rip

Neglect might be a strong word. He’s not doing it on purpose, not really. Just that he likes to get things over and done with so it doesn’t nag him from the back of his head. But it does mean that he holes himself up in the study, shuffling through thick stacks of paper and scribbling info into thousands of boxes. For hours on end. While you fiddle with your phone on an empty and cold bed, eyes glued onto the time and watching it change so goddamn slowly.

It finally turns into nine oh one, and you’re fucking done. Shrugging out of the nightgown, you scour the wardrobe for his shirts, one of the button-ups that cover half your thighs and reach well-past your fingertips. A couple of buttons off the top so that he can see the start of your cleavage. Then, after a second of contemplation in front of the mirror, you slide off your panties and chuck them into the laundry bin. For extra insurance the plan works.

“Rick?” He’s hunched over a file with only the lamplight on. You’ve told him off about how that would ruin his vision but he still does it, claiming it’s more comfortable. You shut the door behind you, silently making your way to his side even though he doesn’t raise his head.

“Nearly done. Just wait a bit, sweetheart.” The low rumble of his voice makes you tingle, the electric feeling shooting to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“That’s what you said an hour ago…” Hints of petulance tinge your words, trying to subtly guilt him into compliance. The scratching of the pen stops momentarily, making your heart soar, but then start right back up again. Your fingers tighten around his shirt sleeve. “Fine. But I’m going to stay right here and you can’t say shit.”

“Sweetheart—” You clamber onto his lap, ignoring the hitch in his breathing as he finally notices what you’re wearing, and plant yourself firmly on one of his thighs. Even wiggle your hips a bit to drive in the message that you’re staying there until he moves. “Fuck, what are you wearing—” You kiss to silence him, arms coiling around his neck and knees digging into the chair.

“Well, you were off for so long, and I got so lonely. Your clothes smell like you so I always sleep in them. And since you weren’t coming to bed…” He releases a groan at your overtly sultry voice and kisses you back, nipping at your lips and tongue trying to slip into your mouth. But you close it shut and lean back, eyelashes fluttering in faux innocence. His face crinkles in confusion, eyebrows tensing together, and it takes all you have to not laugh, lest you give away your plan. “I understand, your work is important and you need to finish this. I’ll just wait here and we can go to sleep when you’re done, right?” The added head tilt makes him close his mouth and nod stiffly, a hand placed on the small of your back to keep you in place. Maybe not the best choice for him because at this proximity you can smell his cologne, woody and familiar, and the scent never fails to make you horny. You can feel your slick pooling into the spot on his pants, leaving a damp patch where your sex directly meets his thigh.

You place your head on the crook of his neck, humming a tune and playing with strands of his hair. He stays still for a while, making sure that you’re not up to anything, then starts writing again. Without pause. You peek a glance back and see him reaching for more paper from a stack, shifting his position slightly to work around you.

You ground your hips down to his leg, rubbing the lips of your pussy on the fabric of his pants with the slightest moan peeking out of your mouth at how good it feels after so fucking long. His thigh is so thick and firm from all the hours of training, feels so good against your aching core. Rick freezes instantly, the hand on the small of your back clenching the shirt now, making the tails of it ride up to expose your bare sex. He takes one look at it and plants his forehead on yours, curses flinging out.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to distract you… I’ll behave.” A glare of fuck, what are you doing to me is shot your way which you reflect with a sweet smile, playing with the buttons on his collar. Picking them open and baring the tanned skin underneath, clean of marks because it’s been weeks. “C’mon, you said ‘nearly done’. I wanna go to sleep with you.” You finish off with a light peck on his lips and a nod towards the pile of work, encouraging him to get to it. There’s a slight tremble in his hand, like he’s just barely restraining himself. He’s so easy, so pliant underneath you.

You latch onto the skin of his neck as soon as he starts again, sucking marks of red and orange onto the skin and slide up his leg, leaving a trail of your arousal in its wake. His hand moves to clamp down on your ass, locking you into place so that you can’t reach his hips, his cock that’s stirring to life. His growl of stop is drowned under your groans as you rut against him, your clit catching onto the cloth and the friction inching you towards your climax. You can feel it bubbling under your skin, the warm and itchy sensation reaching out everywhere, just one more rub and you’ll finally get what you want.

You’re hoisted into the air, your high ripped away from your grasp, and your ass connects with the desk, right on top of Rick’s work. He’s looming over you when you look up, face hidden in the shadows with chest heaving up and down, one hand gripping your waist and the other holding a broken pen. He slants his still-clothed hips into yours without a word, soaking the front of his pants and making you gasp.

He’s hard when you take him out, thick with precum oozing from the tip, dripping down his length and onto your clit. A shiver runs up your back. You try to hold his hand but he slams your upper body down to the desk, spine connecting with the wood, sending everything clattering to the floor, and sheathes himself inside you with one stroke. Your squeals and cries go ignored as he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder to drive in further, to make sure that every single inch of him is pulling you apart. The head of his cock catches every sensitive spot that he knows from countless practices, making you mewl and writhe within his grasp.

“God, baby, did you get tighter while I was gone?”

There’s nothing in the room except the wet slaps of your bodies connecting over and over, your moans that spill out between kisses. Your fingers can barely find purchase on his shoulder at how roughly he’s thrusting into you and hitting all the correct spots, just flailing around uselessly and jelly-like. Electricity sparks across your skin as the shirt rips apart and your nipples brush against his chest, hardening with each contact. He rubs on the nub of your clit, pinching the bundle of nerves and making your toes curl and insides contract. It just makes you feel him that much more, every snap of his hips digging in deeper and taking up extra space that you can barely give. Finally, you pulse around him, keening into his mouth through the blank whiteness of your orgasm because the scraping of his blunt nails against your clit along with his cock that’s making a new home inside of you is too fucking much.

He pulls himself out just in time, the splatters of his seeds hitting the desk and papers crumpled underneath your thighs. Uneven gasps take over the room, the both of you coming down from your highs and back into your bodies. He notices the ink smudging his writing away while you’re blinking the spots away, trying to hear something other than just your heartbeat. Globs of cum decorate your hips, sliding down and staining the desk. You catch a strip of it with your finger, pooling it together until it drips down and into your awaiting mouth.

Neglect might be a strong word. He’s not doing it on purpose, not really. Just that he likes to get things over and done with so it doesn’t nag him from the back of his head. But it does mean that he holes himself up in the study, shuffling through thick stacks of paper and scribbling info into thousands of boxes. For hours on end. While you fiddle with your phone on an empty and cold bed, eyes glued onto the time and watching it change so goddamn slowly.

It finally turns into nine oh one, and you’re fucking done. Shrugging out of the nightgown, you scour the wardrobe for his shirts, one of the button-ups that cover half your thighs and reach well-past your fingertips. A couple of buttons off the top so that he can see the start of your cleavage. Then, after a second of contemplation in front of the mirror, you slide off your panties and chuck them into the laundry bin. For extra insurance the plan works.

“Rick?” He’s hunched over a file with only the lamplight on. You’ve told him off about how that would ruin his vision but he still does it, claiming it’s more comfortable. You shut the door behind you, silently making your way to his side even though he doesn’t raise his head.

“Nearly done. Just wait a bit, sweetheart.” The low rumble of his voice makes you tingle, the electric feeling shooting to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“That’s what you said an hour ago…” Hints of petulance tinge your words, trying to subtly guilt him into compliance. The scratching of the pen stops momentarily, making your heart soar, but then start right back up again. Your fingers tighten around his shirt sleeve. “Fine. But I’m going to stay right here and you can’t say shit.”

“Sweetheart—” You clamber onto his lap, ignoring the hitch in his breathing as he finally notices what you’re wearing, and plant yourself firmly on one of his thighs. Even wiggle your hips a bit to drive in the message that you’re staying there until he moves. “Fuck, what are you wearing—” You kiss to silence him, arms coiling around his neck and knees digging into the chair.

“Well, you were off for so long, and I got so lonely. Your clothes smell like you so I always sleep in them. And since you weren’t coming to bed…” He releases a groan at your overtly sultry voice and kisses you back, nipping at your lips and tongue trying to slip into your mouth. But you close it shut and lean back, eyelashes fluttering in faux innocence. His face crinkles in confusion, eyebrows tensing together, and it takes all you have to not laugh, lest you give away your plan. “I understand, your work is important and you need to finish this. I’ll just wait here and we can go to sleep when you’re done, right?” The added head tilt makes him close his mouth and nod stiffly, a hand placed on the small of your back to keep you in place. Maybe not the best choice for him because at this proximity you can smell his cologne, woody and familiar, and the scent never fails to make you horny. You can feel your slick pooling into the spot on his pants, leaving a damp patch where your sex directly meets his thigh.

You place your head on the crook of his neck, humming a tune and playing with strands of his hair. He stays still for a while, making sure that you’re not up to anything, then starts writing again. Without pause. You peek a glance back and see him reaching for more paper from a stack, shifting his position slightly to work around you.

You ground your hips down to his leg, rubbing the lips of your pussy on the fabric of his pants with the slightest moan peeking out of your mouth at how good it feels after so fucking long. His thigh is so thick and firm from all the hours of training, feels so good against your aching core. Rick freezes instantly, the hand on the small of your back clenching the shirt now, making the tails of it ride up to expose your bare sex. He takes one look at it and plants his forehead on yours, curses flinging out.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to distract you… I’ll behave.” A glare of fuck, what are you doing to me is shot your way which you reflect with a sweet smile, playing with the buttons on his collar. Picking them open and baring the tanned skin underneath, clean of marks because it’s been weeks. “C’mon, you said ‘nearly done’. I wanna go to sleep with you.” You finish off with a light peck on his lips and a nod towards the pile of work, encouraging him to get to it. There’s a slight tremble in his hand, like he’s just barely restraining himself. He’s so easy, so pliant underneath you.

You latch onto the skin of his neck as soon as he starts again, sucking marks of red and orange onto the skin and slide up his leg, leaving a trail of your arousal in its wake. His hand moves to clamp down on your ass, locking you into place so that you can’t reach his hips, his cock that’s stirring to life. His growl of stop is drowned under your groans as you rut against him, your clit catching onto the cloth and the friction inching you towards your climax. You can feel it bubbling under your skin, the warm and itchy sensation reaching out everywhere, just one more rub and you’ll finally get what you want.

You’re hoisted into the air, your high ripped away from your grasp, and your ass connects with the desk, right on top of Rick’s work. He’s looming over you when you look up, face hidden in the shadows with chest heaving up and down, one hand gripping your waist and the other holding a broken pen. He slants his still-clothed hips into yours without a word, soaking the front of his pants and making you gasp.

He’s hard when you take him out, thick with precum oozing from the tip, dripping down his length and onto your clit. A shiver runs up your back. You try to hold his hand but he slams your upper body down to the desk, spine connecting with the wood, sending everything clattering to the floor, and sheathes himself inside you with one stroke. Your squeals and cries go ignored as he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder to drive in further, to make sure that every single inch of him is pulling you apart. The head of his cock catches every sensitive spot that he knows from countless practices, making you mewl and writhe within his grasp.

“God, baby, did you get tighter while I was gone?”

There’s nothing in the room except the wet slaps of your bodies connecting over and over, your moans that spill out between kisses. Your fingers can barely find purchase on his shoulder at how roughly he’s thrusting into you and hitting all the correct spots, just flailing around uselessly and jelly-like. Electricity sparks across your skin as the shirt rips apart and your nipples brush against his chest, hardening with each contact. He rubs on the nub of your clit, pinching the bundle of nerves and making your toes curl and insides contract. It just makes you feel him that much more, every snap of his hips digging in deeper and taking up extra space that you can barely give. Finally, you pulse around him, keening into his mouth through the blank whiteness of your orgasm because the scraping of his blunt nails against your clit along with his cock that’s making a new home inside of you is too fucking much.

He pulls himself out just in time, the splatters of his seeds hitting the desk and papers crumpled underneath your thighs. Uneven gasps take over the room, the both of you coming down from your highs and back into your bodies. He notices the ink smudging his writing away while you’re blinking the spots away, trying to hear something other than just your heartbeat. Globs of cum decorate your hips, sliding down and staining the desk. You catch a strip of it with your finger, pooling it together until it drips down and into your awaiting mouth.