springlockscars

In public, Steve’s mannerisms, his facial expressions, were a well-rehearsed performance. Not a single person would be able to see the crime scene he cleaned up a week ago through the crease in his eyebrows, or the screams of a victim he still heard ringing in his ears in the way he sipped bitter coffee from a chipped mug; they simply were not there.

No, Steve Raglan was an ordinary guy. A little peculiar perhaps. Sometimes he tried a little too hard to be funny, and that affinity he seems to have for rabbit themed memorabilia could be classed as odd to some. Aside from that, Career Councillor Steve Raglan acted no differently to any other employee in the office.

In private, however, the comfort of his own home or even the privacy the closed door of his office provides, William Afton wore his thoughts externally like he wore the sleeves of his shirt. William would chew on the plastic end of a pen while pouring over a client’s file; agonising over how he was supposed to find suitable employment for a 37-year-old with only a high-school education, a criminal record and a 9-year unexplained gap in his employment history.

He would light up a cigarette or two, rolling the paper filter between his lips, biting it carefully with his teeth while sketching concept blueprints for a new animatronic design, trying to seamlessly integrate a dispenser for a knockout gas that wouldn’t be overtly noticeable.

William would bite his nails and chew his lips when you were out late and not responding to his calls or texts, crashing those worried lips to yours as soon as you’d come through the door. “My phone died and I had to stay late, you don’t have to worry I’m safe.” “All manner of dangerous people are out there,” he sighed your name, “can you use a coworker’s phone to call me if it happens next time? I hate to be sitting on the edge of my seat wondering if someone is hurting my girl.”

It was now that William was deep in thought, a half burned out cigarette resting in between his lips. He was tweaking some finer details on an endoskeleton hand, wanting it to have more precise movements, he had said before heading into his garage workshop. That was over five hours ago and the dinner you decided to make him was almost ready.

You watched him from the doorway. The ashtray showing he was on at least his third cigarette; he was stressed. Stepping over boxes and piles of scrap metal, you made your way over to him, resting a palm flat against his back.

“You’re tense,” you said quietly, smoothing your hand over the expanse of his rigid back.

William leaned into your touch but didn’t stop working. You took the chance to gently work out some of the knots in his muscles while he manipulated the metal on the bench, the cigarette still in between his lips. Watching as he moved it between his teeth from the left to the right side of his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and inhaling deeply.

You moved from behind him to lean on the edge of the desk, facing him now. Mentally crossing your fingers in the hopes he wouldn’t snap at you, you take the cigarette from his mouth, immediately drawing his attention. You raise your eyebrows teasingly, bringing the mauled butt to your own lips to take a drag.

“Dinners almost ready,” you exhale the smoke over your shoulder away from him.

A smirk on his lips, “What time is it?” he asks, placing his tools down and finally sitting up straight to stretch out his aching back muscles, twisting his neck side to side. He takes the endoskeleton hand from the desk and places it gently in a box, moving it to a shelf out of the way for now.

“11:41pm, according to the clock in here,” you inhale one more time, feeling the buzz in your head, before passing it back to William who takes the almost finished cigarette graciously. He seems way more interested in it now that it’s been between your lips.

He leans back in his chair, removing his glasses to rub his fatigued eyes then tossing them on the desk. He places the cigarette back between his lips to take a deep, satisfying drag, then stubs it out in the ashtray next to the rest. William exhales, smoke briefly clouding your vision as he reaches for your hips and pulls you down onto his lap, holding you tightly in his calloused hands. One holding your waist, the other gripping your thigh.

William nuzzles into the curve of your neck, nose and scratchy facial hair tickling your sensitive skin. He smiles when he can feel your heartbeat against his lips. He places a kiss, then two. Tracing the tip of his tongue from collarbone to ear, pressing a kiss in the space behind your ear and sweeping your hair back out of the way. You live for these moments. The way he dotes on you and worships every inch of you like a piece of fine art.

“I’m sorry I was distracted in here. Have I been neglecting my girl?” William nips the lobe of your ear with his teeth, before kissing a path down the juncture of your neck again.

“Could tell you were stressed,” your breathing heavy, “you need a break.”

“Hmm,” he responds against your skin.

He kisses firmer, harder, more intensely until he’s sucking a bruise into the delicate skin. The way you feel against him, the way you taste on his tongue. More, is all he can think, closer…

He swivels in his desk chair and guides you onto the hard wooden surface of his workbench, sweeping nuts and bolts, welded pieces of metal and wires out of the way. Some clattering to the ground, but he doesn’t care about that right now. William stands, his 6ft 4” frame towering over you as he leans down, gripping your waist with both hands, and connects his lips to yours.

You can’t help but moan obscenely into the kiss. The ferocity and desperation of his lips moulding against yours has you instinctively grinding your hips against his. Wiliam deepens the kiss, his hot tongue sliding over yours, exploring your mouth and bending you into submission. The kiss tastes like the tobacco you both shared, giving you the same pleasant buzz. He bites at your plush lower lip, pulling it with his teeth enough to make it to puff up and redden.

William leans back slightly to get a better look at you; your hair dishevelled, lips swollen and glistening, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“So beautiful,” he stoops back down, lips connecting to your jaw before nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck again enough to bruise, traveling down to the collar of your shirt.

William slides his skilled hands underneath the fabric, caressing the skin there up to where he can feel your bra. He pushes your shirt higher, up over your chest, off your shoulders and over your head, paying no mind to where it falls.

Immediately, his lips connect to the soft skin of your breast poking out of the top of your underwear. Biting and sucking hard, desperately needing to touch you, to mark you everywhere his lips will reach. His warm hands snake underneath your back to unclasp your bra. He pulls the elastic straps down your arms and discards the garment on the ground, bending further at the waist to bring a nipple into his mouth.

Your back arches into his touch, one hand gripping the back of his head by his hair, the other finding purchase on the workbench by your head to keep you steady. William sucks and bites down on your nipple, bringing it to a hard peak. He moves all around the soft flesh, nipping and leaving bruises. With no pens to chew on and the cigarettes discarded, your body was his distraction from his frustrations and worries right now. Not that this would be the first time.

William moves across your chest to give your other breast equal attention. He bites down on your nipple hard enough for you to gasp and tighten your grip on his hair. He glares up at you through hooded eyes, not angry, but amused.

Whilst caressing and kneading the flesh of your breasts, he moves lower down your body, nipping at your torso and abdomen, leaving a trail of little red marks as he goes. He teasingly kisses the skin just above the waistband of your trousers. Deciding to speed things up he hooks his fingers into the hem and pulls them swiftly down your legs, leaving you in only your panties on top of his work bench.

William smooths his thumbs over your hips where your underwear sits. Continuing his goal of kissing every inch of you, he presses his lips to your mound, moving lower and lower, until he’s kissing right over your clothed clit.

A rush of adrenaline courses through your body, arching once again into his touch. William, however, moves away from the area you need him most. He sits back down in his desk chair, giving him the perfect angle to place hot, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, marring the area shades of bright red and deep purple with his lips and tongue.

Once he deems your thighs suitably marked, he pushes your legs further apart for him to gain access to the area you both need him the most. William runs two fingers down your clothed slit, a grin forming when he sees your arousal seep through the fabric. He teases you like this; tracing over your clit with his fingers, pushing into your entrance as far as the fabric of your underwear will allow. Watching you squirm on his desk, begging for a release.

William finds himself becoming impatient, biting on the skin of his lips, he needs you in his mouth again like an addict craving a fix. He finally lowers his face back down to your core, running his lips across your clothed mound before, with no warning, biting down in the area he knows your clit will be. You scream and arch dramatically off the desk, a hand coming to grip his hair. He smirks up at you, eyes swimming with lust and feeling pride surge in his chest. Nobody else could make you feel like this. Nobody but him.

William flattens his tongue over your clit through your panties as you come down from the electric jolt of pleasure. His saliva soaking through the fabric to your skin underneath, mixing with your arousal. The material of your underwear becomes smooth under William’s tongue, clinging to every dip and curve of your cunt as his hands grip your thighs tight.

“Oh fuck, Will…” you whined.

He hums against you, sliding closer to the desk on the chair and hooking his thumbs under the crotch of your panties. The cool air making goosebumps spread all over your body as it hits your wet core. William holds the fabric to one side, granting him access to tease your pussy while you writhe and moan beneath him. Noticing your reaction to the cold air of the garage, he blows against your cunt, grinning when he hears pathetic whimpers slip past your lips, and he watches you clench around nothing.

He moves closer and takes the swollen flesh of your labia between his teeth, biting ever so slightly. Just enough to make you squirm and moan his name. William sucks the flesh into his mouth hard enough to leave yet another bruise to match the many others that are scattered all over your body. The rough sensation of his facial hair causing the heat to stir low in your abdomen.

Once a suitable mark has been formed, William shifts his attention slightly higher. Flicking his long tongue over your clit, finally making contact skin-to-skin. One of your thighs rested on his shoulder with his arm wrapped underneath, holding you securely at the hip, with his other arm laying on top of your hips, holding your panties to the side to give him direct and uninterrupted access.

“Oh my god!” your own hands come down to grasp at his, feeling that heat intensifying inside you.

William doesn’t stop for a second. He sucks expertly on your clit until you’re writhing against his face. He moves lower and plunges his long tongue deep inside your tight hole. Your grip on his hands tightens as you arch into his mouth. Your upper arms pressing your breasts together, feeling the tenderness on the skin from the assault he laid into them moments ago.

William loves the way you taste, and he resolves to lap up every last drop of your arousal like it was his final meal on death row. He licks a stripe the entire way up your cunt from entrance to clit, before wiggling his tongue back inside, rhythmically stroking your walls. His breath is hot between your legs.

A sweat breaks out over your skin, you pant desperately as William builds your climax, stroke by tantalizing stroke of his tongue. He grips your thighs hard in his hands, bruising handprints holding them in place on his shoulders as you try to grind down against his face.

He eats you out like a man starved; routinely thrusting his tongue deep inside, moving it to circle your clit, pressing flat and teasing with the tip, biting and sucking intensely on your clit and labia before moving back to fuck you with his tongue — all while his facial hair scratches you so delightfully, only adding to the stimulation.

The heat is intensifying. You can feel your muscles begin to tense, twitching uncontrollably against William’s face as your climax takes over your body.

“A-ah, fuck! Oh fuck, Will!” you cried out, chest heaving as you pant and gasp for air.

William strokes your thighs encouragingly, breaking away from your core for a moment.

“Let go for me, baby. Come for me, that’s it,” he dives back in, coaxing you higher and higher, his nose bumping your clit. He loves hearing you cry and squirm at the mercy of his control.

Everything tightens and tightens, reaching an apex until there’s nowhere left to climb, and then you finally snap. Screaming William’s name as your muscles spasm, jolting your entire body. Your thighs tremble at either side of his head. William grips you tight, rhythmically pulsing his tongue inside and helping you ride out your orgasm. Shocks radiate throughout your body, your abdomen twitching and tensing with every clench of your walls.

William finally pulls back, laying gentle kisses to your inner thighs and caressing over your hip bones with his thumbs affectionately.

“Good girl,” he soothes, “good girl, you did so well for me. So good.”

You lay there completely bare on his desk, eyes closed, breathing deep and feeling light headed as you come down from the intense high he gave you. A smile creeping onto your face and a warmth spreading in your chest at his words of praise.

William takes your thighs from his shoulders, stands, and rests your legs on his desk chair. He presses a brief kiss to your abdomen, then higher in the valley between your breasts, your neck, jaw, then finally pecking your lips before deepening the kiss and allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You just begin to run your hands through his hair when he leans back.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said.

You narrowed your eyebrows, confused as he stepped away.

“Give me one minute, I’m coming straight back.”

You hear him cross the room in wide strides, then the sound of his footsteps as he ascends the stairs in the house. Only moments later, his footsteps drum down the stairs and enter back into the garage.

William drapes something soft over your body; the blanket from your bed. He helps you sit up and pulls the blanket snug around you, then holds you steady as your legs tremble beneath you when you try to stand.

“Woah, easy. Sit here for a sec,” he guides you to his chair, easing you down into the worn seat.

“Thanks,” you sigh, “that was… intense.”

He leans against the desk facing you, the side of your legs pressed against his, “too much?”

“No! No, definitely not. It was good,” you feel warmth creep up your cheeks.

“Good,” William smiles. He swivels the chair and pulls you against him from where you’re sat, your head leaning against his stomach.

“Did it help?” you ask, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “you’re not biting your lip or lighting up another cigarette.”

He chuckles, “oh, it helped. Definitely way less stressed.”

“Good.”

William cups your face in his palm and leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“C’mon, we should go inside. It’s getting cold tonight,” he says, “and didn’t you say something about dinner?”

William begins to ascend the stairs just as you come out of the bathroom, wrapped in what is quite possibly the smallest towel in the house. Definitely not one of the large, luxurious bath-sheets your mother insisted on purchasing a few weeks ago. You were using one of the smaller towels he’d seen both you and his wife wrap your hair up with.

He’s looking now at the curve of your ass cheeks poking out from underneath the white towel. The shape of your thighs, soft skin, water droplets from your hair rolling down the expanse of your back, the curve of your bare shoulders to your neck. He imagines kissing you there, the way his beard would scratch against your skin. William becomes momentarily light-headed as his blood rushes south.

He quickly pulls his phone from his pocket and steps backwards back down to the foot of the stairs, expertly diverting his attention to his phone and acting completely engrossed in something on the small screen. He begins ascending the stairs again, dramatically clearing his throat as he does to catch your attention.

The sound of his presence on the stairs startles you, and you jog the small distance of the hallway to your room to get out of his way. You stand in the doorway, not going inside.

“Bathroom is free now! Sorry my shower took so long,” you said cheerfully, thinking your stepdad needed to use the bathroom.

William looks up to see you still stood there blatantly and shamelessly in that towel. With only the briefest of glances, the image of your cleavage shining, still damp from the shower, water rolling down into the valley between your breasts, is burned into his mind forever.

“I-ah,” he clears his throat, “t-thank you, honey.” William tries to avert his gaze downwards, only to be met with your long, smooth legs extending from the other end of the towel. The towel itself only barely covering your most intimate area between your legs.

William ducks into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. The steam from your shower still fills the room along with the scents of your shampoo and your body wash, which does nothing to help the headrush he’s feeling right now.

He scrambles to unfasten his trousers, shoving them out of the way before freeing his rock-hard cock from his underwear. He braces one hand on the sink, and desperately begins sliding his other fist up and down his length.

“Oh… fuck,” he moans from deep within his chest.

William pumps his cock hard and fast, eyes squeezed closed, conjuring up the image of you in his mind. You in that towel. He imagines holding you by the shoulders he moulds his lips to yours, how you’d melt so prettily under his touch. He would slide the towel from your body next, caressing your breasts and feeling the chills spread over your skin.

You’d moan into his mouth as he pulls your naked body to his — he squeezes his cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip — the skin of your back would feel soft under his touch. He’d reach lower, squeezing your butt cheeks in his large hands, manhandling them and spreading them apart, before his open palm moves swiftly through the air to connect with the supple skin. A sharp ‘slap!’ resounding through the steam filled air.

He imagines the little sounds you’d make; your high-pitched screams as he spanks you, how you’d moan against his lips, how you’d whine and beg for him to touch you.

William pictures himself running his hand slowly down the soft flesh of your abdomen. He’d rub the mound of your pussy, moving lower and lower, until his fingers meet your hot, wet core. He would circle his thick fingers around your clit, you’d grip onto him for balance while grinding down against his hand, chasing the stimulation only he can provide.

“Oh, daddy!” you’d cry.

William sheds his button-up shirt, his skin breaking out in a sweat. He fists his erection slower now, with a lighter touch.

His breath shudders from his lips as he pictures your small hands — both of them — wrapped around his girth. You’d stroke him so softly, the pre-come leaking from the tip and down the shaft acting as lubricant.

William thinks about your experience level. Had you ever given a hand job before? He hoped not. The idea of you being inexperienced and clueless made his cock twitch and throb in his hand. He wanted to be the one to guide you.

“A little harder, baby” William whispers to himself in the bathroom, the image of you behind his eyelids gripping his cock tighter, “oh! Yes… That’s it, just like that.”

The imaginary you pumps his length harder, — William feels it throbbing — he pictures you leaning down and running the very tip of your tongue against the tip of his cock, delicately lapping up the pre-come. You’d moan in enjoyment, licking all around his bulbous head, then further down his shaft. Placing kisses against the hot muscle.

“Ungh- That’s a good girl, take it in your mouth… Ah! Suck a little harder baby girl. Oh, oh fuck…” he pants.

You’d take his length in your mouth all the way down to the base, William thrusting into your hot mouth, feeling his climax building rapidly. Your hands braced on his thighs, delicious, wet sounds spilling from your throat. You’d whine and moan, lips stretched around his cock. His pace increasing, temperature of his body rising, he feels himself twitch at the image of you on your knees, breasts bouncing, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Deeper and deeper, faster and faster, until he stills in your mouth and comes hard. He empties his load in ropes, rutting into your mouth as you swallow everything-

William empties his load intensely all over his fist and the bathroom floor. His mouth agape, head thrown back and holding his breath, he fights with everything he has left to contain his cries. He ruts into his hand, still imagining it’s your mouth as he comes down from his high.

He sighs, completely spent. His skin covered in a layer of sweat.

William caressed your back, gently stroking the skin underneath your shirt up and down as you sit sideways on his lap with your head resting against his chest. A crystal glass of whiskey in his other hand resting on your own lap. In a similar way to how he was touching your skin, you were touching his. Tracing the unnatural markings that adorn his arm. Most of them, the deeper ones, vary in shades of pink. Some of the more superficial ones are a light white colour. Scars left behind by the remnants of a past life.

You had tried to gain more details one time, thinking perhaps that talking about the massive physical trauma his body had endured would help to somehow heal his mind, but William was completely unreceptive to the discussion. “Not today…” was his response with a heavy sigh, clearly irritated.

The scarring was evenly spread out across his entire body, stopping at his collar. Luckily, his button-up shirts hid the markings perfectly. Crescent moon shapes, near perfect circles, unnaturally straight lines, all in repeating patterns. Both arms a perfect mirror of each other, both sides of his body completely symmetrical. These scars were deep, the texture difference clear between them and the unmarred areas of skin.

“What’re you thinking about?” William mumbled, his voice deep and drowsy with the whiskey.

“You...” you said honestly, “thinking about how much I care about you.”

“Hmm,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and wrapped the arm that was stroking your back around your waist.

The radio at the edge of the room playing a classics station. A song you recognised but wouldn’t be able to name.

You relaxed into his arms, closing your eyes and letting your fingertips follow the patterns on his arm by memory. William was warm underneath you, the scarred skin smooth to touch. You felt him shift slightly, adjusting your position on his lap to hold you closer and nuzzling a stubbled cheek against the crown of your head. He hums comfortingly, showing no signs of discomfort at you touching this vulnerable part of him.

He breaks the embrace briefly to sip from his glass, before resting it back in your lap. You take the glass from his hand and take a small sip yourself. The sharpness of the alcohol smoothed by the mellow flavour. William smirks at you as he takes the glass back, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss.

“Mmm, tastes better from your lips,” he mused.

You twist around and drape an arm around his neck, allowing access for a deeper kiss. William nips your lower lip, which you part for him gladly as he presses his tongue firmly against yours.

Running your hand through his hair and scratching gently down the back of his neck with your nails, feeling the smooth texture of the scars there beneath your fingertips. It’s at this stimulation, William moans into your mouth. You mould your lips together one more time before pulling away and making eye contact.

“Does that feel good?” you smirk.

William’s eyes are glassy with lust and whiskey, darting between your lips and your eyes.

“Do you like it when I touch you here?” you trace your fingers around the side of his neck to the front, pressing gently against the scarring in the area.

William sighs, eyes drifting closed, tilting his head to the side to allow you easier access to his neck. His free hand grips your waist harder, and you feel his hips shifting underneath you again.

This turns him on…

You unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt, pulling the fabric out of the way to gain access to his chest. Tracing your fingers down the sharp lines and curved markings by his collarbones, his eyes can’t help but drift closed, sighing in content.

Wanting to experiment with just how much pleasure this kind of touch can provide him, you move to straddle his lap. Pressing your lips directly to the scared areas. Almost immediately you feel his hips rut up against you, chasing stimulation.

Delicately kissing the pink marks that adorn his chest, he takes a hold of your hips, cementing them against his own and grinding up against you desperately. Both of your hands are everywhere on his skin. You sit up straight once more; your lips meet his as you grind back against William’s bulge. He groans thick with need into your mouth, pressing his chest closer to your touch, effectively arching his back against you.

Needing more of him, you break the kiss to run your lips down his throat, then across his collar bones, down his chest. He whines when you slide off his lap to the ground, looking up at him from in front of his knees.

“I never thought you could make such sweet noises,” you smirk while running your hands against the fabric of his trousers.

His head bobs forward, drowsy with the liquor as he unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. You kneel before him, his legs parting to allow you access to the zipper of his slacks. He leans back, watching you through hooded eyes as he brings his glass back to his lips, swallowing down another mouthful of the amber liquid.

You pull the zipper down slowly, carefully, as though there were something underneath that might bite. Spreading the fabric out of the way, you palm his erection through the soft material of his yellow boxers. William groans deep inside his chest and tosses his head back in satisfaction. He lay slack before you, ready to receive the gift of your worship.

Before he could get too comfortable, you affectionately caress his lower legs all the way down to where his feet are planted firmly against the ground, still in his recently shined shoes. You undo the laces and slide the left shoe from his foot, then the right. Sitting back up to take hold of his trousers by the waistband. William, fully understanding your intentions with no words needing to be exchanged, raises his hips to allow you to slide the fabric out from underneath him and down his thighs—revealing the plethora of bright pink scars that match those on his upper body—until his lower half lays exposed. You haphazardly fold the trousers, placing them by his shoes before turning your attention to the bare skin in front of you.

You slide a palm up his calf, feeling the dips and bumps, the differences in smooth and rough texture. You press a kiss to the inside of his knee; his breathing gets heavier. Moving upwards, your lips trace a series of long, oval-shaped markings. All close together in proximity but perfectly equal distances apart, marring the entire circumference of his thigh. Gentle kisses, feather-light touches, you notice his fist clench out of the corner of your eye.

William groans and leans in closer to your touch; each graze of your fingertips, every brush of your lips against the sensitive skin of his scars sends signals straight to the growing bulge between his legs. Typically, William would become impatient at foreplay like this, opting to manhandle you into a fuckable position and take you rough and fast. But tonight, he was swimming in the pleasure you were giving him.

You move higher still, tracing the tip of your tongue across a long, band-like scar that wraps around his upper thigh. William’s hand rests on the back of your head. Glancing up you see his eyes closed, jaw slack, running his fingers through your hair. Right next to your face, his cock strains in his underwear.

Getting closer to the prize, you place a series of brief pecks along a deep, pink line, extending up his inner thigh. The skin is smooth against your sensitive your lips and is clearly a sensitive area itself with the way William’s fingers flex against your scalp, burying deeper into your hair.

Replacing your lips with your fingers on his thighs, finally, you decide to touch William where he desires it the most. Mouthing his cock through the fabric of his underwear, feeling it twitch against your mouth as he curses through gritted teeth.

You pull his underwear down, freeing the hot muscle. It twitches again, oversensitive as it meets the cold air, pre-come already leaking from the tip. The fact that he looks ready to burst any second brings a smile to your face.

You take his heavy balls in one hand, tensing when they meet the soft touch of your skin. Running your lips gently against the underside of his cock, the fingers of your other hand still trace the scars on his thigh.

“Oh… fuck,” he moans.

He looks down at you, kneeling so prettily between his legs, treating him so tenderly.

He swipes your hair out of the way, holding it back so he can see you peppering kisses to the underside of his shaft. Your fingers, at all times, caressing the bright pink markings that decorate his skin.

As you move higher up his length towards the tip, William throws back the last mouthful of whiskey, placing the glass on the table to the side just in time for you to deftly lick the leaking pre-come from his head.

His other hand drops to the couch, gripping the cushions as you feel his thighs tense beneath your hands. You slide the pad of your thumb across a scar that extends horizontally in a straight line just above his knee, while simultaneously running your tongue, pressed flat, up his entire length.

Willim’s grip on your hair tightens, a gratified moan coming from deep in his throat. Wanting to reward him for his patience, you wrap your lips around the swollen red tip and hollow your cheeks, pulling away with a pop sound.

“A-ah!” he cries, voice cracking and desperate.

Not hesitating for a second, you take his length back into your mouth as much as you can, tip almost touching the back of your throat. You pull away, then take him in again, repeating with both hands braced on his thighs, fingertips gliding tantalizingly over the markings underneath.

William guides your head with his hand, pressing you lower and lower onto his cock. Forcing you to take more of him into your mouth with every downstroke. You might be the one pleasuring him, but he’s still in charge.

He watches you, breathing coming in pants softly from his mouth. Holding your hair back out of your face as he watches you swallow him down, so eager to please.

You feel your throat contract as William thrusts up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. He allows you to pull back to catch your breath for a moment. He strokes the back of your head affectionately, before guiding you straight back to his throbbing member, taking him swiftly in your mouth once again.

You flatten your tongue against the underside, lewd noises spilling from your mouth along with saliva that drips down your chin to pool on the couch cushions below. William, quickly approaching his climax, begins rutting into your mouth. Slowly at first, then faster; harder.

Trusting him to use your mouth to push himself over the edge, your fingers move to caress the scars closest to his groin; another series of oval-shapes, all equally spaced, stretching the expanse of his lower abdomen. Conveniently placed low enough they’re entirely hidden by his trousers.

These markings right now, lay bare and within reach as William fucks into your mouth, growing ever the more desperate with every thrust. With the tips of your fingers barely touching the marred skin, his whines become high-pitched, his thrusts sloppy. You run your thumbs over them, circling, applying teasing pressure.

William takes your head in both hands, fingers tangling into your soft hair. His voice unrestrained as his cries echo off the walls and ceiling of his living room.

“A-ah, ah! Oh fuck… Fuck,” he moans your name followed by a string of curses.

Feeling his rhythm falter, hips stuttering, you try your best to take him into your mouth as deep as you can to coax him to his climax. Tongue writhing against his hard length, delightful pressure as you suck and hollow out your cheeks. William thrusts up one final time, you feel just how intensely the muscles in his abdomen and thighs contract as he empties his load right into your mouth and down your throat.

He rocks his hips against your mouth as he comes, each spasm of release drawing a high-pitched whine from his lips. He rides out his orgasm for what feels like twice as long as he usually would. Thinking it must have something to do with just how turned on he became from the attention you gave his scars. You dutifully swallow down every drop he has to give you, jaw aching by the time he’s spent.

William finally relaxes, sinking deeply into the cushions of the couch, his hands falling from where they held your head. You pull him from your mouth slowly, carefully, cleaning him off as you go. Resting your own head, tired now, against his thigh when you’re finished. Though his own eyes have drifted closed, he caresses your hair affectionately from where you lay comfortably against him.

Your heart beats hard in your chest, feeling pride at the way you can make him come undone so completely by just the touch of your fingers. You caress his calf softly and press a kiss to the side of his knee; much like the way you did when this tryst began.

A hum reverberates through his chest, and he gestures for you to come closer, up from your position on the ground. William tucks himself back into his underwear as you stand from the ground, stretching briefly to ease the stiffness that developed in your muscles.

You perch next to him on the couch, slinging a leg over his and resting your head against his chest, hearing his own heart beating underneath the scarred skin. William wraps an arm tightly around you, resting his tired head against yours.

“Come t’ bed with me?” he asks, voice betraying his level of exhaustion.

You nod, cheek rubbing gently against the smattering of hair across his chest.