Untitled

It was raining.

Again.

Drumming harshly against your older metal roof. Mostly empty rooms in the hollow home. Living on your own ever since your mother passed away last year. She had been sick which was why you came back home to begin with. It was your responsibility to care for her. You were all she had left.

Clap of lightning. Illuminating the evening sky. Beautifully painting everything in its pinkish glow. It reminded you of when you were younger. Sitting out on the porch swing during the heavy rain. Mist waving in from the sides as you laid against your mom. Talking about how God was in Heaven bowling with the angels. That’s why sometimes the thunder was louder than others. It brought you comfort, even now. As childish as it seemed, it was a nice thought.

An especially harsh strike of lightning that had to be directly in your backyard made you jump. Power flickering off. Sighing when it did not come back on. Noting the note scribbled on the fridge that told you to buy new candles after the last power outage left you without.

And you were not a fan of darkness. Especially being alone in the darkness. You could feel your hands begin shaking at your sides. Sweat already beading along your hairline. Grabbing your phone and shining the small flashlight around the room. Swiftly grabbing your oversized raincoat, throwing on your ankle high boots, and heading to the door.

Harsh wind blew your hood off your head. Scoffing as you reached to fix it. Squinting at the darkness. Streetlights out as far as your newly adjusting eyes would allow you to see. You looked to your right seeing the faint yellow glow through a transom window on the side of your neighbors house.

As much as you hated to face the storm, it would only be for a simple minute. Taking a deep breath and running down your driveway, turning and going down his. Puddles splashed along your legs. Water pooling in the bottom of your short boots. Regretting not buying the taller ones.

You stepped upon the stoop before his front door. You had been here a few times before. When your mother would have you drop off desserts or dinner for the lonesome Mr. Reed. One of the only visitors he ever received. Assuming he was without family, as you were now.

Hesitation met your fist as it extended to meet his large front door. Ears ringing for a moment before another lightning strike had you jumping out of your skin. Hurriedly knocking.

No response.

You held yourself for a moment. Feet stamping over and over as you hoped for some sign of life behind the door. Unable to wait when the wind shifted and the rain was pouring down your back. Knocking a little harder this time.

“Coming,” his voice called from inside. Muffled but still audible. Rummaging around inside. Able to see his shadow from what you assumed was his lit candles. Clearly not prepared for company.

Your teeth began chittering. Blinking to get the water out of your eyes as you open mouth breathed. Trying not to get any up your nose.

The door creaked open. Skeptical blue eyes softening when they met you. Looking like a sad puppy left out in the cold. Shivering and faking a smile. His brows upturned at the sight. Smiling with his bright white teeth as he looked past you.

“Hi, Mr. Reed,” you shuttered.

“Hello, Dear. What… are you doing out in this storm?”

“I— uh… is your power out too?” You peaked into his house with your question. Welcoming glow of candles shining behind him.

He opened and closed his mouth as his eyes scanned up and down your body. Clothes soaking wet and gripping your skin. Body trembling with each gust of wind that would hit you.

“Ah. Yes. And I was just about to prepare dinner. Guess that’s on hold for now,” he smiled with a chuckle. Looking over his shoulder for a moment as he spoke.

You returned his expression. Standing with your arms crossed tightly over your chest as silence filled the space between you. Rain bouncing off metal roofs. Painting deep puddles along the ground you stood on.

“M-Mr. Reed, I hate to impose, but all my candles—“

“Oh, of course! Please, please, come in, dear. Get out of that dreadful storm,” he stepped back out of your way. Encouraging you with his hand to come inside.

You were relieved. Grateful for his generosity. It’s not like he owed it to you. Simple act of kindness from his heart.

It was warm. Strong contrast to the outdoors. You inhaled as you stood in the doorway. Familiar smell halting you. Not wanting to track any rain or mud into his home. Sound of his locks clicking caused you to look over your shoulder. Meeting his smile.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Reed,” you sighed beginning to unzip your jacket. His hands on your shoulders made your heart skip. Guiding your coat off your shoulders. Folding it over his arm before stepping before you, “I’ll take your coat for you, dear. Let you take your boots off. Get comfortable, I’m sure we are in for a long night.”

Singsong voice causing your cheeks to beam. Watching him disappear down the hallway. Sitting on the floor to remove your boots. Far too tight for their own good. A fight to get off. Grunting as you popped each of them off. Socks beyond soaked. Opting to remove them as well, tucking them into your shoes.

Finally, you could pinpoint the smell. Blueberry pie. A candle sitting on his coffee table. Identical to the candle one of your old dorm mates had. It almost felt homey. Familiar in a way that made your heart steady.

Mr. Reed reentered. You were still sat in the floor at his entryway. He cocked his head in question, “You don’t have to sit on the floor like a dog. You’re welcome in my home.”

You laughed. Soft embarrassment in your bones. “Yes, sir. I was just trying to get my shoes off,” you smiled at him. Hoisting yourself up. Pretending your damp clothes were not rubbing you in all the wrong spots. Discomfort in their wake.

You took a seat in front of his coffee table. Admiring the cute cartoon berries on the candle. Catching Mr. Reed’s attention.

“You like that one?”

“One of my dorm mates in college had one that she would burn anytime she needed to cram a study session. Just smells familiar, y’know?”

He smiled as he sat across from you. Wrinkles illuminated by the soft glow. He was handsome, no doubting that. Betting he broke many hearts back in his day. Looking down at his collared shirt. Noting how high the buttons went up. Calling to you like a siren. Wanting to see more of him.

And it was wrong. To lust. That had been true your entire life. Drilled into you from anyone who pushed Biblical Ideology. Especially after someone who had been nice enough to invite you into his home.

It’s not like you had not seen his eyes wandering also. When you would drop off a casserole or dessert. How he would practically stalk you as you walked into his kitchen to lay it on top of his stove. Catching the way his pupils would bounce back to your face from either your chest or ass. Sending a jolt of confidence through you.

How could something so immoral fill you with so much joy?

“Not a fan of the dark, I take it?”

You were taken aback by his cold read of you. Absolutely true. It was not something you were hiding, just not something normal adults shared. It was kiddy, in a way.

“Yeah,” you sighed, “Especially with mom gone and all. I don’t like being alone.”

“I am always happy to keep you company,” Mr. Reed analyzed you. Seeing how you would react to that. Watching the way your eyes met his then immediately deviated with shyness. How you barely pulled your lip between your teeth.

Oh. You were going to be a fun one.

“What do you like to do for fun, Mr. Reed?”

Innocent question. It had his mind tracing the catacombs of his basement. His usual speech that he gave to the poor, Catholic— Mormon— Christian— Muslim— whatever girl that came knocking to spread her gospel. The spritz of the sprinklers. Having full power.

You can’t answer a question like that. Especially when such a pretty girl had waltz right into his domain. Willing. Wanting. Needing.

“I collect Vinyl. Researching music and religion, anything that could overlap. I enjoy connecting the dots,” he nodded as he spoke.

“You’re very religious?” you gulped. Something more naughty at the idea that you were fantasizing about a Man of God. Or whatever God he believed in.

“Oh, now don’t twist my words,” he chuckled, “I research religion. Any and all. Isn’t it so interesting how so many share the same key stories? Yet each believes theirs is the one true religion. The correct path. The answer. Really makes you wonder.”

You sat with that. Remembering one of the first times you questioned your religion. Learning that women were not supposed to cut their hair, yet every single woman you knew did. Sending your youthful self into a spiral of turmoil. Being told that God made exceptions to the rules. Which made no sense.

How could something as concrete as the Bible have exceptions? Morphing to fit whatever story needed to be told that week. Learning the hard way there were no absolutes in life. Everything was gray.

You exhaled.

“And you? Y/N, are you religious?”

You pushed your lips together firm. That was a question you had not been asked in a long time. Yes, you prayed with your mother while she was dying. No, you did not go to church.

“Hmm,” you thought, “I… I was raised Christian. Brought up in church. And, I still believe there is a God. But, not the way churches make it seem..? Modern Puritan Culture has tainted what the Bible guided people to do. And at the end of it all, it’s a book that we have to believe was written with God’s influence. We have to believe it was made with our best intentions. And I guess it is easier for people to believe when it fits their narrative. Which is why Churches are the way they are now. Money hungry and political—“

You realized you were rambling. Far too in depth for such a simple question. Closing your eyes and softly smiling. Blowing your breath out as you composed yourself, “I’m sorry. I would say I am Agnostic. A hopeful one at that. But, no I do not partake in religion. Not really.”

Mr. Reed blinked at you. Eyebrows raised as he leaned back. Straightening his spine against his chair. Adjusting the glasses that sat at the tip of his nose. Over-exaggerating his breath as it escaped his lungs.

“Now that… is an inquisitive answer, my dear. Far more self aware than most washed-up-Christians. Don’t ever apologize for that!” Mr. Reed seemed giddy. Excited to have a conversation with someone as open to the concept as he was. Not forced into such a tight box by societal norms. Pretending it did not immediately cause his cock to throb between his legs.

He clapped his hands together in glee. Rising from his seat and walking over to a cabinet in his living room. Taking out an older record. Pretending to blow dust off the cover, flapping it away with his hand. Grinning over mischievously at you. Placing it on the small record player that was sitting below one of his higher up windows. Clearly battery operated. Starting off with a beautiful guitar riff.

Immediately recognizing the tune.

“The Hollies? Oh wow, I haven’t heard this since I was a little kid,” you grinned. A soft feeling of nostalgia pitting in your stomach. Remembering how the voices of The Hollies, The Eagles, Tom Petty, and many others would fill the walls of your home on Saturday mornings. Your mother and father having a preference for 70s style rock. Products of their time.

Mr. Reed looked over at you with a glance that no one had ever given you before. Like you were on the same playing field. Understanding each other beyond a normal level. Finally meeting his match.

“I remember when mom and dad told me about that big fiasco with Radiohead. Ended up with them being credited as co-writers. But I still like ‘Creep’, even if they do sound similar,” you sighed. Still able to vividly see them dancing together to their favorite vinyls. Leaning over the arm of your chair, cheek resting in your palm. Staring longingly at the spinning record. Almost like your parents would appear if you looked hard enough.

“It is refreshing to talk to someone as… informed as I. Your mom and dad raised you with exquisite taste,” Mr. Reed’s face was beaming. Entranced watching you sing softly under your breath. One of his brows raising as he slowly walked over to you. Taking his place behind your chair. Hands ghosting down to your shoulders once more. Firm fingertips dotted along your clavicle. Melting into his touch. Heart ramming into your ribcage repeatedly.

“Were you aware that Radiohead sued Lana Del Rey for plagiarizing ‘Creep’? Ironic to think. Suing someone over a song that you, yourself, were sued for years prior,” the smile on his tone was notable. Fingers splaying further along your upper chest, barely above your breasts.

“I had no idea,” you admitted, voice not above a whisper. Not keeping up with things as you should be. Leaving you with many things to learn. And you wanted him to be the one to teach it all to you.

Mr. Reed’s fingers dipped below the seam of your collar. Curling up around the mound of your breasts. Your head leaning further into the seat. Allowing him full view of where his hands were venturing. Eyes falling shut when they reached inside the cup of your bra. Eliciting soft pressure against the meat of your chest. A broken and soft whimper crawled its way out of your throat.

The record scratched.

Both of you turning in tandem to look at the player. Ripping you completely from what was about to happen. Mr. Reed scoffed. Stomping over and lifting the needle. You breathed out. Like some invisible hold had been taken away.

“Damned old thing,” he chastised the machine. You smiled watching him. A thin layer of sweat decorating your skin. Slick pooling between your legs.

His hand gripped the side of the cabinet next to him. The other resting on the same table as the record player. Knuckles white as his limbs shook with a clear display of rage. Frustration washing down his broad back.

So you stayed in your place. Acting like the perfect guest. Waiting for him to return and tell you some new fact. Giving him time to recoup.

His loud sigh made you look back to him. Pulling his glasses off and pinching the bridge between his nose. Brows furrowing and forehead ridden with lines. Thick fingers ran down his face as he craned his neck backward for a moment.

“I apologize for the interruption. Bought the thing at an old thrift shop, it has always given me trouble,” Mr. Reed walked back to join you. Pulling his pant legs as he sat. Making sure to hide the bulge that pressed against his zipper.

“I don’t mind. We have all night,” you smiled. Quizzing blue eyes met yours. Challenging you for a moment. Your face flushed suddenly. Understanding the double meaning of what you had said.

You held your hands up in a defensive position, “I— I don’t mean to overstay my welcome, of course! Just— with the power being out and all… I thought— sorry.” You stumbled like a newborn deer. Hiding your shame in your hands. Cheeks hot to the touch.

Mr. Reed chuckled. Teeth on display as he smirked at you. Corner of his mouth curved harshly upward. He liked embarrassing you. You were easy. Having the upper hand of your want for him. Knowing he could play it in a way that would have you shriveled and begging by the end of the night. Keep you as his forever.

“You would never believe I was good in English class with how bad I am with words,” you admitted through your hands. Laughing it off as a joke.

The sound of him shuffling before you caught your attention. By the time you had worked up the nerve to look at him he was standing above you. Looking down at you through his lenses. You felt small. Weak. Vulnerable. Fixing your posture and flattening your hands in your lap as you looked up at him. Fluttering your lashes with doed eyes. His thumb and pointer traced your jawline. Pinching your chin to keep your gaze looking up at him. Lips parted slightly, but not willing to question.

“Mr. Reed…”

“Y/N…”

He mimicked you. Your mouth was dry. He had taken it all from you. Leaving you with an aching core that begged for him to fill. Even with such a small touch, you knew you would give yourself to him. However he wanted you.

You wanted to please him.

“Do you show this much interest in every older man in your life?” A hint of condescension. Not bothering you. Used to being talked down to.

“I’m interested in you,” you breathed.

His brows jumped.

A surprising answer. Preparing for your admission of some father figure that was lacking in your life that caused you to gravitate towards older men. Some pity story about your uncle who touched you, or school teacher who said you were his favorite student.

Because wasn’t that your generation’s entire thing?

How pitiful life had been for you. Born into a world of tragedy and lightspeed trajectory towards the future. Smart phones and social media made you all depressed. And you used those very things to whine about it. Doing anything and nothing just to receive a couple of fake clicks from fake people. Anything to boost your ego. Your poor, fragile egos. Pathetic.

But not you.

No, you were all too aware of what you wanted. Not because he was older and filled some stupid void. But because he saw you for who you were. A girl who liked her men older and a little strange. Liking to be challenged intellectually. To have everything you knew turned on its head. Falling apart from the mere touch of his fingers on your chest. Needy. Broken, but not beyond repair. All alone in that big house next to his. How could you ever do it alone?

Perfect for him.

“Oh, my sweet Y/N,” Mr. Reed sighed. Hand cupping your cheek now. Thumb circling into your warm skin. Your pupils were blown. Barely distinguishable in the barely lit room. Drowning out the color of your irises. Like the ocean seen off an oil rig. So easily lost in. Unsure of when you could pull yourself out. Or when he could come up for air.

You pressed your face into his palm. Allowing your body to relax with his touch. Eyes falling shut.

“Please,” it was barely audible. Like you were not the one in control as you said it. Your body giving itself up to him. There was no immediate reply. Which had you tensing up all over again. Fearing you had misstepped. Crossed a boundary that he was uncomfortable with. Blowing this whole thing to shreds.

“I’m yours,” your last ditch effort. Complete compliance. Willing to do whatever he wanted. Wanting to do whatever he needed. He could take your soul with him for all you cared. Wrap himself so deeply in it that you never know where he ends and you begin.

His smile was evil. Purely driven by desire. Lust. Greed. All of it wrapped in a pretty bow around you. Like you had been the present he begged for all year.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

It was like an arrow straight through your chest. Sheepishly retreating back into yourself. Assuming this was his way of denying you. Turning you away.

“I have to ask you,” his voice cascaded down your skin. Softly petting through your hair. Kneeling down to meet you at eye level. His hands splayed across your thighs. Holding your eyes with an unyielding strength, “Before we continue our little rendezvous. Do you trust me?”

You nodded before you could formulate words. Of course you trusted him. Knowing his more matured hands would care for you. Even if he was rough or harsh or brash. You could devote yourself to him.

“I need to hear you say it,” his voice was low. Hint of irritation, not one to repeat himself.

“Of course, Mr. Reed. I… I trust you entirely,” swallowing feeling completely overwhelmed by his piercing gaze.

Faith that only a woman needing to fill the void Church had forced through her could have. Craving companionship. Direction. Purpose.

And, God, he was willing.

“There she is,” his voice was steady and almost gentle. Commanding you in a way you had never felt before. Hooks already razoring into your very being.

You smiled. Cheeks heating up again as blood rushed through you. Communing in your core. You slowly rested your hands on his. Fingers dancing up his arms and flattening against his shoulders. Pushing yourself forward so that your foreheads rested together. The smell of his aftershave filling your senses. Aged skin feeling soft against yours.

It was all so slow. Unwilling to move too quickly. Fear of scaring the other off apparent. One of his hand cupped the side of your face, pinky framing your jaw. Fingertips lightly pressing against your hairline. Quivering at his gentle hand.

Slowly, he shifted. Pressing his lips to yours. Experimental. Careful.

Your nerves were on fire. Sent into overdrive from the smallest romantic gesture. Everything you wanted formulating in this very moment. Better than what you had imagined when you touched yourself to him.

Never breaking from each other’s mouth. Slowly introducing tongues to the mix. Exploring the taste of the other’s pallet. Deepening the kiss with each passing moment. Turning hungry. Your hands grasped at the sides of his face. Nails puncturing little crescents into his cheeks. His body forcing yours back into the chair.

Lips gently trailing down to your throat. Nipping and kissing your pulse. The feeling of your heartbeat on his lips had him feeling like a rabid animal. Like you were his prey already trapped between his jaws.

Mr. Reed pulled back to take in the look of you. Hooded eyes and weak figure slumped into the seat before him. Adoring the way your body absentmindedly followed his forward when he removed himself from you. Not yet prepared for separation.

You were the embodiment of temptation.

His hands were on your waistband. Thumbs hooking around as he spoke, “Tell me, Y/N. Do you masturbate?”

Bluntness of his question taking you aback. Curious of the nature in which he was asking. Was he going to punish you depending on your answer? You thought it best to tell the truth.

“I do,” you admitted under your breath.

His grin was wicked. Tongue glazing over his teeth as he looked at you. Slowly guiding your pants down to reveal your panties. Goosebumps perking along your now exposed thighs.

“Tell me more,” he leaned down and kissed your skin.

“I-I like to read dirty stories,” you admitted with a stumble, “And I have a-a small bullet vibrator in my nightstand. I like to do it before bed. Makes me sleep better.”

“What do you think about?”

You swallowed. Craning your head back as he continued revealing your body. Pants thrown somewhere behind him now. Feeling his articulated hands explore your skin. Tracing every scar or bump that plagued you.

“Sometimes… you, Mr. Reed,” you breathed out as he spread your legs open.

Displaying your most vulnerable parts for himself. Looking at how you soaked through the thin cotton. Flattering him. His finger prodded at your clothed slit. Causing your body to jump at the sudden touch. His shoulders bounced as he laughed to himself.

“Am I good in your imagination?”

“The best.”

Oceanic eyes met yours. Smirking when he met you. Large hands petted your soft skin. Planting kisses along your thighs.

“Have you ever received oral sex?”

You recalled when you were in college. Allowing one of the boys you were hooking up with to try it out. Sloppy and misguided. Unsure of what he was doing. Tongue prodding your labia and never finding your clit. Only doing it for his own benefit, not caring if you came.

“Yes,” you refused to lie.

“Did you cum?”

A laugh erupted from you. Defense mechanism to shield you from the embarrassment. You always thought it was something wrong with you. Smiling as you shook your head in disapproval. Hand slicking down your hair as you exhaled, “No.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he smiled, “You’ve only ever climaxed by your own accord?”

You thought for a moment. Recalling all the previous times you had sex. Having to finish yourself off afterward each and every time. Shameful when you thought about it that way.

“Yes, sir,” you spread your legs a little wider for him. Slumping further into the chair so that he could access you better. His finger ran under the fabric that clothed your entrance. Barely exposing your sensitivity to the air as his knuckle grazed your folds.

“Does the ‘God’ you believe in think such a sweet disciple as yourself should have to suffer in such a way?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat when he slid your panties clean off your legs. Taking each leg and propping them on his shoulders. Breath fanning against your slick core. Enamored by the way you twitched and pulsed. Never had he had someone want, or need, him so badly.

You reached forward. Urging for him to become eye level with you once more. His chest hovering over your exposed body. Framing his face with your hands. Flicking between his eyes. Close enough to feel the rhythmic breaths that fell from the other. Hands praising him. Letting him know who it was you were worshipping exactly.

“Do you think I deserve to suffer? A life of mediocrity and self indulgence. Never knowing such ethereal release that could be gifted to me,” you calmly asked.

Mr. Reed’s jaw locked. Swallowing hard as he scanned your face. Full submission. Placing yourself in his hands. All you were, and all you could be, his for the making. Praying for the path you needed to follow. So clearly laid out before you.

“It’s you,” you whispered.

His eyes widened. Chest rising and falling quicker than before. Anticipation vibrating throughout his figure. Facade cracking momentarily. Finally feeling the control he had long chased after. An offering crawling to him by its own volition. His holy grail.

“I can show you pleasure you’re incapable of imagining,” his tone was low and gruff. Lips capturing yours once again. Quickly resuming his previous position. Kissing directly above your slit. Finally licking a stripe up it.

You bucked and whined in response. Ecstasy flowed through every inch of your being. His tongue riding you along the coarse. Heels digging into his shoulder blades. Reaching for his greying locks for stability. Spine arching towards him as you choked out a moan. His tongue swirled and sucked your clit.

Your body was white hot with pleasure. Unable to contain the moans and breaths that fell from your ‘O’ shaped mouth. The most stunning blue eyes peered up from your groin. Nose nudging against your sensitive nub. He was an expert. Perfectly coaxing you along for the ride.

One of his hands wrapped under your leg, slowly pushing a finger into your hole. Massaging the spongy spot at your entrance. Curling and pumping while his mouth continued to devour you. His eyes were rolling back into his head. Silently enjoying your delectable flavor. Grip on your thigh burning the further he delved. Losing control over his desires for a moment. Humping into the cushion you sat upon. Needing to feel some kind of relief for his aching cock.

Thrusting giving you an extra sense of pleasure. Bodies moving in tandem as he chased your high. Wanting more than anything for you to unravel around him. Purely from his touch. The only man who could ever give you release. For you to truly show your soul to. Allow all walls and guards to crumble at his hand.

“Mr. Reed…” you trailed. Voice squeaky and airy.

He finally came up for air. Replacing his tongue with his thumb. Continuing to place the perfect amount of pressure on it. Lower half of his face slick with your juices. Panting as drooped eyes lasered into yours.

“I-I’m so close. Please, may I?”

He could have blown his load in his pants right then. Even when high on sensual pleasure, you wanted his permission. His blessing. It was all his to permit you. Most girls were so greedy. Giving in without a warning or question. But here you were. Finally earning what you had so long deserved from another human, yet you still wanted to make sure it was what he wanted.

Snickering as he kissed the bit of your belly that was exposed, “Yes, my dear. Give it all to me.”

Unraveling from his touch. Moaning louder than you had ever before. Legs shaking violently against his shoulders. Succumbing to your Earthly desires. Because that was all you truly had control of. The only denomination worth following. Your savior leaned back watching the way your insides convulsed around his finger. Creaming along his digit almost kissing it a thank you.

Your vision blurred. Blinking up at the ceiling. The room spinning and separating. Overlapping the other layers attempting to make your vision whole again. Throat straining to catch breath. Arms like noodles at your sides.

Mr. Reed laced one hand into yours. Interlocking fingers. Smiling widely up at you. Intoxicated from his touch. Barely able to keep your eyes open. Open mouth breathing causing your chest to heave.

His beautiful servant.

“You did so good for me, Y/N. My pretty girl. You sure know how to make this old man happy,” Mr. Reed pushed forward to kiss you tenderly.

“Better than anything I’ve ever experienced,” you drawled, words mixing together. Hazy state of mind causing you to blink slow. The weight of his hand against yours the only thing grounding you.

“I need you to stay with me, dear,” Mr. Reed stood before you. Stepping back to allow the space for you to breathe properly. Prominent outline of his erection pressed into his pants. Catching your heavy eyes. Sparking a second wind inside you. Crawling onto your knees before him. Hands splayed against the back of his clothed thighs. Head leaned back to meet his sparkling blues. Knees scraping against his hard wood flooring. Any amount of pain was worth it to repay him.

Your fingers met his belt buckle. Wordlessly asking permission with a look. His smile caught the reflection of the candle’s flame. Canines on beautiful display, “Go ahead.”

Hastily removing it from his waist. Throwing it beside you in the pile of your own clothing. Taking your time to undo his button and pull his zipper down. Tugging his trousers down his thighs. Revealing his fully hard cock trapped behind tight underwear. Fabric darker in a spot from where his tip leaked. Leaving little to the imagination with how transparent the white material was. You placed a kiss against his shaft. His body shuttered, hands balling at his sides.

It had been a long time since someone touched him in this way. Usually just putting on some old porno channel and yanking himself off. Still shocked he did not have to do anything drastic to you for you to throw yourself at him.

You kitten licked up his length. Tongue curling against the lip of his tip. Faint salty taste filling your mouth when you sucked the tip through his underwear. Mr. Reed’s hand grasped firmly in your hair. Soft sting where he met your roots. Veins popping in his neck as he tried to restrain himself.

Your hands reached for the band of his underwear, sudden bruising strength wrapping around your wrists. Paralyzing your hands. Wide eyes fluttered up at him. Fear that you had upset him in some way causing your stomach to turn. Feeling tears immediately prick the corners as your eyebrows furrowed. Frowning uncontrollably.

He laughed at your pitiful glance, “As badly as I want you to suck me off, I can’t spring back like I used to. I want to make sure I get to fill your cunt tonight, dear.”

Your skin tingled. Biting your lip. Feeling suddenly embarrassed by his strong eyes and casual demeanor. Tucking your face into your shoulder as you exhaled a half-laugh. Smiling widely. Biting into the meat of your cheek.

Shame was customary for you. Being taught from a young age that you needed to feel it. Earthly wants. Human nature. Unholy desires. Shame was what steered us closer to God. Satan wanted you to enjoy your time on the mortal plane. The Church made sure you knew it all.

Yet even under Mr. Reed’s harsh gaze you felt none. In a situation that would normally keep you up at night, you found yourself content. Unfamiliar relief that you never knew you were capable of.

“However you want me…” you peered into him. Hands folded in your nude lap. Back straight. Making sure to keep your field of vision only on his face. Letting him know that you were compliant. Even if he stopped right now, it was all up to him. You would be grateful for anything he was offering you.

And, he wanted you. Nearly spilling in his pants simply from satisfying you. Appreciative of his knowledge and touch. You were his perfect subject. Already understanding everything he could only pray to inform others of.

Mr. Reed’s hand extended to you. Placing yours in it and rising to your feet. Curious eyes questioning him. Closing in the gap between your faces. Thoughts strong behind his eyes.

Of course, he wanted to take you into his faux chapel. Wanted to fuck you in front of all the religious imagery he knew you were all too familiar with. Maybe even make you read verses about temptation while he was nestled between your walls.

But he knew he need save that for a different day. One where you had not had release in a while and needed it so badly that your voice would crack and strain with each line of text. Pleading with him like he was who you worshipped. The only one capable of giving you everything you could want or need.

The idea sent chills down his spine.

Mr. Reed’s hands rested on your hips. Pinkies touching your bare flesh as his eyes darted between yours. Taking a deep breath before speaking, “My bedroom is down the hall. I want you there.”

He stepped away beginning down the pitch black hallway. Your throat tightened. It was void of any light. No reflections or time to adjust. Stomach churning at the thought.

Mr. Reed paused in the cased opening. Looking over his shoulder at you. Meeting your hesitant figure. Clearly ridden with fear. His large palm extended out for you.

“Coming, dear?”

You had the grace of a newborn deer. Exhaling as you took his hand. Diving into the nothingness. Trusting that he would not lead you astray. This was his sanctuary. There was nothing to fear here.

Rounding a corner making you jump when your shoulder bumped the wall. Earning yourself a laugh from Mr. Reed. The click of a doorknob told you that you had arrived at your destination. Room darker than the hall you came from. Lacking windows. Closing the door behind you the only thing you knew was to stay still. Feet firmly planted on the carpeted floor. Waiting for his direction.

Sparking of a lighter caused your eyes to squint. Mr. Reed stood before his chester drawers, candle in his non-dominate hand. An old transparent bic was pinched between his fingers. Holding the flame to the already burnt wick. Setting the wax down from where you presumed he picked it up.

You looked around the bedroom. Older wallpaper matching that of the rest of the home. Crown molding half way up the wall, a beautiful accent. Giant canopy bed placed at the center. Hand carved, wooden beams accented each corner of the bed. Rising nearly all the way to the ceiling. Swirls and valleys decorating it.

The room smelt strongly of him. His body wash and shampoo. Whatever older cologne he sprayed on everyday out of habit. Comforter an older, hand stitched looking pattern. Several pillows pushed against the headboard. Bed perfectly made as you imagined he did every morning.

Pictures of him in his youth hang along the walls. Before his hair had greyed and back when you were sure he had women crawling at his feet. As handsome as you had imagined. Dark brown locks still the same as they were now. Noting the thinner framed glasses he sported in, what you imagined, was his university days. When he would have been closer to your age. More appropriate to be caught entangled with.

His hands wrapped around you from behind. Splaying wide fingers across your stomach under your shirt. Lips gently kissing the side of your neck. Tongue wetting the skin before sinking his teeth into you. You groaned as your body fell back into his, hand coming up to tangle in his hair. Nails scraping his scalp.

“I want you to remember this forever,” Mr. Reed’s voice was deeper than before. Sucking a sharp bruise into your neck. Kissing it delicately afterward. One hand ran up your body, resting against your breast. Squeezing the lump overtop the bra. Your head fell back into his shoulder. Whining when his fingers pinched at your hardening nipple.

Releasing you for a moment so that he could pull your shirt over your head. Throwing it towards the doorway. Meticulous fingers fidgeting with the clasp of your bra. Sliding the straps down your arms. Leaving you completely nude before him. Every inch of you on clear display, shadowed in the dim candlelight.

“My angel,” Mr. Reed whispered as his hands roamed every inch of your body. Grasping at every bit of skin, wanting to learn the scars and bruises and bumps and blemishes and everything that he normally could not see. You belonged to him. His to dissect.

Pulling your body flush to his. Firm erection pressed into your lower back. Arching so that your ass was rubbing against it. He groaned into your ear, fingertips digging into your skin. One hand venturing back up to cup your now bare chest. Pinching and rolling one of your nipples between his fingers. Pecking open mouthed kisses to your cheek and jawline with each twist of the bulb.

Your hand reached around to palm him through his loosely opened pants. Fabric still between you. He grunted and groaned, swearing you could hear a whimper mixed in.

“Spread out on the bed for me,” Mr. Reed commanded.

Excitement rushed through you. Crawling onto the soft mattress. Making sure you arched so he had the perfect view of your ass before reaching the pillows. Your head sunk into them, legs separated and hands folded neatly against your lower abdomen. Sitting up just enough to still be looking at him, but in the perfect position for him to bend and move you however he pleased.

Mr. Reed stood at the foot of the bed. Slowly removing the button down he wore, revealing a white t-shirt underneath. Shedding his trousers down. The sight one you had already known, yet it still ilicited a sensation between your legs. His stout figure was exquisite. Arms more muscular than you imagined. Belly soft, yet strong. You imagined he must do a lot of heavy lifting. Based off the garden in his backyard.

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth. Pushing your knees together to try and relieve any amount of feeling that pooled down your already sensitive slit. Sitting up slightly when you saw him hook his thumbs around the band of his underwear. Slowly, tugging the white fabric down his legs. Cock springing to life. Curving toward his stomach. Unable to make out the finer details in the dark.

Your mouth was watering. Jaw dropping as your brows contorted in anticipation. His knee pressed into the mattress. Dipping down with his weight. He crawled up, arms caging in your body. Matured body hovering above yours. His nose at the tip of yours. Leaning down to kiss you. Tongue parting your lips and lapping into your mouth. Glazing along your teeth.

His pupils were enlarged. Inquisitively drinking in the look on your face. Your hands cupped his face, thumbs rubbing circles into his cheeks as you deepened the kiss.

It was almost romantic. Shared nudity in such a moodlit room. No other sound but the soft moans and exhales from you both. Preparing for your bodies to become one.

Mr. Reed reached down and framed the base of his cock. Lining himself up with your entrance. Pushing the tip against your core causing you to exhale shakily. Agonizingly slow, he sheathed himself inside you. Your eyes squinted shut as you moaned, hands grasping at his bare back. Nails scratching into the tender flesh, surely to puff up in a few moments.

He stilled. Leaving your hips flush together. His mouth gaped as he tried to fill his lungs with air. Blinking as he heaved. “Plato’s ‘the Symposium’ suggests that all humans were originally whole. Later being divided into two parts, which is what led to our trivial search for our ‘missing half’. My dear, I believe Plato was right. And we have become whole once more,” Mr. Reed breathlessly confessed.

Cock twitching inside you with his words. You nodded, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Insides still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Walls tightly spasming when he began to thrust in and out of you. Crying out in pleasure when his tip would graze the spongy spot inside you. Losing any cognitive function. He was all you needed.

“Y/N,” there was a chuckle behind his tone, “I need you to tell me how it is. Tell me everything you’re experiencing.”

You were delirious. Eyes struggling to stay open as you tried to focus your vision on him. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

His hand gripped your cheeks firmly, forcing you to look directly at him, “Come on, Y/N. Talk to me.”

You exhaled. Finally able to blink yourself back to reality. You moaned, “I feel— good… fuck, your cock… it’s stretching me perfectly. Mr. Reed, you’re everything to me. I will never need more.”

Mr. Reed exhaled with a hint of shock. Smiling as he pistoned harder into you. Chasing his own high. Such a young, beautiful girl. Dedicating herself to him.

“I want to feel you cum inside me,” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. Forcing yourself to meet each thrust causing him to penetrate deeper than before. Sound of your skin smacking together echoed against the dark walls.

Mr. Reed’s breath came out broken. Hitching higher than any other noise he had released. Jaw hanging open as he looked into your eyes. Unable to resist kissing you. Moaning and grunting morphing together.

His hips rutted. Groin pressed flush with yours. Feeling of his cock twitching inside you clued you in. Hot ropes of cum decorated your insides. A load larger than he had ever came before. Completely full of his seed.

One of his hand caressed your cheek. Gentle and romantic. Mr. Reed was panting above you, sweat glistening along his brow. Your eyes fell shut as you leaned back into the pillows. Mouth agape as you tried to catch your breath.

You kissed him. Slow and intimate. Fighting off the urge to thank him repetitively for showing you a taste of heaven.

“Aphrodite herself must have blessed you,” Mr. Reed muttered, “Never has there been a woman as divine as you.”

Your face flushed. Beautiful words washing over your body. Never had you been complimented so eloquently. Someone praising you as if you were the newest, hottest religion.

There was a click.

His bedside lamp now illuminated the room. Harsh comparison to the candle flame. You squinted, hand coming up to shade your eyes. Sucking your teeth to fake pain.

Mr. Reed laughed, “Ah. We have left the dark ages once more.”

You relaxed your body, glaring over at the lightbulb. Ruining the moment you were having. Intimacy fizzling out with the return of electricity.

You sighed, “Guess that means I should get out of your hair…”

Defeat clear on your tone. You smiled up at him, beginning to shift under his body. Cheeks hot and hands shaking.

“I would love for you to stay,” Mr. Reed interrupted.

Your eyes widened up at him. Heart flourishing with emotion for him. You were no nuisance to him, but a being which he wanted to cherish and learn more about.

“You know I don’t wish to impose—“

“Hush. I’ll make us some dinner.”

~~~

[END]

// Thank you for reading!! This was an extremely fun story to write and I feel like I could have kept going with all the religious imagery and allegories, but then it would have taken forever to get to the fun stuff ;) As always, my inbox is open! If you want to be tagged in any of my future Fics, shoot me a message! Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated! //

{tags}

The house phone rings out, shrill and I pick it up "Hello?"

"Hello, (y/n). When's hubby due home?" Daniel, my husband Mark's best friend.

"Daniel, hi. Mark said he'd be back closer to 6pm. Do you two have plans tonight?"

"I'll be there in 10. Wear something appealing."

"Its only two, why would you-" click.

Asshole.

I hang up and a little over ten minutes later the doorbell rings. I open it to a smiling, if fatigued, Daniel Cleaver. He's flushed, breathing hard as he runs a hand through his hair. Today he's wearing a linen button down and jeans under his coat and if I wasn't constantly on the verge of wanting to kill him, I'd say he looks good. Great, even.

"Did you run here?"

"Did I run here? Will there ever be peace in the middle east? Are you wearing panties? These are all very difficult questions, (y/n), I propose we start with the panties and work backwards," he wheezes

"Watch it-" I warn

"You're right, I'm awful, we should talk it out over drinks,"

I roll my eyes and he nods into the foyer, pushing past me.

"Oh, won't you come in." I plead flatly.

I step aside, closing the door to follow behind as he saunters into the kitchen, plucks a beer from the fridge and discards his coat over the counter. His eyes leer over me as he takes a swig of his drink.

"Does Mark know you traipse around the house in these skimpy little dresses while he's at work?"

"It's Prada, for your information and it is not skimpy..." I tug the hem of the mini dress as low as I'm able to, but it refuses to support my assertion and I feel myself redden some.

He smiles devilishly and turns away for a moment, teeth catching his lower lip as he does. "Right," he scoffs, amused at my expense.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this midday home invasion, Mr. Cleaver?"

"Two-thirty is hardly the middle of the day, (y/n), middle of the afternoon maybe, but-"

"The point. Reach it."

"You don't remember the model number of the speaker set you gave Mark last year for Christmas off-hand, do you? I've been looking for something similar for my flat, they're sold out everywhere, and I've never heard more crisp audio in my life than I have through those speakers."

"Oh, erm... I don't remember it off-hand, actually, we did just move them to the bedroom from the living room, I'll show you where they are. Do you have a pad and pen?"

"Always, lead the way."

I show him upstairs to the bedroom and lean against the doorframe, pointing out the speaker set just across from mine and Mark's bed.

"Just there, check whatever you need."

"Excellent, you're a peach, thank you."

"Anytime."

I watch Daniel investigate the speakers, turning a couple over and writing down some numbers in his moleskine. He then shuffles through the adjacent CD collection a bit before looking over to me.

"What's your poison?"

"I'd rather not."

"Come on (y/n), have some fun, god knows that's gone out the window here now that you and Mark are married." He quips, continuing his search.

"Here, Carly Simon : 'No Secrets', we love a bit of Carly, dont we?" He winks and I can't help but giggle.

He sets the CD into the player and selects a track, pressing the play button. The muted bass intro of  'Youre So Vain' fills the room and Daniel is... it wouldn't be fair to call it dancing but he is definitely... moving to the beat, and -shock horror- extending a hand to me.

'and all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner and-' 

I let out a loud laugh as I take his hand and we are twirling, twisting, dancing... having fun. 

He's not the worst dancer in the world and I nearly cackle as he dips me, brings me up, spins me out and back into his arms, and this is nice, actually.

We sway and maybe I've judged him a bit too harshly... he is best friends with Mark after all, how bad could the man be, really?

"Y'know, Mick Jagger subbed in backing vocals on this one..." he speaks into the crook of my neck, low and soothing, his breath warm.

"Did he?" It becomes apparent to me that yes, yes he did. Interesting.

"Mm. It's funny, the song could very easily be about him..."

"I suppose it could be, huh..."

'I had some dreams, there were clouds in my coffe, clouds in my coffee and...'

As we sway, Daniel's body molds to mine, hands finding my hips. I let my eyes close, my hands resting over his. We fit together like puzzle pieces as our fingers interlace and this is nice. It's never like this with Mark.

Daniel's lips ghost the side of my neck and a shiver runs down my spine "Daniel, don't..." I turn around, my eyes meeting his in shock.

"(y/n), darling, relax. We're only dancing. I know for a fact, Mark barely even uses these speakers. Why not let me appreciate what he so clearly doesn't?" he closes the short distance Ive left bewteen us, eyes trailing over me, drinking in my face, my figure. "What he couldn't...possibly..." his eyes capture mine and he leans down, bringing a hand up to stroke my cheek. I don't move. I can barely breathe.

'and when you're not you're with, some underworld spy or-'

Daniel's lips lock to mine and the world goes quiet. Our tongues explore eachother's mouths and he moans and before I realize it I'm unbuttoning his shirt.

Daniel places a hand over mine. "(y/n). wait, wait." A look of genuine concern colors his features as he looks down at me, speaking softly "I just... I want you to know that I like you. Love you, really. Every day I kick myself for not objecting to your vows with Mark. You've completely captivated me since our first meeting. You occupy my mind, always... not just when I'm in the shower. So this... you, wanting me too... it...means something to me." His eyes search mine for understanding and it's there.

I take a deep, shaky breath. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"What could I have said? 'No, Darcy, please don't marry her, I love her more than you do' ??"

His tongue traces his lower lip as his eyes flick to my mouth, and he starts to lean in again.

We shouldn't. This is wrong. I'm married to his best friend. He's an awful person. A total prat. A prat who tastes like cigarettes and Diet Coke. A prat whose hands feel incredible on my ass. A prat, who is currently...unzipping my dress... and whose charm I am utterly defenseless to. 

The dress in question falls to the ground in a heap and I'm stood before him in just my bra and panties. As Daniel looks me over, a low moan escapes him and he gasps.

"Ohh, how I've dreamed of this moment. You are...perfect, (y/n), just...ravishing..." his arms wrap around me again and he nibbles my neck while unhooking my bra, tossing it haphazardly aside.

He drags the freshly dampened panties down my legs and helps me out of them, eyes holding mine as he does. But his clothes are still on.

"Bit unfair, isn't it?" I question.

"Looking to level the playing field?" A grin. Daniel reaches a hand back, closing the bedroom door with a click.

I bite my lip, reaching out to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt and push it off his shoulders.

His arms are well-muscled, his chest taut and stomach defined. I start to undo his belt, then his trousers, dropping to my knees before him as I do.

I can tell just from the outline of it he is thick and my mouth drops open as I watch his dick strain against the fabric of his black boxer-briefs.

My fingers hook into the sides of the waistband and he takes in a sharp breath as I pull them down his legs, cock eagerly bouncing forth to greet me.

Daniel tilts my chin up so I'm looking up at him again. "Can I ask a favor of you?"  He smirks down at me.

"Yes, Mr. Cleaver?" my best bambi eyes.

"Open your mouth, Mrs. Darcy."

I open wide for him, tongue out, and Daniel laces his fingers into my hair, slowly guiding my head as far down onto his length as possible, in and out, gradually speeding up to a regular pace. I gag when he hits the back of my throat and blink away tears as he continues to roughly fuck my mouth.

"Ohhh, Mrs. Darcy, your tongue feels fucking exquisite... there you go, that's a good girl... take. It. All..." he dips into the back of my throat a few times in a row and when I  gag again, he groans, gasping sharply. His hand is still enmeshed in my hair and he reminds me of it by jerking my head backwards, cock exiting my mouth with a pronounced pop.

Daniel strokes my cheek, taking in the sight of me on my knees, heaving, lips swollen, body buzzing.

"Mm. I think I'm going to have to fuck you now, (y/n). Too gorgeous not to, I'm afraid. Lay back for me, yeah?"

I rest back on the carpet and he follows me down, nipping and kissing down my neck, hands traveling over the contours of my body as he does.

He takes his cock in hand, stroking it a few times as he looks my face over.

"Are you ready for me?" I nod and he smirks, parting my legs. He glides the tip along my vulva, teasing, and lets out a satisfied hum at the slickness of it.

Daniel aligns himself with my entrance and hastily slips his cock inside of me. He is... much larger than I realized and I gasp at the sudden fullness as he begins to steadily roll his hips down into mine.

"Fuck me, that's tight, have you been fucked recently, (y/n)?"

My face is hot, all I can offer is a choked whimper and he smirks down at me.

"That's a no, then. Ah, don't worry pet. Daddy's here and he's going to take very good care of you..."

he murmurs into my neck, pace picking up.

He feels remarkable but it's so much and "D-Daniel?"

"Mm?" He keeps rocking into me,

"I- mmmh, it's- you're just- it's really big, and-" I gasp as his tip hits my cervix.

"Oh? Are you not used to something like this?" He taunts, grinning.

"Bit much for you then?" He gives another forceful buck into me and I moan.

"(y/n), we can stop whenever you like, you just. say. the word..." he pounds into me hard, one hand pinning my hip in place as I wrap my legs around him. " No Daniel, don't stop, please don't stop!" I whine.

"Mm. See, that's what I thought you might say... sound so fucking pretty when you beg for it like that, too..." he keeps railing into me and I gasp, feeling my body start to coil.

"(y/n) I'm going to pull out now, and you're going to turn over for me, yeah?" I nod.

"Good girl."

He pulls out of me and I do turn over for him, arching my hips up and looking back at him.

Daniel runs his hands over my ass, giving it a firm squeeze before guiding himself back into me.

It's easier to take this time, though still a little overwhelming. He pushes into me carefully, slowly, holding my hips steady, and as he fills me out I realize I spoke too soon.

He starts bucking into me again, his strokes commanding as our bodies clap against eachother. "Oh my Gohdd," I groan, tensing around him.

One of Daniel's hands snakes around my hip and his fingers toy with my clit expertly as he continues ramming into me. His other hand grasps a fistful of my hair, yanking back ruthlessly and my entire body is rigid with need as I clench around his cock once, twice.

"You are just... magnificent, (y/n), so wet, so fucking tight, christ, are you about to come?" He slows his thrusts some and I whimper at the change of pace.

"I said, are you gonna come for me?"

"Yesssss, please" I breathe, desperate.

"Please what?" He slows down to a glacial pace, still playing with my clit, torturous, and does he actually expect me to say it? No. There's no way.

"Please what. (y/n)?" Oh my god. He wants me to call him-

"Daddy! Please Daddy, let me come, I need it,"

"There you go, wasn't so hard, was it?" He speeds up again, pistoning into me rapidly, his grip on my hair tightening. "Tell me something (y/n), has Mark fucking Darcy ever made you feel this good? Ever made you crave it the way you do right now?"

"No, never!!" The words leave me before I'm aware I've said them and I wish it wasn't true.

"Who makes you feel like this?"

"You!! Only you, Daniel!!" I whine.

"That's right, now are you going to be a good girl and come for Daddy? I can feel you fucking twitching, (y/n), just. Let. Go."

Orgasm hits like a train and within seconds I'm a mess of pathetic, whimpering contractions beneath him, completely undone.

Daniel slows, letting me ride out the final waves of my climax, hand finally releasing its grip on my hair.

The familiar creak of the bedroom door handle cuts through our shared panting and the dulcet tones of the Carly Simon CD. Mark. No. No. Nonononono, SHIT.

My body goes slack beneath Daniel's and I look back in mortified terror.

Mark stands in the doorway, fuming.

"What the absolute fuck is going on here?"

A beat.

Daniel clears his throat "Oh. Erm. Hah. Mister. Darcy...you're home... earlier than anticipated. This is... awkward." he manages, sheepish.

Mark's eyes widen at the scene before him and I watch his face crumple momentarily as the information sets in.

Me. Ass up for Daniel Cleaver. On the floor of our bedroom. In our home. In the middle of the day. To Carly Simon. Mark exhales through his nose and he's bright red.

"Cleaver. May I speak to you outside for a moment?"

"Outside your wife or outside of the room?"

"You know what the bloody fuck I meant, now get the fuck off of my fucking floor!" He hisses, seething as he steps politely into the hallway.

"Right. Both then." Daniel mumbles into my neck, withdrawing from me and yanking on his clothes to follow Mark downstairs.

My body is hot lead and my head is hazy as I listen to the frantic yelling downstairs, something is thrown, -glass- it breaks, and finally, the front door slams shut. I hear Mark's footsteps bounding heavily up the stairs and I am well and truly fucked. In all manner of ways.

But all I can think about... is Daniel...