My most indulgent Side Blog yet

There was a man at work. There always was. If it wasn’t at work, it was someone at the club when you went out with your friends. Some dude who bothered you enough to the point that your frustrations slipped into your nightly debrief with Titus, curled up in the sheets and talking about your days. 

“He’s just so annoying,” You sighed, tucking one of Titus’ curls away from his face. “Today he purposefully let the freezer lock behind me when I know I kept it open.” You were a chef in the resort’s kitchen. And while you had gone to the most prestigious culinary school in the country, your coworkers sometimes treated you like you were a nepo hire. Even though you were hired before you got with Titus. 

“That’s not annoying,” He huffed, eyes narrowed and mouth pinched. “That’s attempted murder.” You rolled your eyes.

“S’a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Titus made a disagreeing noise. He brought your hand down from his forehead and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“Nothing’s too dramatic when it comes to your safety.” You couldn’t stop the stupid love-struck smile that curved your lips. He was dramatic. But he was sweet. An idea bloomed in your mind. At the beginning of your relationship, you made it clear that you didn’t want to use Titus as your enforcer. You didn’t want any special treatment just because you shared a bed with the man who was technically your boss. But it was your coworkers who started casting sideways glances. If they wanted to treat you differently, then maybe you didn’t mind bending your code a little. Your gaze flicked to his lips and back to his eyes.

“Do you think…you could maybe…talk to him?” You proposed cautiously. Titus’ eyebrows raised. 

“Talk to him or talk to him?” He clarified. “Because you know Ursula made me promise-”

“Not to hurt the staff, I know,” You sighed. You removed your hand from his and his lip pouted slightly. “It’s just that I’ve tried to put him back in his place, but it's just not working.” You leaned your face closer to his, breath ghosting over his lips, and you saw his mouth part with anticipation. “I’d be so grateful if you could help.” You let your voice drip with honey at the phrase. A phrase that held a deeper meaning, that both you and Titus were familiar with. A special reward. His breath quivered and he licked his lips. 

“Okay, yea,” He whispered, pupils blown in the low light and intimate setting “Yea, I’ll talk to him.” You smiled and kissed him. But when Titus ran his tongue over the seam of your lips, trying to deepen it, you pulled away. 

“I’ve gotta get up early tomorrow,” You explained and he made a pitiful noise when you rolled over. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“Yea, whatever.” He grumbled. In a few moments, you were slipping into sleep to the chorus of Titus’ soft snores.

Work the next day was fine. Dinner service at the resort restaurant went without a hitch, besides a lady demanding her steak was still undercooked even though the chef struggled to cut through it to prove it was brown on the inside. You were in bed, enjoying the way the silk of your nightie slipped along your bare skin. You were scrolling on your phone when the doors to the bedroom opened. You looked up to see Titus, hair slightly mussed and coat ruffled. His fists rested by his side. You gasped when you saw the flecks of blood and swelling around each knuckle. You climbed out of bed and rushed to him. You took his hands in yours and he let you examine them, turning them over to check if the blood was coming from any cuts. They weren’t. You looked up at him with a question in your eyes. Titus was fighting down a smirk. 

“I talked to him.” He explained simply. One of his hands slipped from your grasp and ran along your ribs. It settled heavy on your waist. His thumb rubbed circles on your abdomen. You smiled at him and kissed his cheek, muttering your appreciation into his ear. Your hands grabbed the lapels of his coat and you walked back to the bed slowly, pulling him along and never breaking eye contact.

“How did he take it?” You asked, slowly undoing the buttons and pushing the wool over his shoulders. 

“He took it.” Titus snorted. “Don’t think you’ll have to worry about him anymore.” You gave him an inquiring look. His head tilted softly. “He’s getting a new job. Still alive. Promise.” Your mouth curled with a grin and you rubbed your nose into his neck. A few soft kisses were placed to the underside of his jaw.

“Ursula’s not gonna be happy with you.” You murmured against his throat. 

“Yea, I kn-oh.” He croaked as your tongue licked a stripe up the side of his neck. He pulled you closer to him instinctively. You felt his cock grow increasingly harder with each nip and kiss to his throat. You pulled away and took him in. His eyes were half-lidded and his pupils were wide with desire, consuming the hazel irises you memorized every fleck of. His bottom lip trembled with each heavy breath. You clicked your tongue at him.

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re already gone,” You cooed, running your thumb over the ridge of his cheek. “Are you gonna be able to handle your reward?” He nodded enthusiastically, but you weren’t done teasing. “I don’t know-”

“Please,” He begged, grip on your hips tightening so hard they’d be sore tomorrow. His voice was broken and filled with need. “Please, I know I can.” His eyes were huge and round with pleading. His breaths were uneven.

“Okay,” You soothed “It’s okay, I believe you.” Your hands cupped his face and he let out a needy groan. It was impressive, actually, how fast you could turn the head of a satanic cult into putty between your fingers. “You ready?” He nodded so hard his cheeks bounced and you gestured for him to get on the bed. He wasted no time, taking off his vest so that he was just in his undershirt and slacks. Titus laid down on his back with his knees up and feet planted into the mattress. He reached out for you, fingers trailing up the inside of your knee. You slapped him away when he got to the hem of your silk nightslip. You crawled on top of him and his hands guided you until you were hovering over his face. He groaned when he saw your pussy on display, no underwear in sight. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, taking a deep inhale of your scent. “What do you say?” You encouraged him.

“Please sit on my face,” He responded immediately, licking his lips “Ride me and use me to get off.” You smiled and caressed his cheek.

“Gonna be good for me?”

“Yea.”

“Let me know if it’s too much and you need a breather, okay?” You always told him he could stop at any time, and Titus always rolled his eyes. He didn’t care if you suffocated him. Genuinely, he would rather stop breathing than have you deprive him of this. You peeled off your gown. You wouldn’t be able to see him beneath the fabric once you descended on him and you wouldn’t be having that. You lowered yourself slowly, but Titus was impatient. He yanked you down on top of him, earning a little yelp from you. He didn’t tease you, immediately plunging his tongue into your cunt. He licked at your insides like a mad man, groaning at your taste and sending buzzes of pleasure through your core. You let tiny gasps and moans slip from your lips, nonverbal praises that Titus was taking care of you. 

You settled into a rhythm quickly, rolling your hips so that his tongue pressed against your favorite spot while also catching his nose on your swollen clit. Titus ate you messily, tongue occasionally slipping and spreading your juices all between your legs. You pulled back slightly to give him some air, but he shook his head and whined, chasing after you and tugging you back down. He was lost in you. Blissed out and pussy-drunk with closed eyes and eyebrows turned up. He whimpered and whined into your cunt with every swipe of your folds against his nose. You felt his torso jump when he involuntarily jerked his hips into the air. You looked back and saw him straining painfully against his pants. His zipper bulged and you saw the outline of him twitch. One of your hands tangled in his cinnamon sugar curls, tugging harshly. Another buck of his hips. Your other hand found his thick cock, rubbing him through his pants. He groaned against you and lifted his hips to meet your slow strokes. You could tell he wouldn’t last much longer. His tongue and hips both moved erratically. The sight of him fucked-out beneath you caused your own orgasm to catch behind your navel. 

“Cum with me, baby,” You ordered, though your voice was more pleading than demanding. He came with a whimper against your cunt, a high pitched noise that pushed you over the edge to your own release. Your hips stuttered against him and you tossed your head back, gasping for breath as your orgasm tore through you and soaked Titus’ face even further. You stilled after a few moments, but Titus still had a death-grip on you, holding you in place on his mouth, tongue still inside you and absorbing any aftershocks. His nose was free and he took deep inhales through it. The puffs of his exhale fanned around your sensitive clit and you let out a shuddered breath of your own. “Were you a good boy for me, Titus?”

He nodded weakly against your thighs, eyes still closed. His heart pounded against his chest and he looked exhausted, but content. You looked over your shoulder. A wet patch seeped through the crotch of his pants, sticky white ropes contrasting with the expensive black fabric. You licked your chapped lips and gave his overstimulated cock a generous squeeze. He grumbled against you.

you have a patchwork of towels covering your bathroom countertop. when he opens the compartment beneath, it’s no different. he inspects the pipe while you get an eyeful of him bent over.

“i see the problem. left my tools at my brother’s. tomorrow i’ll go get them and stop by to fix your sink. probably around noon.”

you agree, but not before mentioning you’d still be at work at that time. “i’ll just drop off my key in the morning.”

true to your word, you had knocked on his door, handing it over so trustfully.

now, andrew wasn’t lying when he said he had forgotten his tools. but there were a few other things he needed to pickup…

he let himself into your apartment, carrying a heavy case of equipment. now alone, he was tempted to peruse your living space. but he was a man on a mission, and there were only a handful of hour until you were back. he marched into your bathroom, quickly getting to work.

the sink was an easy fix, it was the rest he needed to take care of. opening another latch of his briefcase, andrew began to unload the small hidden cameras he had purchased. he was meticulous with his installation, checking from every angle and viewpoint that they were undetectable. he set up the feed to his devices, smirking in satisfaction.

he was packing up his things when he heard the front door being opened. “andrew? you still here?”

he walked out, his expression neutral. “all done.” he set your key on the counter, nodding politely.

you thanked him, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. he made himself scarce after that, hoping you didn’t notice the pink on his face, or the fabric tucked in his pocket.

that night, andrew sat hunched over his desk, staring at the screen of his computer. there you were, in all of your glory. you had just emerged from you bathroom, fresh from a shower. the sight of your silky skin alone has him chubbing up.

you pad around your room, mindless to his prying eyes. he makes quick work of tugging down his waistband, pulling his thick cock out. the tip is red and weeping with his arousal, making the slick slide of his fist even hotter. he thinks about what a disgusting pervert he is. you trusted him, let him into your apartment, and he planted cameras like the sick fuck he was. he pictures how you would react. would you stand there in shock, pretty mouth agape? maybe you’d start to cry, lovely little tears running down your face as the violation dawned on you. or maybe you’d be more visceral, shoving him away as you cursed him out. he groaned at the thought—of you chewing him out—face red and puffy as you told him what a repulsive creep he was. treating you like his own personal cam star. it wasn’t like he had a chance with you before, but you’d never let him touch you now.

the pace of his strokes pick up, heavy panting and his grunts echoing around the room. you start folding your laundry, and he fixates on your nimble hands. he imagines that it’s your soft hand wrapped around him, rather than his own calloused palm. his hips buck at the thought. you put your clothes away, and he remembers the pair of underwear he snuck from your dresser. it sits in his own drawer, tucked away for safe keeping and another night (because he had to have some form of discipline).

before long, you’re relaxing into your sheets, sinking into the pillows. he lets his head tip back, envisioning himself beside you. you’re playing with his curls, peppering kisses along his jaw. you whisper how dirty he is, thumbing the vein on the underside of his cock. you squeeze the base of his length—hand not even close to circling his entire girth—before sliding your hand back up.

andrew whined, squeezing his eyes shut. white hot pleasure is coiling in his gut, hearing the echoes of your filthy words sent electricity down his spine. his thighs tense, the tops of his jeans damp from pre dripping down his knuckles. it’s so gross and wrong but he can’t help himself.

he hears a heavy sigh, eyes snapping back open. you’re curled up on your side, wriggling as you get comfortable. you’re whimpering and—oh. leaning forward, andrew saw that you had a pillow tucked between your thighs. your hips were grinding in slow motions. you let out soft moans, clutching onto the blankets around you. you caress yourself, fingers dancing over your heated skin.

andrew works himself at your pace, “fuuuck, just-just like that, angel.” your moans grow louder and it was better than anything he could have imagined. better than anything he’s already fantasized about. his sweet, doting neighbor, who had no idea he got off to the vision of you naked and writhing beneath him. twitching as he wrung out your pleasure, nails clawing at his back. the morning after, he always trudged into the bathroom in shame. he’d turn around in the mirror, tracing the phantom burn along his shoulder blades.

your movements are frantic now, rutting against that pillow in a way andrew could only call desperation. he knows your close, and so is he. “come for me, come on, i know you can do it.” his words are muttered between groans, chest heaving as he fucked up into his fist. the sound of your combined pleasure fills his room, spilling from his mouth and the monitors.

his body tenses, practically arching off the chair when, “oh, andrew—”

a strangled gasp escapes him, spurting thick ropes of cum all over himself. his hips bucked up, a few droplets managing to land on his desk, onto the bottom of his screen. and fuck—andrew would love nothing more than to paint your beautiful face, to make a mess all of your torso and thighs. to see you limp against the sheets, his cum coating the small of your back.

andrew slumped back in his seat, head spinning from his orgasm. he watched with drooping eyes as you stilled, holding the pillow close to your chest as you shuddered.

the cameras picked up on the way your breath evened, exhaling soft puffs of air. andrew sighed, pushing himself up to go clean up. he waddled to his bathroom, mindful of the mess around his waist.

when you trail your fingers down your bare stomach, tease the waistband of your panties, he actually whines a little.

‘sorry, did you need something?’ you ask, pinching the fabric and letting it snap back against your skin.

you watch him swallow, a slow, painful-looking bob of his throat, before he says, ‘please, let me.’

you reach out and fix an absent curl on his head. ‘let you what, andrew? i can’t give you something unless i know what it is.’

andrew’s neck and shoulders are flushed warm and pink beneath his freckles, and the muscles in his ass clench for a second when he presses his hips into the mattress beneath him.

‘your pussy, please,’ he rasps, ‘let me eat your pussy.’

you hum, sliding your fingers over your cunt, feeling the warmth bleed through the fabric. there’s a little damp spot near your entrance. you rub it slowly with the pads of two fingers, then slip those same two fingers into andrew’s mouth.

‘only good boys get to eat my pussy,’ you say sweetly as he moans, sucking on your fingers. ‘have you been a good boy, andrew?’

he nods, hips jerking against the mattress.

you hum again, considering, and slip your fingers out of his mouth. you bring them back down and rub your cunt again, his spit mixing in with what’s already there, turning the fabric dark.

andrew is watching your fingers like a starved man, pupils blown so wide he couldn’t possibly miss a single detail.

‘i don’t know,’ you say, slipping your fingers into your panties, gasping a little when they glide over your wet clit, ‘my fingers feel really good. i might just rub myself until i come.’

‘no,’ andrew whines, eyebrows drawn together like he’s in acute distress, ‘no, please, i’ll make it so good for you, i will. i’ll make you come. please.’

you rub your clit in slow circles. ‘yeah? you gonna shove your tongue in my cunt, andrew?’

‘yes,’ he says emphatically, tracking your fingers like a predator with their prey.

you prop your foot on his shoulder, knee bending to spread yourself open. ‘you gonna lap at this wet pussy like a dog?’

‘yes,’ he says, and he’s almost panting like this, chest moving in time with his breath.

you slip your fingers out of your panties and slide them into his hair, tugging on his roots until his eyelashes flutter.

‘okay, puppy,’ you finally relent, ‘you can lick,’ and shove his face in your cunt.

andrew groans, inhaling the scent of your pussy like an aphrodisiac before going to town. tonguing and sucking through the fabric until it’s so wet it’s another color altogether. you help him along, rolling your hips up into his mouth and he seems to really like that, groans even louder and you can feel the vibration roll through you, rumbly against your clit.

he gets a hand beneath his chin to tug the gusset of your panties to the side, and licks deep between your folds, looking up at you when you make a noise, pulling off your clit with a soft, wet pop! then he does it again and again, flat dragging tongue that ends with a teasing suck at the top.

‘that taste good, puppy?’ you ask him.

andrew buries his face against you in response and wiggles his tongue all the way inside your hole.

‘mnn—fuck,’ you moan, cupping the back of andrew’s head as he starts to tongue-fuck your pussy, lick you from the inside.

you press your hips up, trying to get him impossibly deeper, and you might be suffocating him a little like this because his eyes roll back and he starts actively humping the bed.

‘oh, you like that?’ your voice a little high and reedy from your pleasure, ‘like when i use you like this?’

andrew moans deep into your cunt, only slipping out his tongue to suck on your clit. he’s sucks like he enjoys the feeling maybe more than you do, like there’s nothing in the world he’d rather be doing with his mouth.

you tug the curls at the crown of his head. ‘mm, a good boy who likes being useful, wants to give me a reason to keep him around.’

andrew’s hips are continuously rolling now, thighs spread wide to drag his dick against the mattress, desperate noises muffled against your pussy.

‘you gonna let me keep you, puppy?’

andrew lets out an unintelligible noise and sucks on your clit firm enough that your hips jerk. it makes you stutter out a surprised laugh, delighted, as he goes back to softly licking you.

‘i can get you a handsome collar,’ you tell him, breathless, ‘with my name on it, of course, so everyone knows who you belong to.’

andrew’s eyes find yours and they’re mostly pupil, irises barely a thin ring that wraps around their circumference. you take a moment to enjoy how pussy-drunk he looks like this, save it in your memory.

‘you want that? you want to be my dog?’

he takes a single second to pull off your clit and rasp, ‘yes,’ and then doubles down on his efforts until intense pleasure is shooting up from your cunt into your belly.

you buy him a collar the very next day, hook a finger beneath it to drag him in for a filthy kiss.

the first time it scared you, because you thought he was uncomfortable, or you were hurting him in some way.

laying him on his back gently, making sure the pillows cushion his head while he looks at you with those big and fawn like, hungry eyes. holding his chest while you sink down on him with a moan, head thrown back slightly as he grasps into your hips, helping you take it all. “god baby, y’feel so good,” you moan, biting your lip and rolling your head on your shoulder, smirking at the little noises he starts to let out.

you feel him buck his hips, whiney whimpers exiting him as you plant your hands at his shoulders. “don’t-don’t move baby, don’t gotta do anything. i’ll take care of you tonight, ok? you had a long day.” you coo, staring into his glassy eyes. his brows pull forward, you can see the confusion in his face. “you had a long day,” you emphasize before he can speak, “just lay down. relax, Andy, relax.”

you don’t stop your movements, but through small moans you watch him unwind, fall back into the pillow, let his body sink into the mattress as you ride him, groans spill out more frequently with the heave of his chest. at one point his hands glide off you and onto the bed, letting them lay there as he succumbs to the pleasure flowing through his body.

you let out a breathy giggle, “m’i making you feel good baby? d’you like it?” his groans and whimpers have gone shakey, teeth bared as he pants, eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed. “yeahhh..” he whimpers, and through his lashes you see little droplets of water cling onto them before rolling down the sides of his face and into his hair.

“feels so good i..fuck you’re so good…” he hiccups, no longer trying to hide he’d been crying. your heart drops, eyes widening as you halt your movements, grabbing his face and watching his tear eyes fall open on you, adorning that pouty lip. “Andrew? what-what happened, did i do something??” his chest is shaking with heavy gasps and hiccups, tears flowing down his pretty pink cheeks.

“n-no, no i just..keep going baby m’okay..” he grabs your hips again, rocking you on him, groaning again and tearing eyes rolling back in pleasure. “honey if-if there’s something wrong i want you to tell me, please..” you hold his pouty face, squishing his cheeks slightly as his brows furrowed, looking into your worried eyes.

“nothing honey, nothing i just..fuck you’re soo..i-i don’t know..i don’t know,” his voice cracks, he’s got that look in his blown pupils that makes your stomach hurt. you hate seeing Andrew cry, it’s like a thousand bombs being dropped. your sweet boy is so overwhelmed.

“you’re so good to me and i..i don’t know, i don’t know what to do. you take care of me,” he breaths, and as you listen you let him guide your hips on his cock, it was clearly calming his nerves. “and you love me, even when i feel like i don’t deserve it. it’s just so much, and fuck you feel so good and i can’t take it..” he shrugs his shaking shoulders.

“i’m ok baby i promise, just..keep going. i love it, i love it so much, i love you,” you meet his assuring nods, leaning down and meeting him halfway in a kiss, raking your fingers through his curls, grinding your hips down as he fucks into you from below. “you promise?” you moan into his mouth, your forearm pressing against his chest as he holds you closer. “i pinky promise baby.”

after that, when he started to tear up or full on sob while inside you, you could gauge why. whether it be from a bad day and needing to destress, he always felt safe enough to let go with you, to let his emotions float away into this sacred space.

you hear his little hums and whimpers into your kiss, pulling him closer while he holds your calves that wrapped around his torso. “Andy?” you whisper, not pulling away, but feeling his tears against your cheeks. “m’okay, i’m alright, just..” he nods, hicupping a shudders breath as he rocks into you towards his orgasm, other hand coming up to grab at your boob.

you nod again, letting him breath and groan into your mouth, grazing his tongue over yours as his eyes squeeze shut. times like this you peak your eyes open a little just to see him, to see his tight squeezed brows, fluttering lashes and teary pink cheeks. “let it out, ok? breath,” you tell him, getting another soft nod as his shallow thrusts speed up slightly, more groans and whimpers coming from him as he lets his emotions flow through him freely.

“just breath baby, it’s me and you. let it out, ok?” “okay, o-okay,” he strains before another groan, his hands are jittery on your skin, running up your body with gentleness. you’ve learned that sometimes, he doesn’t want those feelings to come out. so he just needs a little more. you swallow his ragged breath and girly moans, holding the back of his neck to keep him pressed close, lips on each other as you take him in and feel his orgasm run at you.

“you love me?” “i love you, i love you so much baby-mmpf i love you so much honeybee.” Andrews so soft like this, so entirely yours. “yeah?” “yeah. yeah. m’yours i..i love you and im yours,” he nods frantically, and you feel his hips become a bit more erratic. “love you so much, oh god, fuck i love you, m’gonna cum ok? holy fuck,” you smile faintly, letting him wrap himself around you and sob in your ear, cheek to warm cheek and sweaty body in yours.

The first time Pope had seen you, you were sitting out by the pool, feet hanging over the edge of the pool with a joint dangling from your lips. And that bikini you had on left very little to the imagination. 

His eyes had traced the curve of your chest, the lines of your mouth, before Smurf clearing her throat beside him had interrupted his train of thought. 

“She’s Jay’s friend,” she said, answering Pope’s question before he could even ask it. “Don’t scare her.”

With that Smurf pushed open the sliding glass door, taking out two glasses of lemonade for you and Jay. Your voice drifted into the kitchen as you thanked her. You were at least polite, Pope thought. 

He only became more fascinated with you the more Jay brought you around. 

The two of you had grown up together. You had lived next door and had bonded over having difficult parents. So Jay had wanted you to feel welcome at the Cody house. If he was going to finally get a better life, so were you. Which led to you practically living at the house. 

But both Jay and Smurf had warned you about Pope. The eldest Cody brother had a reputation. He was an ex-con with a violent streak. He’s just a little… off, they’d said. 

They hadn’t been entirely wrong but he intrigued you. And he was Jay’s uncle! It’s how you justified going out of your way to talk to him.

It started with simply saying hello, asking how his day was from time to time. He’d give you a gruff, often one-word answer. But it grew into him asking the occasional question in return. A longer answer. Sitting with him while he watched his animal documentaries when Jay was too busy and you needed an escape from your house.

Pope would never admit it aloud but he liked having you around. You didn’t treat him like the others did – like he was a ticking time bomb. You treated him like he was normal. Like you would anyone else. And he knew that because he’d seen how you were with people day-to-day when he followed just that one time. He just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any ulterior motives for hanging around the house!

Smurf had invited people over for another party.

Normally he’d grumble about all the strangers in his house, the mess they’d leave and how loud they were. But Pope kept his mouth shut. Because it meant you were there, sitting by the pool in a tiny bikini. 

He watched from the kitchen as your head tipped back in laughter at something Jay had said. His eyes traced the line of your throat, focusing on the bead of sweat dripping down to your clavicle. All he wanted to do was trace his tongue along that same path, to taste your sun-warmed skin.

But he couldn’t do that. So he settled for watching from a distance. 

The entire night you could feel his heavy gaze on you, following you. It wasn’t anything new. It seemed like every time you set foot in the Cody house, he hovered – far enough away to give him deniability, but close enough that you knew he was there. But somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. And the more you drank, the more you enjoyed the attention.

By the end of the night, you were a complete mess. 

You stumbled into the house, narrowly avoiding falling flat on your face, as Pope caught you. His hands settled on your hips to stabilize your wobbly legs.

You giggled, looking up at him through your lashes. “Thank you.”

“You should go to bed.”

“I should,” you agreed, nodding along, but you didn’t move.

“I’ll walk with you,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t need you falling on your ass and hurtin’ yourself.” 

There was no protest from you as he guided you into Jay’s bedroom. You always tended to crash in his room when you stayed the night. And you were pretty sure he was still out in the backyard with the few still partying. 

Pope helped you into the room. He made sure you got changed and made sure you fast asleep before he left. He didn’t want to leave, but you needed your sleep. 

It took him about four hours before he was back in the room. He just wanted to check on you! That’s how he convinced himself it was fine, even as he sat on the edge of the bed. It creaked under his weight, but you didn’t stir. 

You were completely sprawled across Jay’s bed. And at some point you’d kicked the blankets off. The shirt you were wearing had rode up your thighs in the night, giving him the perfect view of your lacy panties.

His fingers traced the bare skin of your ankle. The touch was feather-light. That’s as far as it was going to go – a brief moment of weakness. He didn’t want to wake you. 

Then you shifted in your sleep, thighs parting like you were inviting him in. As if in your sleep, you knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you. The thought was intoxicating, the need to touch you overwhelming any rational thought he might have. 

His other hand moved up to your chest. He cupped one of your breasts in his hand, squeezing gently. He half-expected you to wake – to jolt up, scream, something – but your eyes stayed firmly shut, your breathing still even. 

The longer you slept through his ministrations, the bolder he became. 

Soon enough, he was sitting between your parted thighs, his body keeping your legs from closing. He’d pulled your panties to the side, slipping one finger into your dripping cunt. Clearly you wanted him if you were wet!

Your eyes began to flutter open, a soft noise of confusion leaving your lips as you woke up. Your brain still felt fuzzy from the combination of sleep and your earlier alcohol. It took you too long to register what was happening. 

The panic sunk in as your brain caught up with your body – the feeling of someone’s finger sliding in and out catching up to you. 

Pope’s hand clamped over your mouth before you could scream. 

“Shh,” he hushed you gently, never stopping his movements. “‘s just me.”

You blinked slowly. You knew you should scream, thrash, something. Even though you’d been fast asleep, the effects of alcohol still lingering in your system, he had done this – woken you up, knuckle deep in your weeping pussy. 

It was wrong for so many reasons.

But you didn’t scream. Despite the fear, the panic rising in your chest, you couldn’t seem to move. It was like you were paralyzed, unable to do anything but let him take what he wanted from you.

“Knew you wanted this too,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you, as you seemed to give in. 

Maybe he was right, maybe you did want this. Your body seemed to want it, even if the rational part of your brain was vehemently against it. You couldn’t help the pathetic moan that escaped your lips, his palm catching the noise, as he curled his finger just right. 

He added a second finger to the mix, stretching you open. His eyes were transfixed on the sight of your pretty pussy swallowing his digits. The thought of that being his cock, sinking into your heat, had heat crawling up his spine. 

Pope pulled his fingers out, watching your hole clench around nothing. But he couldn’t wait any longer to have you. He needed you. 

“Y’gonna be quiet?” he asked. You nodded weakly.

When he was certain you weren’t going to scream, he took his hand off your mouth. He made quick work of his belt and shirt the moment his hands were free. He tossed the leather to the side and kicked off his jeans. 

He chuckled as your eyes widened, locked on to the obvious tent in his boxers. “You want my cock, sweetheart?” 

He was clearly big. It was obvious and the thought was intimidating. But any words died on your tongue as he pushed his boxers down, freeing his aching length. The tip was already an angry red, leaking precum. He was just as desperate as your body was. 

One of his hands wrapped around his cock. He teased it through your folds, tapping the head against your clit. Your hips shifted. You weren’t sure if you were trying to run away or run towards the feeling.  

“So fucking wet.” He sounded utterly in awe, his cock now slick with your arousal. “She’s practically begging for me.”

Pope’s eyes were fixed on your core, thumbs spreading your lips apart before he finally lined his tip up with your entrance. His movements were so slow, the head of his cock just barely pushing inside. Inch by inch, he sunk into heat. Your head tipped back against the pillows, a soft moan falling from your lips, despite yourself, as he bottomed out. 

“Gotta be quiet,” he hushed. “Don’t want to wake anyone up, do you?” 

“N-no.” You shook your head, teeth sinking into your bottom lips to stifle the noises that threatened to slip out. For good measure, his meaty hand settled on your delicate throat. He squeezed gently. 

“Good girl.”

The combination of his hand on your throat and his cock filling you to the brim was too much and not enough at the same time. Your head was swimming with the heady mix of pleasure. Heat licked at your spine, curled in your tummy. The burning stretch of him splitting you open faded into something toe-curling. 

His grunts filled your ear as he finally moved. His hips snapped harshly against your own, the slap of skin echoing harshly in the otherwise quiet room. And the slick sound coming from between your legs was practically pornographic. You weren’t sure you’d ever been this wet. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, head dropping against your shoulder. The way you clenched around his cock was overwhelming his senses, sending pleasure through every nerve. “Gripping me so fuckin’ tight. Can barely move.” 

“Pope,” you cried out his name, voice whiny. 

He wanted to hear every noise he could pull out of you, even if you were supposed to be quiet. 

Pope pushed your legs up until they were practically touching your chest, letting him hit deeper – deeper than you thought physically possible. You could feel him in your tummy with each thrust. 

His hand found its way between your sweaty bodies, palming your breasts. It trailed further down your body. A moan – loud and shaky – escaped your mouth as he pressed down on your belly, palm splayed across your bare skin. 

“Shit!” His other hand, still sitting heavy on your throat, squeezed tighter when you cried out, forcing you to quiet down. 

His pace quickened, chasing your orgasm with a new fervor. “You wanna cum around my cock?” You nodded. You were close, teetering on the precipice. “C’mon then. Cum. Wanna feel you milk my cock.”

His words, in time with a well-angled thrust, had the coil snapping. You clenched around him, thighs shaking as he drove his cock into you, chasing his own orgasm. 

“Fuck… fuck,” a string of curses fell from his lips. “Gonna fill you up.” 

Pope practically collapsed on top of you, his weight making it hard to breathe, as his orgasm washed over him, filling you to the brim with his cock and his seed. 

“Goddamn,” he groaned, kissing your neck softly. “So fuckin’ perfect.” 

Slowly, he pulled back. His eyes were glued to your core as his cum leaked out, the sticky combination of you and him dripping onto the sheets – Jay’s sheets.

As you came to – brain in charge now that you were no longer thinking with your pussy – the guilt, shame too, clawed at your insides. You hated that you’d enjoyed it. You were just as fucked up as him to have liked it. But you tried to ignore how you wanted him to do it again and again, as he pulled away.

He disappeared into the bathroom, coming back with a washcloth. His hands were gentle as he cleaned you up, a stark contrast to the way he had fucked you. He started getting redressed. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him intently.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling nervous. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” you whispered, breaking the tense silence in the room. “Jay can never find out. He’ll never forgive me.”

He nodded. “It’ll be our little secret.” 

The look in his eye — the hunger — should’ve scared you. Everything about him, his willingness to cross boundaries you were too weak to hold, should’ve given you pause. But instead his words seemed to stoke the fire in you all over again.

You were so screwed.

getting to know you, getting closer to you, finding that you did want his touch and that you did want to touch him back would be an out of body experience for him. he'd take a very long time to initiate any sort of touch with you. even if it was holding hands, hugging, cuddling, he'd be in over his head. his heart would hammer all the way out of his chest when he realized the ways in which you'd subtly initiate soft physical contact with him, not knowing what to do with all these feelings blooming inside him. his breath would catch and his brain would work overtime as he panicked as to how to respond, how to hold you back and not fuck everything up — but you'd still hold him even if he was a little awkward, even if he hesitated and averted his eyes bashfully.

and when it finally came to more intimate contact, andrew would be equally as lost as before. it'd be a slow process finding that he was not only allowed to touch you, but that it was highly encouraged. his eyes would widen every time and his breath would catch. he would not be able to understand what he'd done to deserve it. he'd be constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to turn around and punish him for taking more than he was allowed, for you to scream and cry at him to get away. but as time passed, and as that never ended up becoming a reality, he'd slowly learn that it was all real. it'd take him a while to start touching you with certainty, with confidence. it'd be a battle you'd have to overcome together, but andrew would lose himself in you every time you coaxed him into pleasurable touch. he'd start thinking about you at every turn, he'd crave you, he'd condition himself to connect any and all positive feelings with you. his body would crave you, and he'd slowly learn that he could take and that you'd give in return.

this is where my belief that andrew and his partner would fuck like bunnies comes in lol. i think he'd be so pent up, so unaccustomed to pleasure that he'd sort of give in to it as much as humanly possible. he'd become obsessed with you, the person who'd taught him that pleasure was an option and that physical touch could be good and could come without strings. andrew would want to satiate your every need, feeding off your pleasure and unwilling to let anything or anyone to get in the way. i think over time you'd explore everything and find a rhythm where you'd just become insatiable with one another. you'd want to give andrew anything he could possibly want, and he'd live to fulfill your every desire.