hands moved with surprising gentleness as he took your leg and lifted it, placing it over his shoulder. The shift in position allowed him to angle his cock deeper inside you, making you gasp at the sudden fullness. His thumbs pressed against your inner thighs, spreading your folds apart, revealing the glistening pink of your arousal. He was mesmerized by the sight, Arthur couldn't help but to stare at the way his cock disappeared into you.

"You’re so pretty," he murmured, his voice rough with need. "So beautiful when you take me like this. Just imagine how pretty you'll be when yer my wife, carryin’ my child."

What a thrill it was, the thought of it all. More than a bastard, but a husband too? Right now, all that mattered was the way he filled you, the way his thrusts grew more insistent, drawing gasps and moans from deep within you.

"That’s it, darlin'," he encouraged, his grip tightening on your thigh. "Take it. Take all of me. You’re doin’ so good, so damn good for me."

His praise fueled your arousal, making you push back against him, accepting every inch he gave. The pleasure was building, coiling tighter and tighter inside you, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Arthur’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he watched you, his own pleasure evident in the way his hips snapped forward with increasing urgency.

"Look at'cha," he whispered, his voice thick with admiration. "You are perfect. My perfect girl, takin’ me like a pro. Soon enough, you’ll be wearin’ my ring, feelin’ my baby growin’ inside you."

The intensity of his words, coupled with the way he was driving into you, made your vision blur with tears of pleasure. You could feel the warmth pooling low in your belly, the pressure building to an almost unbearable point. Arthur’s hands shifted, one still holding your thigh steady, while the other moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped.

"Almost there, sweetheart," he said, his voice a low growl. "Gonna make you come hard, just like you deserve. Just like I promised."

His fingers dug into your skin, not painfully, but possessively, as if he were branding you with his touch. The sensation, combined with the relentless rhythm of his hips, pushed you over the edge. Your body stiffened, muscles clenching around him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you. You cried out, your voice trembling with the force of your orgasm, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Arthur grunted, his own climax nearing as he continued to thrust into you, milking every last drop of pleasure from the moment. His hand left your face to press against your lower back, urging you to stay close, to keep taking him until he was spent. The combination of his praise and his unrelenting touch was too much, sending you spiraling through another wave of pleasure even as the first one began to wane.

"That’s it," he growled, his voice breaking as he finally reached his own peak. "Come for me, darlin'. Come hard, just like I know you can."

His words, laced with raw emotion and possessive heat, pushed you over once more, your body convulsing around him as you rode out the storm of your climax. Arthur followed soon after, his body tensing as he spilled himself deep inside you, his release marked by a guttural groan that echoed in the small tent.

For a moment, neither of you moved, locked in the aftermath of passion. Arthur’s breathing slowly returned to normal, his hands still resting on you, holding you close as if afraid to let go. You could feel the sticky warmth of his release between your legs, the evidence of his claim mingling with your own wetness.

"Damn, darlin'," he muttered, his voice still thick with satisfaction. "You never cease to amaze me. Always takin’ me so good, always wantin’ more."

You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, the mixture of love and frustration swirling within you. Despite everything, despite the arguments and the hurt, there was no denying the bond between you, the way he owned every part of you, body and soul.

"Don’t get used to it," you managed to say, your voice shaky but defiant. "I ain’t some doll you can play with and put away whenever you please."

Arthur chuckled, low and dark, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip. "Oh, princess, trust me. I know exactly what you are. And I wouldn’t have it any other way."

His words meant something to you, the implications clear. He wasn’t just talking about tonight, about this moment. He was talking about forever, about the life you would build together, the family you would raise. The thought both thrilled and terrified you, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

But before you could respond, before you could decide what to do next, Arthur’s hand shifted, moving down to cup your ass, pulling you closer. His cock, already softening, twitched inside you, a reminder of the connection that refused to break.

"Now," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "How ‘bout we see if we can make that baby together, just like we talked about?"

You shivered at the suggestion, the thought of carrying his child both exhilarating and daunting. But before you could answer, before you could even form a coherent thought, Arthur was already moving, adjusting you on his lap, positioning himself for another round.

“Can’t help it. You’re so pretty,” he replied, that grin widening as he watched you through the lens.

You met his gaze in the mirror, raising a brow as an idea flickered to life. Smiling to yourself, you reached for the loose knot at your waist, pulling the tie on your robe and letting the soft fabric slide from your shoulders. Beneath, you wore a delicate lingerie set.

You glanced back over your shoulder, catching the way his brow quirked, his eyes flaring with interest as James drank in the sight of you. His grip on the camera tightened, and you could almost feel the spark between you, the silent communication passing back and forth.

“Maybe I should make it more entertaining for you,” your was voice barely more than a whisper as you turned to face him.

James swallowed, the smirk fading into something more intent, his eyes on you and only you. He adjusts the camera, "are you sure about this?"

"Keep rolling," you request, before you slowly began to unhook the clasp of your bra. The silky material fell away, revealing your breasts to the cool air of the room. James’s breath hitched, the sound audible even over the soft whirr of the camera. You could see the excitment burning in his eyes, the way they traced every detail of your body.

“Do you like what you see?” you murmured, your fingers lightly brushing over your nipples, making them pebble in response.

“God, yes,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “Keep going.”

Encouraged, you slipped your hands down to the waistband of your panties. With a teasing glance at James, you hooked your thumbs under the delicate lace and slowly pulled them down. The fabric slid over your hips, leaving you completely naked. The camera followed every inch of your movements, every moment captured in crystal clear detail.

James let out a low groan, his grip on the camera tightening even further. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

You smiled at the sight of his erection. Turning slightly, you leaned against the vanity, providing James a perfect view of your ass. Your fingers trailed down your thighs, coming to rest on your inner thighs, just above your cunt.

“Touch yourself,” James commanded, his voice rough with need. “Show me how much you want this.”

You obeyed, sliding one hand between your legs. The sensation of your own fingers against your slick folds made you gasp softly. You pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing in slow, firm circles. The pleasure spiked quickly, a hot throb building deep within you.

“That’s it,” James encouraged, his eyes locked on your hand as it worked its magic. “Make yourself come for me.”

Your other hand moved to your breast, pinching your nipple between your thumb and forefinger. The dual stimulation sent waves of ecstasy crashing through you, making your hips buck involuntarily. You could feel the orgasm coiling tighter and tighter, ready to burst.

“Help me James,” you whimpered, your voice breaking with desperation. You turned to face him, legs wide. “I need you.”

James didn't hesitate, camera still in hand he crossed the room in three long strides. He grabbed your hips, pulling you against him, his hard cock pressing insistently against your thigh. Even clothed, you could feel the girth of it.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he demanded, his voice low and husky.

“Your cock,” you gasped, your fingers still working furiously at your clit. “I need to feel you inside me.”

James's grip on the camera tightened. He chuckled low in his throat. "How about I give you a command?" he suggested. "And you follow it exactly."

You nodded eagerly, your body humming with need. "Yes," you breathed, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He lifted the camera higher, framing you perfectly. "Suck my cock while I record," he instructed.

Your pulse quickened even more at his words, the thought of performing for him, of being watched so intimately, sending a thrill through you. You moved without hesitation, dropping to your knees before him. The cool air of the room brushed against your skin, making you shiver, but the heat radiating from James soon warmed you.

James adjusted the camera, ensuring every angle would be captured. His breath hitched as you reached out, your fingers curling around the waistband of his pants. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze through the lens, and slowly began to pull his pants down. Your hands trembled slightly with eagerness, but you maintained eye contact, letting him see the hunger in your eyes.

His cock sprang free, already hard and eager for your touch. You wrapped your fingers around it, feeling the warmth and hardness against your palm. A soft gasp escaped you at the sensation, and you saw James's eyes darken with desire as he watched you.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice rough with pleasure.

Encouraged, you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock. The taste of him, slightly salty and utterly intoxicating, made your mouth water. You flicked your tongue out, tasting him fully, delighting in the way his hips twitched beneath your ministrations.

James groaned, his fingers tightening on the camera as he recorded every second. "That's it," he urged, his voice strained. "Take me in your mouth."

You obeyed, opening your mouth wider and taking him in. The head of his cock pressed against the back of your throat, and you swallowed reflexively, sucking gently. Your hand continued to stroke him, matching the rhythm of your mouth, as you worked to bring him pleasure.

The sounds in the room were intimate and raw—your wet slurping noises, James's ragged breaths, and the faint whirr of the camera. Each noise seemed to heighten the intensity of the moment, making the air crackle with electricity.

You glanced up again, your eyes locking with James's through the lens. He looked wild with desire, his chest heaving with each breath, and you felt a surge of pride and arousal at being able to elicit such a response from him.

James's free hand came to rest on the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Fuck, you look so good like this," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Keep going, baby."

You moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through him. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you took the opportunity to deepen your suction, sliding your mouth farther down his length.

James's grip on your hair tightened, guiding you as he thrust into your mouth. The sensation of being controlled, of being used for his pleasure, was incredibly arousing. You reveled in it, your own need growing with each passing second.

Your tongue swirled around him, exploring every inch of his shaft as you kept your eyes locked on his. Completely devoted to him, the connection you two shared was palpable with lust.

James's breathing grew more erratic, his movements becoming jerky as he neared his climax. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice strained. "Where do you want it?"

You pulled off his cock, gasping for breath, and looked up at him with pleading eyes. "On my tits," you begged, your voice hoarse. "Please, James."

He didn't need to be told twice. With a low growl, he aimed his cock at your chest, his hand moving faster on his shaft. The first spurt of come hit your skin with surprising force, splattering across your breasts. You gasped and the sensation of his hot release settling onto your skin.

James continued to orgasm, his hips jerking as his release erupted from him. Wave after wave of hot cum coated your chest, the sticky substance pooling between your breasts and trailing down to your navel.

You stared up at him in awe, feeling a sense of accomplishment at having brought him to such an intense climax. He panted heavily, his face flushed with exertion, as he finally lowered the camera onto the dresser, its lens still focused on you two.

Wiping his hand across his forehead, "fuck, you're amazing," he whispered, his voice filled with admiration.

Rising to your feet, you smiled up at him, your body thrumming with satisfaction. "I love giving you a good show," you admitted, your voice soft and sincere.

James leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting himself on you, and you moaned into the kiss, your body arching towards his.

"Now, I want to taste you.”

Before you could respond, he sank to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs. His tongue darted out, licking a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, God,” you cried out, your body trembling with anticipation. “Don’t stop.”

James chuckled darkly, his tongue flicking back to your clit, circling it with relentless pressure. His fingers found their way to your entrance, slipping inside you with ease. You moaned loudly, your hips rocking against his hand, needing more.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. “Just from sucking my cock.”

His thumb pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing in time with his fingers thrusting inside you. The pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to overwhelm you. You could feel the orgasm hovering just on the edge, ready to rip out of your chest.

“I’m close,” you panted, your voice strangled with need. “Please, James, I need…”

“Come for me,” he growled, his thumb flicking rapidly over your clit. “Let go.”

The command pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed, a scream of release tearing from your throat as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. James held you steady, his fingers and thumb working relentlessly until you collapsed against the vanity, gasping for breath.

He gathered you into his arms, cradling you close as you both fought to catch your breath.

“Mmm,” you hummed, nuzzling into his neck. "Do you have enough tape, I wanna take this to the bedroom."

James looked at you with wide eyes,