be wild and have fun

you always knew moments like this would be inevitable, given that gaara's duty as kazekage is a demanding one that takes many an effort to completely satisfy. you couldn't hold anything against him, though. not the endless paperwork, not the gruelling diplomatic endeavours, not even the urgent summons that happen right before you're getting somewhere with him.

nothing.

it was understandable that he'd sleep immediately without wishing you good night. you could also tolerate the final ghost of his lips on your forehead at sunrise before he returns past midnight. maybe you'd see him at dinner and share warm words, but only for a few minutes before duty called him again.

and over and over again, you would never complain. with your considerate mind and empathetic heart, you'd never find the nerve to feel upset with yourself, nor would you ever find the nerve feel upset at your husband for simply doing his job.

but what you do feel, is uncertain.

it's hard not to feel uncertain about where things are going when the distance between you grows further and further, day by day. it's a morbid and irrational thought that you know isn't true, but you wonder if he still carries love for you in his heart. the same love that made you so certain.

mashrabiya screens pass cool air onto your skin as you sit in front of the large mirror at your dressing table, getting ready for bed. the candles on the desk flicker slowly, casting warm light over your skin. but still, the colour in your eyes remain dim when you think about how seldom you exchange touches with gaara. upon the realisation that you're thinking selfishly, you sigh. but are you so wrong to desire? are you wrong for wanting your husband to yourself?

and just as you're about to wear your bonnet and retire for the night, you hear the door slowly open. you don't bother to turn your head towards it. even when you hear the familiar weight of soft footsteps that are undeniably gaara's, you continue to stare at your pretty reflection in the mirror.

you expect what's been typical for the past few weeks: the sound of clothes coming off his body before he goes straight to bed. or maybe, some footsteps that fall out of earshot as he walks to his study to resume work.

but when your eyes flicker to the ornate clock on the wall, you note that your expectations have been subverted. it reads nine 'o'clock. you thought he'd be at a meeting until midnight, but your husband is here, and sooner than you'd anticipated.

gaara's taller frame remains stood by the door, staring at your seated form momentarily. his keen eyes roam over the thin fabric of your loose night dress, admiring how the cloth drapes over your curvature like brushstrokes of paint would on a canvas. those eyes continue to weigh heavily on you, but you do not waver.

"gaara," you cross your legs, still focused on your reflection. "you're early today."

there's no biting bitterness, no excitement, or any other possible emotion he could gauge from your tone. it's merely a flat observation.

"yes," he responds quietly. "i am."

in this moment, gaara notices how your usually bright eyes appear lacklustre. it urges him to think carefully and pause for a few heartbeats before speaking again, should he make them even dimmer with the wrong words.

"forgive me, beloved. you weren't expecting my arrival, were you?"

gaara shuts the door from behind him with a soft click, and the bedroom, as large as it is, feels smaller. the air feels heavier. and the silence that follows is burdening, as if you're watching individual grains of sand as they pass through an hourglass. it's unusual, gaara thinks to himself. he's standing in the same spot where you would always, without fail, rush to kiss him after a difficult day. your sweet laughter would bounce off the walls, and you'd behave as if you couldn't bear another second without touching him.

and now, as he remains stood in that same spot, he's confronted by not only the cold barrier of your averting gaze, but also a new emotion: guilt.

he feels guilt over the fact that when you needed him the most, he wasn't there.

he feels guilty because his absence had reduced your expectations of him. it had trained you to accept less than what you deserve, and it broke him. lord kazekage, provider of the nation, could not even provide his own wife with the sustenance to satiate her cravings.

granted, gaara had a fledgling heart that learned the meaning of love later than you, but he knew that throwing "sorries" without action in the air would never compensate for his limited presence. and so quietly, he takes a step forwards, and then another.

towards your desk, towards you.

he stands behind you, close enough to catch your comforting scent, but far enough so that you don't feel his breath fanning on your skin. theres several weeks' worth of interrupted meals, forgotten 'good night's and 'good morning's, and empty sheets on his side of the bed squeezing in that distance between you. within that span of time, you've both not touched each other properly, and the promise of such close contact is being dangled right in front of gaara's face.

you know he's refusing to take his eyes off your reflection in the mirror, but you are just as stubborn in retaliation when you refuse to look back, acting as if he's not there.

but when he leans down, with his lips so close to your temple, you're forced to reckon with his presence. your breath hitches, and your legs cross themselves tighter in a bid to stay resistant as he speaks gently.

"i'm here now... but i don't know if you want me, y/n."

"gaara..." you whisper.

"y/n," he whispers back. "if we are going to spend a lifetime together, i should spend it making sure you're pleased with me. living without love isn't something i intend on making you endure."

"i know the agony of being deprived of love much too well. it's painful," he continues the soft speech in your ear. "it weighs heavily on your heart." a pause. "does it hurt, y/n?"

your shoulders stiffen at the probing question you desperately want to say "yes" to. it shouldn't hurt. you want to act like it doesn't, but it does.

"no, gaara," you feign quietly. "i know how much suna means to you."

he stays quiet.

"you're the kazekage. there's a lot of work, and an immense amount of responsibility involved in making sure this village is safe."

you stop gazing into the mirror, opting to look down at the flickering candle on the desk instead. "i expect you to take care of this village to the best of your ability," you murmur. "it's okay, my dear."

gaara can't believe how gentle you're being. his lips form a slight frown, because your acceptance hurts him way more than your anger would have. slowly, he leans even closer into you, ensuring that this time, the warmth of his body surrounds your back, with his chest barely grazing the seat as his head settles besides yours. his lips chase what little space there is dividing you both, yet still, they don't touch you. they hover just over the shell of your ears.

"but you don't expect me to take care of you to the best of my ability?"

when you register the faint lament in his tone, your heart fractures. you don't have the will to start thinking of a response, nor the courage to finish an answer.

"i don't want you to expect less. please don't expect less of me, y/n," he lowers his voice. "all the time i spend away from you.. the times i failed to even hold you when we share the same bed... you can't call that love."

gaara's hands settle against the armrests on either side of you, trapping you gently between him and the vanity.

“when i was younger, i convinced myself that loneliness was survivable. but your love taught me that surviving and living are very different things. you shouldn't have to survive loneliness because i'm the kazekage, y/n."

your shoulders loosen at his sincerity. "yeah?" your voice is soft.

"yes," he whispers. "if you'll let me, i'll make it up to you. please, tell me what to do. i don't want understanding, i need honesty. just tell me, y/n..."

and for the first time that night, you stop hiding from him. your eyes lift to meet his seafoam green ones in the mirror, varnished by the candlelight. when your lips part slightly, it almost feels like the world has stopped spinning, and that the earth will only resume the tilt on its axis when you speak again.

"i need you, gaara."

gaara freezes, the only moving thing in his body being the incessant beating of his heart. "how...?" he asks faintly. the question makes your core feel weak, because you know he'd give you exactly what you want if you told him.

"gaara," you sigh, uncrossing your legs. "i need you. i need to fuck you. i want to feel you." your voice is clear, never once faltering or stuttering. "i want to feel like your wife again, gaara. i can't take it anymore."

"that's what you want..." his stomach flips, and his face feels warm. "you'll have it," he affirms.

your thighs press together under your gown, and gaara's eyes drop to the subtle movement before shifting back to your eyes in the mirror. to his surprise, you turn your head to face him instead of using the mirror as your messenger.

you kiss him first, and he can't believe he's touching you after so long. he releases a soft whimper that tastes sweet in your mouth as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head while his calloused thumb strokes against your cheek. it's almost like a salve that heals the pain, and numbs the hurt.

“y/n…” he breathes against your lips.

you slip out of your seat before gaara can compose himself. when he blinks, he finds that you are no longer slotted between his arms, but instead, stood up before him, fingers playing with the collar of his robes.

"come here, my love."

ironically, the kazekage obeys your order, taking a step closer. his forehead drops against yours, and he stares while your hands slowly begin to loosen the layers of ceremonial garments still clinging to him.

"you came straight here after work, didn't you?"

gaara nods once. "i wanted to see you."

you hum, delivering a soft smile in response. "i'm glad you did." gaara smiles faintly in exchange when he notices that the joy in your eyes have returned.

you push the heavy outer robe from his shoulders, revealing simple dark red clothes underneath that flatter his form perfectly. you notice that the sensation of your palms, smoothing over his chest and down to his firm stomach, casts slight tremors that vibrate under your hands. he's shaking.

"it's only been a few weeks. don't be shy." you tease, peppering soft kisses across his face. "you offered to make it up to me."

for gaara, every moment of intimacy feels like the first time.

with a slow insistence, you walk into him like a vixen cornering her prey, guiding him backwards until the back of his knees gently hit the edge of the bed. he looks up at you with expectant eyes as he sits.

you step in between his parted legs. gaara's hands hover above your hips, prompting you to take them and guide them onto the dipping flesh there. the blank space between his legs is quick to be occupied by you climbing into his lap. your body weight on him feels thrilling, and gaara mentally curses himself for missing out on you, when you were there all along.

he can't help but stare at the outline of your body, wrapped around sheer fabric that looks almost translucent in the candlelight. upon closer inspection, he swallows. you're not wearing anything underneath. when he looks down, he's welcomed by your round breasts, and your nipples poking against the fabric. he begins to question if you planned this out, though he knows you didn't.

"gaara." your gentle call catches him off-guard. his eyes snap back to your face.

"you can touch me, baby." you lean into him. "feel me." you whisper.

his palms move hesitantly at first, gently cupping your soft breasts like he’s afraid he’ll ruin the moment by wanting too much from you. but you press closer like it doesn't matter. you're selfish with your desire when your hips slowly grind against the erection that's already straining against his pants. you show him that it's okay to take as much as he wants.

a helpless sound escapes his lips as you rock against him. your hands wrap themselves around his back of his neck, fingers tenderly grazing along the nape. "i missed you." you whisper in his ear. "i missed you so much."

"oh-," an exhale leaves him, "i missed you too, beloved. i think about you all day." his voice gets more breathy. "i think about you during my meetings..."

"you do, baby?"

"y-yes," he begins to lift his hips up into you, rubbing his clothed dick against the clothed outline of your pussy. "especially during my meetings..."

"what do you think about, hm?" you nibble on his ears, pink with heat.

"us," he pants. "us, just like this..." he squeezes your breasts firmer, rolling his thumbs over your thinly veiled nipples. if it wasn't possible, his face grows even warmer at the confession. it wasn't just you who happened to have pent-up desires.

gaara's lips catch yours in a deep kiss: voraciously, greedily, and needily in a way he rarely allows himself to be. duty always denied him the pleasure of your intimacy, but now, you gave him the opportunity to taste you. your tongue swirls around his, and he feels the bridge between you being mended as you fuse into one, almost consuming him. with your lips still connected, you push his shoulders into the mattress, leaving him laid down on his back with you on top of him.

your lips remain locked until you sit up to hook your fingers around the hem of his shirt. the way you tower above his lap, and raise the shirt as if you've got all the time in the world makes his dick pulse in anticipation. he helps you by lifting his arms, and pulling it over his head before he tosses it aside.

the sight before you is like a display of living art. there's lean muscle that rises and falls with each and every breath he takes. fair skin like ivory that glows under the dim lights. faded scars scattered across his body that tell his story. gaara tracks your expressions carefully, almost shy beneath your attention now that you’re admiring him.

“you're beautiful, gaara." you say quietly.

gaara blinks. "do you think so?"

you look into his eyes. "i'm looking at you. i know you are, my love."

he hums at your praise falling on his ears.

your fingers brush across his neck, planning out your next mission before you lean down to leave kisses against the sensitive skin there. you stay buried in the crook of his neck, just for a minute to breathe him in, and what your nose picks up is intoxicating. it's the nostalgic smell of oud that has lingered from the day you met, up until this moment. it makes you groan and nip hungrily at his neck, warranting breathless pleas from gaara that don't stop as you continue the trail of kisses that move from the ridges of his collarbones, to his chest. it's almost overwhelming, knowing that you finally have all of him to yourself. there's so much of him that you want to taste.

"fuck, gaara," you kiss along his chest. "if it were up to me, you'd never have to work again." your soft lips meet the plane of his toned abs, and gaara watches you with heavy-lidded eyes, completely transfixed by the sheer amount of attention you're paying to his body. "i'd just keep you here all day..." when you finally kiss your way to the waistband of his pants and become level with his constrained erection, your eyes stay trained on his.

gaara exhales shakily when your smooth knuckles tease along his iliac crest, with muscles flexing instinctively at your touch. the way you look up at him through your eyelashes like a temptress makes his chest stir, and he can't wait for you to free his cock from his pants.

after what feels like eternity, your deft fingers slip to the buttons of his pants. button after button, you take your precious time while never averting your gaze from his. a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead when you're done.

you tug down on the waistband of his pants, indicating for him to lift his hips up. when he does, you're quick to pull them off, leaving him clad in only a pair of boxers that already have a dark patch on them, saturated with precum.

"oh, gaara," you chide teasingly. "is this all because of me?" after all this time, it's still thrilling to see the impact you have on your husband. it makes you even hungrier.

"it is, y/n," his breathing is shallow. "it always is..."

you peel away at the final article of clothing, revealing his pulsating hardness once and for all. his dick twitches upon exposure to the air, and you catch it in your hand, mulling your thumb over his leaking, flushed tip. "i can't believe i get to have you to myself, gaara." your wet tongue presses against the underside of his cock, outlining every vein as you lick from base, to shaft, to tip. "all of you."

gaara doesn't know what he enjoys more: the feeling of your tongue giving his cock grace, or your words and undivided attention. it makes him grip onto the sheets. the sight of this alone tempts him to abandon his post as kazekage, and just give the role to kankuro instead.

you're eager in fitting his entire length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, and allowing yourself to feel the tip of his dick hit the soft palate at the back of your mouth. the pleasure is unbearable for gaara, who can't stop calling your name as you continue to fuck his slippery dick into the depths your throat. giving gaara head was something you would always take delight in, because you love the power you have over him. you love the fact that only you are capable of making him fall apart like this.

gaara's hand extends itself, landing softly on the top of your head. he doesn't exert pressure or push your head down. no, this moment is yours, and he doesn't want to take from you. he simply wants to feel you twice as much. your glossy eyes look into his, and what he sees pushes him to the periphery of an orgasm. his cock, drenched in your saliva. your cheeks, hollow around him. and your lips, shiny and slightly swollen from earlier's kissing. the sloppy noises of your mouth make it all too positively overwhelming for him.

"y/n," he pants. "y/n... i'm very, very close. i don't think i'll last if-" his sentence is fragmented by a soft moan. "my love..."

you separate your mouth from gaara's cock and pull away at his warning, catching your breath briefly. "cum for me, baby. let me taste you." to compensate for the feeling of your throat, you twist around his dick with your hands. you angle his cock towards your lips, and stick your tongue out. he groans, and you catch the droplets of warm, thick cum that spew out of him. it tastes slightly bitter in your mouth, like green tea. you don't waste a single drop, making sure it all gets swallowed.

"you liked that, didn't you?" you plant a kiss on his lower abdomen, still tense from his orgasm. "i did, y/n. very much." he blushes, almost speechless.

"i'm not through with you, gaara."

"well, it's only natural that you aren't," he responds. "i do have a lot to make up for. and i owe you a lot, don't i?" gaara's hand raises to cup your cheek, then it lowers onto his lap. "y/n. come to me." his hand pats on his lap, gesturing for you to take your throne.

with your legs straddling his hips, you put your weight on the seat of his lap. gaara can already feel the blood rushing back to his cock from just looking at you. the second skin of your dress describes every curve in your arsenal: the swell of your tits, the slight inward dip of your waist, your rippling tummy, and the fleshiness of your hips that flare out where you're seated on his lap. you resemble something divine to him.

"beautiful." the word comes out like a reflex. without speaking any further, he lifts both his palms slowly, feeling along the silhouette of your body. he starts at the broad expanse of thighs, travelling with an intentional slowness to your ass. he cups and squeezes each cheek, both of them supple underneath his grip. "gaara..." you gasp.

"y/n," he half-whispers. "there are moments where i can't believe you're real, and the only way i'm convinced is if i feel you... just like this."

gaara's hands continue their journey. they're gliding up the hollow of your waist and they move inwards to catch the soft flesh of your tummy. it's been too long since he's touched you like this, and it's almost like he's trying to remember what you feel like. he's missed how you feel. there's warmth on your breasts as his palms flatten over the mound, while his thumbs brush over your hard nipples, desperate to break through the cloth. your dress may as well not be there, with the way gaara's eyes are burning holes into it.

your hips moving back and forth on his lap catch his attention. gaara doesn't intend on denying you your pleasure any more than he already has in his absence. single-handedly, he tears the dress off your body, exposing your skin to him at long last.

he already thought you were beautiful before, but the sentiment seems to be amplified when he sees your beauty marks, your scars, and all the other flaws decorating your skin that make you none the more perfect in his eyes.

"shame," your voice is teasing. "i really liked that dress."

gaara positions his hard dick in between your sopping, wet folds, more pleased about the fact that there's no barrier between you now. "yeah? me too. it looked good on you," he blushes. "i'll get you as many pairs as you want, beloved. i'm sorry i did that."

he slides back and forth effortlessly against your pussy, soaked from all the events of the night. when his tip catches on your clit, you moan at how exquisite the friction feels. gaara is mesmerised watching you ride his lap. the lewd sounds of your essence and his precum fill the room, making his head spin. both of your lips are agape, spilling breaths and moans the outside world can't hear.

"baby..." you pant, "i need more."

"you need more, my dear?

"fuck, y-yes, gaara," your body is covered in a thin film of sweat from the speed you've been grinding against him at. "i need you to fuck me!"

that's all the confirmation he needs to lift your ass from his lap, leaving you hovering above him while he holds the base of his erection. he rubs along your pussy until the tip of his cock finds your entrance.

"are you ready, y/n?" he knows you're more than ready when he sees your pussy drooling essence onto his cock, but still, he wants to be certain.

"gaara. i have never wanted you to fuck me more than in this moment."

he rapidly exhales from his nose, smiling at you faintly. "very well."

when his tip burrows in your entrance, you breathe in. you savour how delicious the stretch feels in your pussy as you sink down effortlessly on his entire length. a wave of satisfaction washes over gaara when he sees that he's finally reacquainted with your warm walls that fit oh-so-perfectly around his dick. he's fantasised about this happening countless times while working, and for it to finally be happening? it's like a dream come true.

"beloved..." he breathes out.

"i know, my love..." you coo.

you begin bouncing on gaara's cock, up and down, up and down, keeping that addicting pace. gaara moans softly. it feels much too good, and even better after the excruciatingly long wait. your deserving pussy has been empty for so long, and now, your husband's dick is finally here to fulfil your appetite. you've made a plan: you're going to cum on his cock, and you're not going to allow him to do so much as spill a single drop. 

"g-gaara...hah," you breathe. "i missed having you here like this, baby," you call out through the echoing smacks of skin on skin filling the room. "you feel so good inside of me, my love."

the knot in gaara's stomach tightens at your words, as your dripping cunt rides him into oblivion. there's nothing but absolute desire in your eyes as you speak to him in your erotic daze. it makes him blush, and raise his hips to fuck harder against that gummy spot deep in your pussy. when you sink your hips, he lifts his. it knocks the wind out of you.

he looks up at you through half-lidded eyes, face warm with pleasure. "am i doing a good job, y/n?"

you look down at his eyes. "ah!-" you cry out, moaning ceaselessly at the feeling of his cock pressing relentlessly against your g-spot. "gaara, sweetheart, i can't get enough of you." slap! slap! slap! "nobody could fuck me like you do."

gaara's breathing gets heavier and heavier for every one of your praises, and for every thrust he makes in your tight heat. his left hand cups one of your jiggling breasts, rolling a hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. his right hand pivots to your pussy, using his thumb to rub firm circles around your protruding clit. you're not even bouncing on his cock anymore, leaving the work to gaara as you're too entranced by the pleasure.

"i would do anything for you..." he speaks between thrusts. "i love you endlessly." his hands come to your hips, keeping them stationary as he fucks you instead. your eyelashes are fluttering. you're rolling your eyes, and he can feel your pussy gradually getting wetter.

"i...i love you too, sweet boy. you mean so much to me, gaara."

he can tell that you're getting close. you can tell that he's getting close too, with his thrusts getting more sloppy and less focused.

"are you going to pull out?"

his heart skips at the question. "do you want me to...?"

"no, baby, don't. don't pull out," you whine. "i want you to cum inside me... okay?"

"i'll give anything you want." gaara sits up just to wrap his arms around you before laying back against the mattress, pulling you down with him. you're both laying chest-to-chest, arms tangled around each other as gaara continues to pound inside of you.

"gaara," you whisper in his ear, "i'm gonna cum..."

"oh, y/n... i'm getting close too..."

you're the first to reach your orgasm, with your pussy clamping viciously around gaara's cock. a breathless moan floats out of your mouth as you cream all over him, drenching him in sweet slick that leaves a ring around his length.

it's over for gaara when he sees your euphoric bliss, which in itself, triggers his own orgasm. he screws his eyes shut tightly, groaning in your ear as every muscle in his body grows stiff with his climax.

endless spurts of hot, white ribbons of cum pulse into your receiving pussy, with gaara's hold around your waist pinning you down on top of him while he fills you up. you're both sucking in gasps of air as you stay suspended in the aftermath of your orgasms for a few more moments. your clit is still pounding. his cock is still spilling cum.

"y/n..." he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips. "i love you."

"gaara." your fingers sweep through his dishevelled red hair, revealing the character on his forehead. "i love you too." you press a soft kiss on it.

sitting up as you were before, you pull his softening cock out of you, and you both watch as the cum slowly spills out of you. you smirk at him, and he doesn't know what to blush at.

you cast your attention to the clock on the wall. it reads half-past 10. you've been doing this for the past hour and a half, and there's still so much time to spare.

"gaara..." you cup his face. what time do you have to be up for?"

"i don't have to be up for any time, y/n. my schedule has been cleared for now."

your eyes widen. "...what?!"

"temari and kankuro convinced me to have a break... and they succeeded. i should've started with that. forgive me."

"don't apologise, baby. that's perfect!" you beam with joy.

"i'm pleased, y/n."

"i hope you know that i'm not going to give you a break, though." the hunger in your eyes return when you look down at him. "we have a lot of time to make up for." your hand slowly trails along his inner thigh.

he doesn't know how you do it. you've already made him hard again. a slight smirk graces his lips.

"i suppose we do."

a/n: nonnie i hope you enjoy this! this was very fun for me to write. feel free to send me more requests. tried to deliver something in the middle of finals and you can Lowkey tell where i ran out of steam ughhhh but it's all good!

You try not to chuckle, despite feeling flushed already. “I should hope so.”

Adam smiles—yes, the both of you settled on the name Adam as it carried a certain appeal to him. It was his very own name, something of his own, distinguishable from his dreadful past.

Oh, how you adored his smile.

“No,” he clarifies, still smiling. “Something… more.”

The way he struggles to say the word ‘more’, as if it is something shameful, it pains me in a certain way. Although the more you look at him, the more you come to realize that it most likely comes from a place of curiosity instead of shame.

And then you start to realize what he means.

“Oh,” is all you can get out, feeling more flushed this time around. Truth is, that more has been something heavy on your mind as well—for quite some time. You didn’t want to broach the subject with Adam, fully aware that it is a foreign concept to him and that it is, perhaps, something out of his comfort zone and out of his line of interest.

It seems as if you were wrong.

“What did you feel?” you ask, taking his hands into yours.

“I felt… a twitch. Down—down here. When you kissed me, something ached. A need... of some kind.”

You don’t know how to react more than a playful chuckle, suppressed—you wouldn’t want Adam to feel ashamed in any way or to have him believe you would mock him in any way. But you also cannot help the flood of heat and desire that races through you, coursing shamelessly through your bloodstream. Adam is unlike any other man you’ve ever met; granted, the may not be quite human, not quite man, but everything about him is so curious and kind and untainted.

Yet you long to for a stain in his purity, something akin to pure hunger that you can call your own. To claim him as your own.

“That is normal,” you breathe towards him, your pulse an erratic beat behind your ribcage.

“It is?”

“Yes. When you care for someone, and when you… develop feelings for them… it manifests physically.”

“Physically?”

You subdue a chuckle yet again; everything about him is new and enticing and enthralling, and you want to savor this moment, cherish it, preserve it and freeze it in time.

A moment where there is only you and him, together, and not a single threat posed to either one of you.

You nod. “Yes, physically. The body sometimes responds before the mind—at least, in men’s cases.”

“But I am not truly a man.”

“You are more man than anyone I’ve ever encountered.”

You cup his cheeks, Adam exhaling restlessly inside your palm. You’re not quite  sure when it all escalates or how; all you know is that Adam radiates enough warmth for you to tiptoe and press a sincere kiss on his lips, pulling him closer. He’s shockingly vocal, but you suppose it makes sense given how everything is anew to him. That’s how he treats you as well: a blank canvas waiting to be explored, filled with colors you wouldn’t have even dreamt of.

The more you kiss Adam and hold him against your body, the more you feel what he told you about; he’s rock hard at this point, and while you’re quite surprised that all of his bodily functions are intact and normal, you still moan in his mouth.

Which acts as a catalyst for him to evoke the same sounds, more guttural by nature, and end up atop of you. He’s eager, yet restrained; the same restrained curiosity you’ve grown accustomed to. He’s not wearing many clothes, which works in your favor as you work to undress him hastily, all the while with Adam huffing next to your ear, his shock at the sight of you never wavering.

“You are breathtaking,” he tells you, and you shudder at the sound of his voice, the thought of him admiring you so thusly.

You believe him; there is nothing in this world that would make you not believe Adam. You kiss him everywhere, not just his lips, hoping to get a rise out of him as soon as possible: his neck, his collarbones, his arms, all of which are, admittedly, uncharted territory to him, but upon hearing his groans, increasingly more desperate, you figure you’re doing something right. You take it upon yourself to remove your own clothes, albeit your dress proving to be a challenge in and of itself. But haste has its perks, for you move faster than you ever have with the fabric, including undergarments, and soon you’re left bare before Adam, aching and pleading silently with a single lustful glare at him. Your eyes drop fleetingly to his manhood and you gulp, utterly flattered to notice that he is hard and surely aching by this point.

“How are you feeling?” you ask him.

“It’s strange.”

“What is?”

“All of this… desire.”

You fleetingly smile, your legs spreading open further for him. His gaze drops, swallowing harshly.

“How do you know it is desire?”  you ask, half curious, half flirting.

“What else can it be when it comes to you?”

You pull him in again and again, kissing him till your lips feel raw and as needy as you feel. Your movements feel rushed as your hands roam freely around his body—surprisingly, he’s never been one to shy away from your touch, regardless of how you proclaim it—and each tug, each caress earns you a moan or a gasp from his side.

“If it is too much, you should tell me,” you tell him, catching his eyes staring in wonder between your legs.

“I’m not sure… what to do. What do I do?”

With a smile, you reach and undo his breeches, keeping your surprise to yourself—you figured Victor would’ve made everything proportional and as beautiful-looking as possible but fucking hell, this was a pleasant surprise.

“Do you trust me?” you ask him.

Adam nods incessantly. “Always.”

“Okay. Touch me.”

You don’t want to overwhelm him, so you take his hand and guide it to your pussy, smiling when you earn a gasp and a surprised face from his side. He caresses you, dragging his fingers through your soaked folds, earning soft gasps from you.

“It’s wet,” Adam remarks.

You chuckle, the sound earnest and pleased. “Yes. That happens to women when they desire someone.”

“You… want me?”

He sounds more than shocked; quite trifled and astounded. You nod frantically, by this point dripping with need.

“Yes, Adam. Always.”

He takes a while to process your words, but he does so nonetheless. It’s almost as if your words become law to him, something to tether himself to. 

“What do I do now?” he asks, his voice betraying both curiosity and fear.

“Here.”

You guide your hand to his cock, now fully erect, and he groans as you give it a few strokes and guide it to your entrance. His eyes are fully blown, as if he cannot believe what is happening and what is in front of him as of now.

Adam watches enthralled as you guide him further inside you, a pleasurable moan escaping your mouth as he thrusts inside you. Inch by inch, you swallow him whole it seems.

Fully sheathed inside of you, your mouth remains ajar as you stare longingly at him, unable to suppress the moans escaping past your vocal chords. Your whole body is afire, your face a canvass of your love and appreciation for your beloved Creature, and his face a combination of shock and lust.

“How does that feel?” you manage to ask him.

It feels like you’re going insane, utterly maddened by his curiosity, his sensitivity and love for you, all of which are undoubtable.

“Ethereal,” Adam murmurs, and leans over to press a kiss on your lips and forehead.

His movements remain mechanical. It is clear he’s unsure as to how to proceed, but his eyes, oh his big, wonderful and pure eyes, they remain locked on the movement of his cock between your legs. They seem to be fascinated by the way he fits inside you, and you are no exception to said marvel.

You try to move so that you meet with more of his hips, and you catch Adam by surprise with those motions; he stares in awe, almost aghast, at the sight of his cock thrusting in and out of you, and you moan as he does so. He doesn’t pose any questions anymore, he simply watches and follows your sounds, your scent and your movements. Soon he catches the drift, especially after one of your hands sinks its nails deep into his back and pulls him forward.

Thank goodness he feels little to no pain from this.

You mean to inflict no pain, you simply wish to sink into him, to have him and own him in primal ways, in caring and loving ways, those of which have not been taught to him by his creator. You both move together in a set rhythm, albeit stunted by it being a first time, with Adam’s eyes alternating between your face and your glistening pussy.

“Is this—good?” he asks, his face dangerously close to yours.

“Yes—oh gods, yes… so… so good…”

Words fail you in this moment of need, but you do not need them it seems. Your hands roam aimlessly on his back, the staccato rhythm of his hips more than a distraction or a want—a necessity; an insatiable craving, a hunger to be held, one you are more than certain Adam shares it as well.

You are very much aware of how touch-starved he is, and in so many ways, you reciprocate the sentiment. But Adam’s curiosity and lack of experience make him the perfect lover. It causes a stir inside of you, a storm brewing all too dangerously to the surface and an ache you found only he can soothe.

You feel him tense above you, a clumsiness about him that is more than endearing. He watches your every move, listens to every sound you make, in awe of how tender and warm you are, how malleable and willing in his presence.

A fact which will never not surprise him.

“Adam, wait,” you breathe, cupping his cheek.

On command, Adam halts all movements, blinking inquisitively at you.

“Have I hurt you?” he asks.

You feel a tug in your chest, eyes a little bit teary. By gods, you couldn’t stand the thought of someone so utterly soft and attentive by nature.

“No,” you smile. “You are wonderful. Do you trust me?”

“With my life. Endless as it may be. But it only means I get endless lifetimes to learn you.”

Breathless, you rise a little and shift so that now you are the one atop of him. Adam is evidently taken aback—one of the many endearing things about him is how he cannot hide a single emotion he feels for the life of him, endless as it may be, as he put it earlier—and you smile widely at him.

The stretch is glorious; Adam’s giant hands reach to your hips, resting there tentatively. He gazes upon your body as if he were charting a map, studious and careful, his eyes never absent of intensity and admiration.

“More,” he groans, mouth agape. “Please.”

And more you give: you start to move up and down slowly, taking every inch of him in a stretch that heats your entire body and causes your head to spin; Adam groans, the sound low and nearly pained from deep within, yet you know by watching him it cannot be that of pain. Adam tries his darnest to remain still on the bed simply because watching you take pleasure from him this way is maddening, but he finds that he cannot do so. He reaches up to meet you halfway, his fingers grazing your cheek. You cling to him, anchoring yourself to his broad shoulders as you keep riding him, and pull him closer. You find his lips in a rushed take, the kiss careless and despairing.

There’s a rush throughout your extremities, a wave of heat impossible to contain in your chest. You have never felt a fire like this one, an affection quite as strong as the one you carry for Adam. It stretches beyond the physical—although gods beware, simply feeling his cock buried inside of you so intimately and sweetly is reason enough.

He feels you tense, your movements more rapid and messy. He tries to hold you steadily, but he fails. Just as he had previously failed. And yet he realizes he does not care. He wants to see you break, he wants to see you come undone before him, with him inside of you. Something tells him you can take it—just as you can take him—and that you want to take it.

“Oh fuck—I am so close—“

He wishes to ask you what you mean, but words fail him. He feels, simultaneously, whole and fractured. He watches your face contort in what he presumes is pleasure, untethered, unashamed and whole, and he feels you quiver around him. You seize, the warmth of your walls clenched all around him, squeezing his cock in a tighter confinement.

And then he breaks.

In this moment, gravity is not what holds him, but rather you. You are all that he sees, all that he smells, craves and wants—and all that he feels. You are all that he feels as he spills himself inside of you with a roar that shakes the room to its foundation. You are all that he feels when his head drops in the crook of your neck, kissing every inch of skin his lips can trail. You are all that he feels as your hands cradle his head, tender and poisoned with raw need.

When your eyes find his again, they are as soft and as kind as you know them, yet they seem to contain something else as well. Something which you can also identify as of now.

Pleasure.

You barely move now, having felt him twitch and convulse inside you mere moments ago. Neither of you seems eager to break the touch, but you suspect Adam is much less inclined to do so than you.

“Can I stay?” he asks.

“What do you mean? Of course you can.”

“I wish to stay like this. For a while longer, inside you. You are warm and welcoming and…”

You cup his cheeks in your hands, your palms feeling the small ridges and indentations of him.

“And what?” you ask, kissing his nose.

“Mine.”