#(first time)

When it finally got through your pretty, doubt-prone skull that Clark Kent actually did have feelings for you, every move you made was calculated to monitor the progress of those feelings and track their intensity, so you could best discern how the trajectory of the relationship was going and and at which points new boundaries should be broken. And it was torture. Where you felt like dating was a rulebook, Clark saw it as an open canvas. He just wanted to let whatever happened happen, but he happily compromised for you.

He found you at MetU. He was visiting Chloe and Lana on a weekend, and before he even made it into the building, he tripped over a backpack on the ground beside a bench. Your backpack. As he knelt down to gather up your books and commit a blitz of apologies, he locked eyes with you– looking gorgeously pissed off. Plump cheeks, round hips, tummy stretching the soft cashmere of your sweater. Jeans with rhinestones up the leg. A little military-style cap that was annoyingly artsy and popular for the unusual year of 2006. Your eyes were hooded as they glared down at him, and your pretty blue nails brushed his palm as he handed you your books back. 

“Hi,” he smiled stupidly. 

“Don’t ‘hi’ me! You got mud on my textbook!”

Clark knelt back on his heels and grinned at you, titling his head as he studied the paper brick. “American Modernists? You’re better off.”

You crossed your arms, but a tiny grin began to betray you. “I happen to like the Modernists, thank you very much.”

“You look like you would,” he chuckled, and he finally stood up. Tall. My God, tall… broad shoulders, mop-hair, the most blue-green in an iris you’d ever seen…

“Strangers don’t typically pick on me.”

“I’m Clark,” he held a hand out. “There. Now I’m not a stranger.”

You hesitantly reached out to shake his hand– huge, huge, huge– and muttered back with immediate yield, “Hi, Clark.”

His fingers liked yours. He blushed a bit and hoisted you up from the bench, making your book tumble to the ground again. He flashed his sharp teeth in an innocent smile and said, “You’re pretty. You wanna tell me where I can find room 314?”

You blushed harder than him, book be damned. “How about I tell you my name first?”

He swindled you into a date that night. Before you knew it, you were swept up into the romantic whirlwind that was lovesick Clark Kent. 

He followed every rule for you. He’d do anything for you. He didn’t even try to kiss you until a month had passed– your cheek was fair game, your temple, maybe, but never your lips. Which made him salivate like a dog just to stare at. You had exactly eleven dates before he kissed you, and he did it like a gentleman, on the porch step of your parents’ house in Granville. Albeit, his hands wandered a bit, and you flushed so hard you forgot to breathe. He had to break the kiss just to laugh at how cute you looked, all disoriented like that. 

It had been over a year. You’d been giving where you could, but you were a reserved girl. You let him sleep in your bed a few times, consequently letting him see you in pajamas. You permitted sneaking behind a bookshelf a time or two to press you up against a wall and kiss you breathless. But that was really it. He didn’t mind taking it slow, especially since he was so enraptured by the girl you were. 

One of Clark’s most cherished parts of your relationship was how much you talked to him. Once you believed that he loved you, you opened up like a music box, leaving behind the tight-lipped concern to let him in. 

You told him everything– about troubles with your family, your struggle with your body image, your favorite books. How much you hated church and the way your parents made you feel guilty for not going. The things you loved and hated, the reasons you adored him. All of it. You laughed like an everlasting composition. Your eyes caught the moon in a way he didn’t have the words for. When you got angry with him, you got this little dimple in your brow that he loved to nibble away. Clark knew more about you than he did about himself, and in his customary and slightly unhealthy way, all he ever thought about was you. Every other sentence had your name in it, and it made Chloe want to punch him in his perfect teeth sometimes. He just wouldn’t shut up. You possessed his every thought. 

You’d gotten quite physical once he broke your barriers; you loved to cuddle, you loved to let him kiss you until words stopped forming, but the second his hands began to roam… you’d stop. You’d wriggle free and mutter sorries until he promised you it was okay. And it really was. He would never force you into anything. But God, sometimes he just wished you’d let him… it was so hard to keep his hands off you. You wore these jeans that squeezed you like they were glued on when he was taking you out for dates… Jesus. And every so often you wore this dress that he bought you for your three-month anniversary, this little number that had a milkmaid neckline. That was even more dangerous. Half because he got hard just seeing you in it, and half because you looked so happy that he got your size right that he fell in love all over again.

He knew that your fears about sex were abundant; your insecurities were numberable, for one, but you were also raised so religiously that there was an underlying guilt there, even as you grew out of it in college. It seemed no amount of feminist literature could completely strip you of your virginal mindset. 

So, yes. It was a little perverted. But Clark was a lover at his very core, and there seemed nothing in the world more special to him than getting to hold you, getting to make you feel beautiful, seeing that look on your face when he tells you how deeply in love he is while he–

He had to shake the image out so the blood stayed rushing to his face and not somewhere else as you laid your head in his lap, watching the old box television in the loft. 

It was late. His mother was in D.C. these days, leaving the house mostly to himself, but he still loved his barn. So did you. You had spent hours reading the books on his shelves, leaving little notes in the margin for him to find someday when he picked them up again. On nights like this, when winter wasn’t yet spring but it was tepid enough to let the barn latch fly open, you two would laze on his couch and wait until sleep hit you. 

Clark pet his fingertips over the roots of your hair, tracing the jagged line. You seemed a bit tense, eyes wide awake and trained exceptionally hard on the television. In fact, you’d been a bit strange all day since you got here. Spring break was coming to a close, so he thought perhaps you were having habitual anxiety about returning to routine. But when he tried to kiss you earlier, you sort of… dodged it. He put his hand on your back in the kitchen and you shivered. There was something in him, laying deep beside his sexual frustration, that felt a whole lot like guilt. Maybe you could tell how badly he wanted to sleep with you and he’d turned you off of him completely. He hoped to God that wasn’t true. 

As he traced your hair, he muttered, “You’re awfully quiet, baby.”

You just grunted in affirmation. “Mm…”

“Is everything okay?”

Your voice caught a bit as you nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”

You were, in fact, not fine. Because you’d been having dreams about sex with Clark every night for two weeks. 

It wasn’t your intention. You were sort of… wound up, after a date you’d had, and it just took hold of you. 

He took you to the Smallville Drive-In to of course do anything but watch a movie, and as he smushed you against the seat of the truck cab and kissed you, his hand did this… thing. Nothing crazy. He just took his palm– that big, warm, calloused paw– and he cupped it under your knee. He didn’t force you down. He didn’t ask for more. He just stroked the sensitive skin with his thumb, holding your leg, and dear Lord if that didn’t make you want to melt between the stitching of the leather. 

You dreamed about him hitching that leg up that night and taking what he wanted. And every night after, it went a different way. You and him in the loft, in the truck, in his bed, in the university library. His hand, his mouth, your mouth, much more. You were waking up absolutely tortured, with aching hips and a permanent flush, and it was making you clam up. Every time he touched you, you would get a flashback to something in a dream, and you burned so hot inside that you had to pull away for fear of telling him the dirty things you were thinking about. You were sure he could read it on your face, and you were terrified that after all your prudishness that if he discovered how badly you yearned, he’d think you were a liar– or worse, that you were doing it on purpose. Stringing him out, playing a game or something. You weren’t. But it was as if a switch flipped, and the fears you had about sex were gone– all you had left was the powerful desire to have it, and have it now. 

And this was Clark, wasn’t it? Clark, who worshipped you for some Godforsaken reason. Clark, who told you that you were pretty so many times that it more than supplemented anyone who had neglected to do the same. Clark, who listened to your every problem, who protected you from every panic, who loved you when you couldn’t sleep, or when you fought with family, or when you had a paper due and couldn’t stay on the phone long. This was the boy who got you out of the hole which made you think love was impossible for you. 

So what in the world were you doing?

“You know what? I’m actually not okay,” you muttered, sitting up slowly. You smoothed down your frizzed hair and slumped back into the couch.

Clark’s expression fell and he sat up straighter, twisting a bit to face you. His hand swallowed yours. “What is it? Is it something I did?”

“What? No!” You chuckled softly, a bit heavily. “No. No, it’s me.”

“You?” As if you simply weren’t capable of doing anything wrong, ever.

God, the look on his face was precious. So concerned. Those thick eyebrows knitting together, and his big eyes swelling with love. Lips parted just enough that you saw the sharp edge of one canine. You wanted to eat him whole. 

“I…”

Clark licked his lips. For him, it was because they were dry. To you, it set off alarms in your head. 

“You can tell me anything, bunny, you know that,” he cooed, lifting his other hand to brush some hair from your eyes. 

Bunny. Oh, you just couldn’t take it. 

“I want to have sex,” you blurted, bracing for some divine impact.

Clark blinked at you like a confused puppy, tilting his head as if deciphering a foreign language. That is, until a pretty rose wave washed over his cheeks, and you watched his adam’s apple bob. “You– you do? Like… sex sex?”

You laughed in mortification and nodded, hiding your face in your hands. “I– yeah. Yes.”

“I thought you were waiting,” he asked softly, strong fingers wrapping around your wrists to pry your hands from your glowing cheeks. 

 “Well, I was, but I just– I–” you struggled, chewing the inside of your cheek, “I’m done waiting now.”

Clark felt like he was getting raptured, maybe. Pulled up to Heaven on strings of love. His smile spread like butter across his face as he inquired, “What made you make up your mind?”

You swallowed nervously and avoided his eyes, instead redirecting to your lap. “Um… a dream.”

“A dream.” He quirked an eyebrow. His hand tested you by sliding up the soft curves of your side, fingertips resting where two rolls met. 

“A dream. A-about you.”

“Oh, really?” He purred, and you completely shut down. 

Whining in embarrassment, you turned from him and buried your face in the couch, grumbling. “Don’t torture me!”

Clark cackled and gathered your body back until he could press his chest to you, and he nuzzled your neck with his nose. “Come on, you made that so easy.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you flushed, tensing up a bit. Only when his arm wrapped around your middle and spanned your ribs did you melt. 

“Nothing is embarrassing with me,” he promised, kissing the patch of skin behind your ear that made your fingers flex. 

You wiggled the appendages and felt your skin burn hotter than it ever had before. “I just… I’ve been dreaming about… being with you. And– and I realized that, um…”

“That you can’t hide how horny you are anymore?”

You grumbled and tried to wriggle free. “Clark!”

“I’m just kidding! Kidding, baby,” he laughed, loosening his grip. He waited until you turned around to pout at him, and he used his thumb to play with your bottom lip. “Hey. That’s the look you gave me that day I knocked your book into the dirt.”

You saw how he smiled as if you were the only thing in the entire world that mattered, and it thawed the last of your resistance. You gave into that sheepish smile, because you were beautifully weak against it. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it,” you admitted, leaning your forehead against his. 

Clark pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You don’t have to be. I know how.”

You peeked a suspicious eye open at him. “Oh, do you?”

“Not like that,” he huffed, nipping your jaw. He placed a kiss, and another, and one more, down your cheek. “I just mean that I’m not worried about pleasing you.”

Your heart flipped. “Oh. Um…”

“Are you worried about pleasing me?”

Hesitantly, you nodded. You pulled back a bit to look in his eyes. 

“What exactly do you think a first time should look like?” He asked. 

The question was far more forthright than you expected– but truthfully, it was very Clark. He never shied from real conversations with you. Of everyone in his life that he’d kept secrets from, you were someone he never felt he had to. That trust was unbreakable. 

You played with your nails to try and expend some of the jitters. “Um… like… Well, I don’t know, I haven't really… y’know.” When Clark just gave you an expectant grin, you sighed and kept trying. “All I’ve seen has been in movies. Or in books.”

“Okay. Did any of it sound appealing to you?”

You winced a bit. “This is so–”

“Baby, listen to me,” he shushed you, pressing a thumb over your mouth. The way he said it was soft, but there was an undercurrent there. Firm. Almost… dominant. Something Clark never tried to be. You listened on instinct. “This is your first time. I don’t want anything to be a surprise, or make you nervous or afraid. I want you to know what’s going to happen. I want you to want anything we do together. So we have to talk about it. If you still feel embarrassed to talk about it, maybe you still aren’t ready.”

A soft panic flooded you and you eagerly gushed, “I really want this!”

He couldn’t help the way his cheeks darkened, but he miraculously kept his cool. “Okay, okay. Then just… take a deep breath and tell me what you want.”

You drew in some air, feeling it fill your lungs, and you knew that you just needed a little help. You threaded your fingers through his and murmured, “Can you just kiss me first? Please?”

Clark never needed to be asked. He leaned in happily, slotting his lips against yours nice and slow, and he could feel the kiss sucking your anxiety right out through your mouth. When he departed, he managed to distill your thoughts to only desire. 

Against his lips, you divulged, “I don’t really know the terminology for it. I’m gonna sound like an old lady.”

Clark snickered and sat back, tugging you with him until you sort of collapsed across his lap. He brushed your hair back from your eyes. “I can modernize it for you, dork. Just tell me.”

“Fine,” you propped your chin on his chest. “When I dreamed about it, um… you would… y’know, sleep with me, obviously. But you usually did some… foreplay.” 

You wanted to die just explaining it. He thought it was adorable. 

“Hands? Mouth?”

Your pupils swelled against your wishes. “Both.”

Clark smirked. “Oh. So you just wanna lay down and let it happen to you, huh?”

With a flustered groan you hid in his chest again. “Well, I don’t know!”

He tipped his head back in warm laughter before tugging your hair gently and making you meet his eyes again. “It’s okay. You’re lucky, actually, because I would much rather give than take. Plus, a blowjob might be… a bit overwhelming for you right now. And probably wouldn’t help me last.” 

You were both shocked and unsurprised at how easy it was for him to talk about this. “You think so?”

“Yeah. It might take practice, definitely some getting used to, and I’m… um…”

It was your turn to smile, albeit bashfully. “Big?”

Clark choked a bit on his next breath. “Yeah. Yeah…”

You rested your cheek on his chest and took a breath. Good news. Also terrifying news. What if you couldn’t take him? What if it hurt? What if–

“Hey,” Clark could feel your body tense. He stroked your arm and answered so astutely, you were afraid he could read minds. “I won’t hurt you, I’ll make sure you’re ready. And it’ll fit. It’s… biology. You, like, open up for it. If your body wants it. I’m pretty sure, don’t quote me.”

Oh, I definitely want it, you thought. Clark chuckled at the flash in your eyes. 

“Alright, how about this, okay? We can go into the house. We’ll go to my room, I can lay you down, and… y’know, explain what I’ll do. You can tell me how you feel. And then we can go from there.”

“Okay.” 

Clark kissed between your brow. “Don’t be nervous. It’s me, baby. I love you. I want you to be happy.”

“I know,” you hummed, finally giving up the first unrestrained grin all night. 

“There she is,” he praised. Then, without any warning, he hoisted you up off the couch.

You yelped a bit and wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging like a limpet. “Hey!”

“Don’t start,” he prompted, nipping your cheek, “You’re not lifting another finger for the rest of the night.”

That shut you up. 

—͙͘͡★—

Clark flopped you down on his old gingham bedsheets and crawled over you, settling his weight between your legs. He grinned at you like a puppy and kissed your stomach. You were red as a rose, but you were smiling. Less afraid. That was all he cared about. 

“Okay, blushy. Time for the talk.”

“Okay,” you ruffled his hair, coaxing your fingers through it playfully. 

Clark crawled up your body until he was close enough to nudge your cheek, and he anchored himself on his forearms above you. “Let’s get some formalities out of the way, because I know you, and I know these thoughts are seconds away. First, I don’t care if you haven’t shaved anywhere. Won’t bother me. I also don’t care if you haven’t showered, because currently you smell delicious, and you’re very clean, so–”

“Clark,” you giggled. 

“What? I mean it! Oh, and I also don’t want you to think you can’t make noise or move, I definitely want you to do whatever comes naturally, do not hold back–”

“Clark!” You covered your face. 

He laughed and shoved your hands away, kissing you softly. “What did I say, huh? If you couldn’t talk about it…?”

“I’m ready, I’m ready, I swear,” you smiled, “You just… fluster me.”

“Clearly.”

“Any other rules?”

“No. I think we can get down to business.”

You watched as he smoothed his palms down your thighs and up to your hips again, pushing his thumbs against your pudgy hipbones. You felt your stomach give a churn as he massaged the skin.

“This is gonna be about you. I’ll warm you up first. I’ll finger you and let you get used to that,” he watched how your cheeks nearly throbbed with blood flow, looking so flustered it was picture-worthy, and then he continued. “And when you’re ready, I’ll eat you out.”

Hearing him say things like that made part of you want to curl up from how dirty it sounded, but that part was completely mowed down by the rest of you, which found it brutally hot.

“That’s when you…?”

“Use my mouth,” he smirked. “Jeez, you really are uneducated.”

“Shut up. They didn’t teach us that part in sex ed, and they certainly don’t call it that in the books.”

“That’s because those Fabio books you read are from forever ago.”

“I like them!”

“They’re for old ladies,”

“The guys are really good, though. And the women… like this stuff, without shame. The books make it sound good. Easy.”

“Well, you’re gonna like this,” he promised with a wiggle of his eyebrows. You shoved his face playfully, watching him teeth at your thumb. “Be nice to me. I’m about to take your virginity.”

“I know.”

Clark nips your nose and concludes, “After all that, we’ll do the whole penetration thing.” 

With a shaky breath, you tried to remember procedure. “Do you have stuff for that?”

Clark rolls his eyes playfully and clambers off of you to tug open his bedside drawer. He pulls out a trail of foil and picks up a little bottle, but one look at it prompts him to say, “We probably won’t need this.”

“Why?” you chewed the inside of your cheek.

“Because, baby,” he purred, settling in beside you and tipping your head in his direction, “I don’t think you’re going to have much trouble getting wet.”

Your lashes fluttered a bit, and by the near-uncomfortable heat between your legs, you knew he was right. 

Clark pecked your chin, and then he pinched your cheek. “One more time for me, honey. Do you want to have sex?”

The answer came easy now. “Definitely.”

The soft enthusiasm in your voice made his heart thump, and he surged forward to kiss you as thanks. You found you didn’t need to try and turn your brain off as his hands mapped your back and sides, it just happened this time. That was proof enough that the time was right. 

Clark tugged you by your hips until you were flat on your back and he climbed on top of you, kissing you into the mattress. His knee snuck between your legs as you arched up a bit to loop your arms around his neck, tugging him down until you felt all two hundred and twenty pounds of boyfriend on top of you. 

“Someone’s eager,” he teased, mouth taking a detour down your neck. 

“Shut up,” you rebutted. 

“Never. I’m gonna talk you through it,” he grinned against the slope of your skin, “I’m the talker, anyway.”

“That you are,”

“And you’re gonna use your words for me, aren’t you, baby?”

Your body buzzed. There was that tone again. Commanding and considerate in the same breath. 

“Answer me,” he nibbled behind your ear. 

“Yes,” you complied. 

“Good girl. Not so hard, now was it?”

Oh, God. That was going to be the part of this that did you in, wasn’t it?

Clark was graciously taking his time, and it made you want to explode. He carefully mouthed down your collarbone and left arm, and you thought you might have to tell him to speed it up before you felt a paw pushing your shirt up to reveal your tummy. He lifted his head and raked his eyes over the valley of flesh, supple and soft, and he glanced up at you with the closest thing to a predatory look in his eyes as Clark Kent was capable of. 

“I’m obsessed with you,” he grumbled, before bending back down to attack your body with kisses and nips. 

You squeaked a bit and laughed as he pinned you down, kissing up your torso until his head snuck under your shirt and disappeared. Your breath hitched as you felt warm presses over the swell of your breasts, and Clark’s hands coming up to cup the cotton of your bra. 

“Clark,” you said aimlessly, and you suddenly had the burning urge to rip your shirt off. 

Clark nuzzled the dip between your breasts and breathed you in, mumbling into the skin, “Sit up.”

You followed orders, and up he came with you. He made no hurry to lift your shirt over your head, and he laughed a little when it tangled over your wrists. He kissed your embarrassment away and let his hand wander to the clasp around your back. 

“How naked do you want to be?” He panted, pulling back. 

You smiled at his care, and you shrugged. “I’ll take it all off if you will.”

“Mm, you wanna ogle me, is that it?”

You giggled at his teasing and tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Please?”

“And she begs,” he grumbled, yanking his tee off in one fell swoop before knocking you onto your back again. “That’ll be useful later.”

You felt a rush of heat wrack your body as he started to fuss with your jean button. He wasn’t shaking, he was sure. He was talking so smoothly. This was definitely, definitely better than the dreams. 

“I always loved these jeans,” he grunted as he tugged them down your thighs, “But they definitely look best off.”

“You’re bad,” you grinned. 

“The opposite, actually. I plan to be very, very good.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as he tugged your panties down with your jeans, leaving nothing to chance. The air conditioning rolled over you as he bared you completely, and you watched how he paused for a second, just to stare. 

You felt a small fear begin to grow, but he stamped it out. “God, look at you… Jesus Christ.”

You didn’t know what to do with your hands as he fumbled with his own jeans– this time shaking, but with something excited. You got a peek of his boxers– just black, but they were the tight kind, and you kind of wanted to make him sit there so you could stare at how they hugged the skin of his hips for hours. He pulled them off, though, and then your hands stilled on the bed. 

Clark saw the way your eyes immediately dropped, and he stifled a laugh. “I wasn’t trying to be cocky before.”

“My bad,” you muttered blankly, unable to tear your eyes off the look of him. Pink like the lipstick in your purse that was somewhere in his barn and bouncing a bit in anticipation. 

Clark was getting a bit embarrassed himself, so he fell forward onto his forearms again and he pressed a much gentler kiss to your lips, taking a minute to trace the seam of them with his tongue and coax you open. Your jaw widened in his palm, he felt the shifting bone. He smiled and breathed in the smell of your makeup, the foundation that had a rose-powder tinge to it. 

“I’m gonna touch you, okay, baby?”

You nodded eagerly, mind already reeling with what it could possibly feel like. To your dual delight and expectation, it just felt like fingers. For a moment. Just fingers, warm and a bit rough, brushing over the lips between your hips. It was like a tickle. But then you felt two fingertips breach the surface and drag through the slickness there, bottom to top, and they notched under the hood of your heat to press quite confidently against that bundle of nerves men notoriously struggle to find. Not Clark, apparently.  

You gasped and shivered, back shifting. You heard Clark groan, and he mumbled into your shoulder, “Oh my God. You’re so warm.”

Your knees jerked as he drew a circle with his fingers, and he soothed your side with his free hand, lifting up and leaning over you. He watched the way your lips parted as he found a slow rhythm, how your eyebrows tilted so pretty, and he smiled. “Feels okay?”

You struggled to spit out, “Yeah…”

“Good,” he beamed, and he pressed a little harder, rolling your clit between two fingers. As an involuntary moan slipped past your teeth, his eyelids drooped with want. “Oh, there she is… don’t get shy, let it out.”

You squirmed, knees drawing up and flattening out every few seconds. He didn’t restrain you, he only followed your movements so that his fingers never broke contact with you. “Jeez– oh, gosh, Clark!”

“Gosh?” He teased, stroking you frustratingly slow. 

“Don’t m-make fun of me right now,” you panted, hips bucking a bit, “Oh, God.”

“You’re doing good. You look so pretty.”

You gnawed on your lip and fisted your fingers in the sheets, trying to hold onto something. Your breath grew short as a buzzing heat built in your gut, and Clark seemed to sense it, so he drew his fingers back. When you whimpered, he kissed your chest. “Shh… you weren’t gonna last, bunny, I’m trying to make it last.” Obviously not long enough, though, because he quickly directed his attention to your entrance, tracing the spot curiously. 

“Oh, please!” you pouted, accidentally pulling a corner of his fitted sheet free from the mattress. 

“My God, somebody’s strong.”

“Shut up!”

Clark laughed and pressed smooches in a line down to your belly button. “Can I put my finger in?”

“Y-yes, I said please!”

“You did. Good job.”

You let out a pathetic breath as Clark pressed his middle finger inside you, dragging it back out again to feel the way your walls shifted and clenched. He grunted hungrily and started belaboring your hip with kisses before plunging it in again and curling it.

“Jesus!” You exclaimed, hips twitching and toes curling. You could thank the big guy now, since He clearly led you to the one man with fingers long enough to brush your g-spot on the first try. 

“Feel that? Right there?” Clark came up for air, and he prodded the spongy bit inside you with a grin. 

“Oh– mm-hmm,”

“Told you I knew what would feel good.”

“Mhm…”

“Man, they aren’t joking when they say that church girls are freaks–”

“Mmf- Clark, please…”

Clark watched you for a second as he thrust his fingers diligently between your folds, seeing exactly how much made your face and nose twitch. He called you bunny for a reason. There were a few strokes that came with a hard clench, and he could practically hear your heart pounding, so he smiled and nipped your hip. “I gotta ask you something, lovie, and I need you to answer. Can you answer?”

“Wh…hm?” You whimpered, the pleasure weighing your brain down. 

“Use your words.”

You stammered, “I… Y-yes.”

“Good girl. I need to know now before I go too long, do you want to come now or later?”

“Huh?” You swallowed, struggling to focus. 

Clark smiled a little softer and took notice, slowing his fingers to a stop. His hand intently moved up the mattress to lace fingers with you, trying to help you pay attention. He ignored your whine and restated, “Do you want to come now, or do you want to wait until I’m inside you, baby?”

“U-um…”

He couldn’t deny that he loved how hard you tried, and how preciously pathetic it was. His poor girl just needed some guidance, didn’t she? “I think you can survive two, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly. You’d do anything. Anything for more.

“Okay. Deep breaths, then.”

You were halfway through taking one before he thrust his fingers back inside of you and began a brutal pace; not rough, but not merciful. Your hand crushed his in an iron grip as lightning bolts shocked your body. “Ah!”

Clark watched intently, admiring how you fluttered around his fingers, and he swallowed a moan of his own. He pushed your thighs apart and pressed a kiss to your mound. 

“Gonna–”

“Yes,” you interrupted, thighs clamping around his head.

You felt his lips curling as he drew his fingers out and flattened his tongue against your heat, sealing you with his mouth. An immediate arch of your back followed, pushing you against his face as he sucked your swelling bud like he was starving. 

“Good lord, you’re sweet,” he mumbled wetly.

Your hands hesitated above his head, eager to tug but afraid to hurt, and he gazed up your body to meet your eyes. You moaned softly as he winked at you, and he pulled off to rumble, “Touch, honey, s’okay.”

 You threaded your hands into his hair as he dove back in, nudging your clit with his nose and swirling his tongue inside you. If you had half a mind to think right now, you would wager this was the happiest he had ever looked. 

Clark didn’t let up until your thighs were smushing his cheeks hard and you were bucking into him, crying out and biting on his shirt that was tossed near your head. Only when he knew you were on the precipice did he slow down, just to see what you would do. When he looked up, you almost looked pissed, and he laughed between your legs before pressing a third finger into your entrance and making you stretch for it, lapping at you in tandem. You barely lasted a few seconds, shaking against his face and letting out little wails into the shirt. He worked you through the orgasm, massaging your trembling thighs before unlatching his mouth and gently pulling his fingers out. He grinned as you deflated on his bed, and he wiped his slick lips with the back of his hand. 

Your vision was a tiny bit fuzzy as he prowled over you and brushed his mouth to yours, tasting salty-sweet, and you mewled as he tucked his soaked fingers past your bottom lip. A flame licked inside his belly as you sucked on reflex. You always did have gum, or a pen, or at the very least, your finger in your mouth… 

“Good girl,” he cooed, “Good girl. How was that, huh?”

“Good,” you purred around his fingers. 

“You still up for more? You look pretty beat.”

Your eyes fluttered a bit and you kissed his knuckles, smoothing your palms up his chest. “No… I want to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Clark’s heart pressed against his ribs as he kissed you one more time, whispering, “I love you so much.”

“Love you, too…”

He had to force himself to have patience for this, because he was about to get what he’d been dreaming of since he started dating you. He could only imagine the magnification of pleasure that would come from feeling what he did around his fingers, wrapping around his cock.

“One second, bunny.”

You laid there aching as you watched him grab a foil and tear it open, and you kind of wanted to offer to roll the condom on for him, but he was moving faster than you had the chance. Within seconds he was nestling his hips over yours, letting his length nudge your thigh, and he shuddered. Clark’s hands cradled your head. 

“Tell me if it hurts,”

“Okay,” you panted. 

Gently, he reached down to line himself up, and you felt the head of his cock kissing you. Like magic, your body just shivered, and as he pressed inside, you opened up like clockwork.

The two of you let out a joint sigh as he sunk into the tightness, and his face fell to your chest. “Holy…”

“Clark,” you moaned. 

You were the right amount of ready for him to just bottom out, and he did. All the way. So far in that he felt your spongy muscle throbbing against him. Far enough that you were convinced he was in your stomach. He let out a little whimper and pressed his palm to your chubby middle. 

“Nngh– good?” 

“Fuck,” was all you could say. But that meant Yes, no pain, so fucking good, I love you. 

Clark could barely handle one thrust before he was moaning embarrassingly loud in your ear, slipping his arms around your back to haul you into him, needing as much skin on his as he could get. You locked your legs around his hips and started smothering kiss after kiss on his face, tasting the little beads of sweat forming by his temple and ears.  

“Jesus, I’m not gonna last,” he swore. 

“Mmf– Clarkie, please!”

“Good girl, Christ, baby, you– you’re taking it so– mmf!” Clark cupped under your knee and hitched your leg up higher.

The move. Oh, fuck. 

You experienced a full-body tremor that made you clench tight, and it dragged a guttural whine from Clark. He rutted into you helplessly, fast and shallow and blissful. “You’re perfect, you feel so– mm– so good, bunny, so–”

“Clarkie, I–”

The heat was building way faster than you expected, and the sensitivity in your hips had you tensing and bucking like an animal. So much for making the first time last. 

“Baby, I’m– oh, f–!”

You muffled yourself in his shoulder and held on tight as his hips pressed you hard into the mattress, stuffing you with every lurch until he was whining into your hair and stuttering, cock seizing between your legs. A rush of pleasure made you wriggle and rock against him, not as overwhelming as the first, but equally as exhausting. You felt the warmth of something expanding between you, and a slight worry overcame you until you remembered he had a condom on. But then your curiosity peaked, and you gazed down to see soft white rings coating him. You turned beet red and slumped against the bed, feeling his weight pin you down as he caught his breath against the pillow under your head. 

Clark muttered hoarsely, “You are so unbelievably hot. Oh my God. You are… wow.”

You fell into a weak fit of laughter which melted into a whine as he gently pulled out, taking some of your mess with him onto his sheets. You flushed and draped an arm over your face. 

“M’sorry…”

“No, baby, don’t– don’t say sorry, oh, man,” he grinned, flopping beside you. He shoved you onto your side and jostled you back into a snuggle, and you laughed at his excitement. Clark pressed happy little kisses up your spine and neck. “Was cute. Pretty. Pretty girl, so good at that… mm, what a surprise.”

You couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your mouth. “I…”

“I’m happy, too,” he finished for you. 

“That was…”

“Amazing.”

“Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re entirely too energetic,” you giggled, eyes drooping. 

“Oh, I wore you out, is that it? I bet you’d hate it if I–”

You squeaked and jolted as he dug his fingers into your hips, tickling you gracelessly. You thrashed and rolled over, trying to escape, but he encircled your thigh with a hand and hauled you back until you were trapped on his chest. He blew some of your hair out of his mouth and laughed, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. Your skin was warm to the touch, eyes all glazed and glassy, and you looked down at him like nothing else existed. You tangled fingers with his palm in the covers.

He asked, “Worth the wait?”

You hummed, “Absolutely.”

“Wanna go again?”

“Oh my God, I had no idea you were prom king!” you exclaim with a wide grin, eyeing the framed photo hanging on the beige wallpapered wall. 

A hand suddenly sneaks around your head to cover your vision, closing your eyes shut and pulling you back against a hard chest.

“We don't talk about that,” Leon, your college boyfriend, grumbles in your ear.

You giggle, reaching for his wrist to pull away the manmade blindfold that is his palm. 

“Hey, let me see! You look cute!”

“I look stupid,” he huffs, finally dropping his hand when you grab it with yours. “I don't even know why I was picked…”

Keeping his palm in yours, you lean closer to inspect the picture where he’s standing awkwardly with his prom date, both adorning a sash and crown that indicate their awarded titles. It makes your heart warm knowing it was probably his mom who insisted on hanging the image in the family home. You can imagine him protesting while she puts it in place and the thought makes you snicker.

Turning to him with narrowed eyes and a sly grin, you squeeze his hand. “Really? You don't know why?”

He frowns, pouty lips growing poutier at your teasing expression and he shakes his head. 

“No, I don't know why, and don't give me that look that says you're about to say something ridiculous.”

Your smile widens and you turn to face him fully, taking a step closer so your chest is nearly pressed to his.

“It’s because you're hot, Einstein.”

Leon huffs out a laugh, turning his face away, though you catch the blush creeping up his neck as he does so.

You want to tease him further, but a yank to your intertwined hands pulls you along as he walks ahead towards the stairs.

“Come on, smartass, let me show you my room.”

Following in his steps, you can't help sneaking glances around his childhood home, taking in every detail of the place he was raised in. 

You and Leon grew up in the same city, but having never gone to the same schools, you never met until you shared a college class a few months ago, miles away from your hometown. Fate works in mysterious ways like that.

You remember he had sat next to you and asked for a pen, which you gave with a kind smile. It was only later he admitted to you he never needed a pen, but just wanted an excuse to talk to ‘the pretty girl who made it hard to focus in class.’ His words, not yours.

He has always been so sweet. Thoughtful too. From buying you your favorite treats to sending you good luck voice memos for your exams where he gets all sappy and cute, even if it's embarrassing. You still wonder how you got so lucky that your first real boyfriend is such a sweetheart.

After strenuous finals and a hectic schedule, you're both back home for the summer, and you couldn't be happier about sharing the same hometown—it really feels meant to be.

Entering Leon’s room, your eyes twinkle with excitement as you take in every detail of the place where he undoubtedly spent most of his time growing up. The soft glow of his bedside lamp makes everything warmer, giving the atmosphere an added hue of nostalgia.

You comment and ask questions about every intriguing feature. His Star Wars themed comforter, the medals from his track running days, the posters of his favorite bands lining the walls… Everything holds a memory you eagerly want to learn about.

Picking up a small figurine of Tony Tony Chopper to examine it closely, you don't see the way Leon watches you fondly from his spot on the bed, taking in the sight of you in his space.

“You know I’ve never really had a girl over in my room…” he smiles shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

Your heart flutters knowing you’ve never really been in a boy’s room either. Although you've been in Leon’s at campus, it wasn't the same with his roommate constantly around. 

With the both of you living in dorms, it's difficult to find a time and place to hang out where it's just the two of you. So this moment feels extra special, and you're excited to have many more like this the whole summer.

Especially if it means you and Leon will finally have your long anticipated first time together.

“Am I the chosen one, then?” you grin, feeling butterflies in your stomach when he stands and walks closer.

“I guess you are.”

Leon stops right before you, taking the old figurine from your fingers to look down at it with a chuckle.

“I think I was a bit too much of a nerd for any serious enough girlfriends to bring home.”

“I disagree. Nerds make great boyfriends,” you argue, tugging at the drawstrings of his hoodie.

He smiles down at you softly, reaching to hold your waist with both hands to pull you even closer.

“Did I tell you my parents aren't home tonight?” 

Your eyes flicker from your toying fingers to his handsome face, narrowing your eyes in mock contemplation.

“I think you may have mentioned that five or six times already, but I’m not quite sure.”

He laughs in response, squeezing your sides playfully, “did I now?”

“Mhm,” you hum, pulling the strings tighter to make him bend down enough for you to kiss his cheek.

The feel of your lips against his skin makes his heart flutter, and soon he’s pulling you flush against him to leave a tender kiss on your neck.

Leon hears your breath catch, and he leans back just enough to meet your eyes.

“But just so we’re clear… It doesn't mean anything has to happen, okay? I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“Trust me, Leon, if I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't be here… How else do you think I stayed a virgin until now?” you huff out a chuckle.

“Same way I stayed one too apparently.”

The both of you giggle, appreciating the fact you get to be in the same 'predicament’—something rare among your peers.

You feel another kiss on your jaw, then your cheek, before he lands one on the corner of your mouth with a smile.

“You want a tour of my bed next, baby?”

That makes you chuckle, swatting his shoulder sheepishly.

“You’re such a dork... But yeah, I would, actually.”

In response to your agreement, the arms wrapped around you shift lower to hold right under your butt and hoist you up in the air, making you squeal.

Leon is beaming from ear to ear as he crosses the short distance from his spot to his old twin bed, only to set you the mattress with a thud, your body bouncing on the sheets from the movement.

“Give me a minute, yeah?” 

He pecks your nose, making you scrunch your face in amusement, then stands up, leaving you momentarily alone in his bedroom.

You lay your head next to the printed Darth Vader on a pillow as you look up at the ceiling littered with pale green glow-in-the-dark stars—the room not dark enough for them to shine. You always wanted to have these growing up, and the thought of little Leon sleeping under them every night makes your chest warm.

The wholesome image isn't enough to keep your nerves at bay, though, when you realize this is the moment you’ve been waiting for for a long time. Or at least, that's how it has felt.

Ever since you both started dating, with him officially asking you to be his girlfriend on the third date, all you’ve been able to have were some heated makeout sessions and the occasional dry humping. Oh, and you let him feel you up under your shirt a couple of times—that was nice. Very nice, actually.

Your thoughts are interrupted by him coming back into the room with a set of bath towels and a large bottle of water. He awkwardly bunches the fabric in his arms to place on the nightstand along the water, and you can tell he’s more nervous than he’s letting on.

He sits beside you, a bit stiff, and you're hit with the smell of his cologne that he undoubtedly reapplied just now. The act is endearing, but you start to wonder if you should ask for a minute to do some extra pampering yourself too. Not that you would need it considering you had an everything-shower right before you left home to meet him. 

You’ve both anticipated this, even if it wasn't explicitly planned.

The scraping sound of his bedside drawer opening captures your attention, and you see him pull out a tiny remote with multicolored buttons. Although he doesn't take the rest out, your eyes catch the brand new, unopened box of condoms and a bottle of lube.

Goodness, it’s really happening.

“Just to, um, set the mood, I guess…” he mumbles and presses the red circle on the remote as he turns off the bedside lamp.

You’re suddenly plunged in a crimson hue shining from the LED strips lining the junction between the ceiling and walls.

“Too much?” he asks nervously when he takes in your surprised expression.

You chuckle, watching his now scarlet lit features. “Maybe try something cooler… Perhaps purple?”

He nods, pressing the indicated color with a click, and watches as the light turns into a violet glow. 

When he sees your smile soften, your eyes looking up to take in the change, he can't help but scoot closer until your thigh is pressed to his.

“You’re so pretty.”

His whispered compliment catches you off guard—not that you're not used to his usual sweet words that boost your confidence like nothing else.

“You're gonna make me blush…” you murmur with a flustered smile.

Leon, cups your cheek tenderly, then leans in to whisper against your mouth, “welcome to the club.”

The press of his lips to yours makes your heart skip a beat, and you return the kiss with fervor, reaching to place a hand on his thigh.

What starts as sweet slowly becomes passionate, and he nips at your bottom lip eagerly just to hear you whine like you do every time. You then feel the swipe of his tongue against the seam of your mouth, and you open up to meet it with yours. Both slick muscles brush against each other in a feverish dance once you establish a familiar rhythm.

His hand moves from your face to your waist, and he moans when you thread your fingers into his dirty blonde locks.

“Come here,” he mutters, shifting you so you’re straddling his lap.

The moment you do, you feel his erection press against your jeans, your own heat increasing as you grind down on him subconsciously.

“Fuck, baby…” his grip on your waist tightens, moving you in tandem with his own hip movements.

Between sloppy kisses, you find yourself bold enough to ask in a murmur, “can I take off your hoodie?”

Leon pauses, then leans back in just to gently bite your lip before answering, “you don't even have to ask.”

With his eager approval, you reach for the hem of his top and pull up both the hoodie and the tanktop he had underneath, too impatient to wait. Your breath hitches when your eyes roam his shirtless form, his fit torso making your mouth water.

He feels his whole body grow hotter under your gaze, and takes your hand to place it on his abs, keen for your touch.

“It’s summer, so you know what that means.” He bites his lip with a smile, his confidence soaring from the way you touch him hungrily.

“What?” you ask half focused, your attention still locked on his body.

“Pool dates,” he chuckles, giving your ass a light tap and grabbing the fat in each palm to grind you down on him again. 

You whimper, enjoying the heat of his bold touch. “Are you saying I’ll be seeing a lot more of you shirtless?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

You giggle, bringing both hands to run up and down his sides. “But that also means everyone else at the pool will see you too.”

Raising an eyebrow at your teasing tone, he responds by sliding his own hands under your shirt.

“Don't tell me you’re jealous?”

“Maybe a little bit,” you smirk.

Leon laughs at your playfulness, shaking his head in fondness. 

“How about this, I’ll keep an arm around you the whole time so everyone knows I’m taken… Plus, I need to make sure no one is ogling you for too long either.”

You grin as you picture the image of you both by the poolside, lounging in each other’s arms and enjoying the warm weather. The thought of showing off your hot boyfriend makes you tingle.

Feeling more and more worked up, you let a hand skim further down until it’s toying with the elastic band of his briefs peaking past his jeans. 

“Mhm, but they don't get to touch… Especially not here,” you whisper, letting your index slip under the underwear hem.

He sucks in a sharp breath in response, and you see the look on his face turn from playful to hungry again in an instant.

“That's right. They don’t.”

Leon crashes his lips on yours, kissing you messier than before with his hands moving to push your shirt up, pacing himself just enough to give you the chance to refuse if you didn't want him to.

When you don't say anything, and instead moan into his mouth, he groans, leaning back just to pull your top over your head and discard it to the side.

At the sight of you topless, he can't resist immediately peppering kisses on your sternum, mouthing hungrily at the valley between your breasts.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunts, sliding a hand to grab your left tit through your bra.

You’re trembling in need on top of him, feeling every cell of your body on fire. Every compliment, every kiss, every touch—only seem to serve to grow your confidence and want for him. So, you don't hesitate long before reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra.

The moment you slide it down and expose your tits to Leon’s ravenous eyes, you see his brain short circuit in real time at the sight.

“Baby… You’re gonna kill me,” he whispers, voice strained, then slides a palm to massage your breast with a moan.

“Leon…” you whimper, arching into his touch, and he decides to do the one thing he’s always dreamt of doing.

He latches his lips to your nipple.

The sound that comes out of you is pure sin, and he takes that as approval to keep going, suckling the soft peak in his mouth greedily. 

With his left hand, he fondles your other breast, then wraps his arm tightly around your waist to keep you in place as you continue to move your hips against his.

He keeps showering your nipples in attention, licking and sucking while you whine on top of him, feeling your cunt grow wetter and wetter while you clench around nothing.

With wet lips and a mind hazy with want, he lowers a hand to the button of your jeans, meeting your eyes with wide blown pupils.

“I wanna see all of you… please?” 

Biting your lip, you nod, “you don't even have to ask,” you parrot his words from earlier.

Grinning at your answer, he unzips your jeans and you shift off his lap to let him slide them off you, leaving you in your white, thin panties.

The fabric is so soaked it's become transparent, and Leon can't peel his eyes away from the outline of your dripping nether lips.

“Baby, I’ve wanted you like this for so long, I can barely think.”

“Maybe, take off your pants too?” you answer with a sheepish smile.

He chuckles and complies, kneeling between your legs on the mattress to unbuckle his belt. The sight of him looking down at you as he does so has you gripping the sheets.

Once his fly undone and his jeans lowered and off, you're awarded the view of his straining briefs as they struggle to contain his hardened cock. But what gets you even more turned on, is the wet patch of precum indicating just how desperate he is already.

Leon feels the searing heat of your gaze on him, and though he feels nervous, he doesn't let that stop him from hooking his fingers on your panties’ waistband.

“May I, my love?” he asks in an overly formal tone that makes you giggle despite your own nerves.

“Yes you may, my good sir.”

That's all he needs to pull the fabric down as you lift your hips, biting his plump bottom lip when it catches on your wet cunt from the stickiness. A final tug lets him lower them completely to reveal your glistening folds.

“Fuck.”

If his pupils were dilated before, they might as well be fully black now. He’s never been face to face with a pussy before, let alone yours, and he feels like he might drown from how much his mouth is watering to have a taste.

You reach to place a hand on the one he has on your thigh, seeking comfort from the vulnerability of being completely exposed to him for the first time. Only then does he take in a shaky breath to reassure you.

“Baby, I don't even know what to do with myself. You’re so fucking beautiful and sexy… I mean, fuck, look at you.”

He brings a tentative thumb to brush over your puffy lips and watches you shiver at the contact.

“Listen, I don't really know what I’m doing, so, uh, please tell me if I do something wrong,” he murmurs nervously, his hands trembling slightly against your skin.

“Actually, I have an idea…”

You adjust the pillows behind you until you're propped up in a half seated position, your legs bent at the knees. He lays between them, on his stomach, staring at you mesmerized.

“I’ll show you how I do it.”

You reach down and take his hand in yours, just to place his digits on your needy clit, barely breathing as you guide him. Your face is so hot you can feel your temples throbbing, your heart beating so fast it might stop. It’s that mix of excitement and nerves that makes you lightheaded.

With your guidance, Leon is able to circle your sensitive bud with the pad of his thumb, watching you intently for every reaction. When he hits a particularly nice spot and you moan, he feels his hips buck against the mattress under him before he can even stop them.

“Shit… Is this what you do when I call you at night? Tell me, baby, please.”

“Yeah, Leon… This is what I do when you get me worked up.”

He makes a sinful sound at your admission, the thought of you looking like this when he’s whispering in your ear about all the things he wishes he could do to you, making him twitch.

“Can I taste you?” he asks suddenly, unable to pace himself anymore.

When he sees your wide eyed, shy expression, he quickly starts blabbering nervously.

“I-I mean only if you want me to! I just— I’ve wanted to taste you for so long, and I know I’ll probably suck b-but I watched a lot of videos to learn, and, um, I can maybe try, unless that's not—”

“Yes,” you cut off his rambling with a shy voice, “you can do it… I-I want you to.”

Leon’s breathing stutters, grateful that the purple lighting is hiding his intensely blushing face.

“Okay. Just tell me what feels good.”

With that, he leans his face closer, his breath hot against your quivering cunt. Then, he sticks out his tongue and licks a broad stripe along your slit that makes you jerk with a whimper.

Looking up to meet your eyes, he does it again, tongue deliberately slow as he groans, taking in every twitch and tremor while savoring your taste.

Your breath hitches, your fingers digging into the fat of your thighs. “Fuck, Leon—” 

He gets greedier with every sound you make, lapping at your juices like they're the sweetest thing he’s tried.

“R-right there!” you whine when he licks over the hood of your sensitive clit.

“Yeah? Like this?” he mutters against your folds, giving another eager lick.

When he sees the way you react he tries something he’s seen many times in porn in hopes you like it. Gently, he holds your lips apart with his thumbs, then seals his mouth over your bundle of nerves. 

He begins to suckle the delicate flesh experimentally, keeping his eyes locked on your face for any hints of discomfort. The moment you mewl in approval, though—bucking your hips into his touch—he tightens his hold on you to steady you, and starts sucking and licking more confidently.

The new sensations make you dizzy, the pleasure unlike anything you’ve felt before. You’re not experienced enough to know if he’s doing it correctly, you just know it feels good and that’s enough of an indicator he’s doing something right.

Any lack of skill is made up for by his intense enthusiasm, and soon enough, you’re getting closer and closer to orgasming with every swipe of his tongue, the very image of him between your legs already bringing you close.

“Stay right there, fuck, d-don’t change anything,” you whimper when you feel yourself about to tip over the edge.

Leon keeps the fast strokes of his slick muscle that appear to be pushing you to climax, not stopping to rest despite his jaw starting to ache. He does not care, because seeing your undoing under him is everything to him at the moment.

A few seconds later, and he’s making you cum for the first time, your hand flying to your mouth to try and muffle the loud noises leaving you uncontrollably as you writhe under his greedy mouth.

“Leon…” you pant once the high passes, looking down at him to find him smiling up at you softly between your trembling legs. “That was… Holy shit.”

He chuckles and kisses your mound, sliding his palms under you to give your ass a squeeze.

“You taste so good. I could keep going if you want.”

The proposition makes you whine, though as tempting as it is, you can't wait to feel him inside you.

“Come here, please.”

You open your arms, beckoning him closer, and he doesn't hesitate to crawl up your body to kiss you feverishly as he settles on top of you. The taste of yourself on his lips is sinfully addicting, and you don't hesitate to sloppily collect every trace of it off him.

Grinding his hard cock against your heat, you feel gentle hands roam your body, touching everywhere like he can't get enough. You do the same with your own fingers grazing up and down his broad back, tracing every muscle, mole, and freckle on his warm skin.

“I almost came just from watching you fall apart… You looked so sexy, I was humping the mattress like a dog,” he whispers with a small laugh.

You bite your lip with a smile, tightening your hold on him. “That would’ve been really hot.”

“More like really embarrassing,” he huffs sheepishly, then lets his fingers trail down until they reach your sopping cunt again. “I wanna feel you first.”

Breathless, you open your legs some more to grant him easier access, the movement making an obscene, slick noise.

“Y-yeah, me too… Do you wanna try fingering me?”

Leon groans in pleasure at the sound of that and nods eagerly. He readjusts to lay next to you on his side, one hand brushing your hair while the other stays on your waiting pussy.

You reach down to guide his middle finger into your entrance slowly, your shaky breaths making your chest move in tandem with your breathing.

Once his digit is inside up to the first knuckle, you let go of his hand and watch him bite his lip as he slowly pushes inside, pausing every other second to check your reaction.

“Shit, babe— you’re so fucking warm,” he can't help but moan, mirroring your own whimpers at the feel of a part of him inside you.

“Keep going… It feels nice,” you whine.

When his finger is fully nestled inside your slippery hole, he leans his head down to latch his mouth onto one of your nipples again, and begins to gently move in and out of your cunt. The moans you make only spur him to continue, slowly picking up speed the more your walls relax.

Leon can't believe your pussy feels this soft, wet, and tight on his finger alone, and he’s already losing it imagine that feeling around his neglected cock. But he knows he needs to prep you first. He’s learned as much as he could about first times from the internet, and even posted on r/AskReddit to seek every bit of advice he can get. He wants to make this good for you more than anything else.

When the slide of his lone finger is easy enough, you stroke his hair and murmur, “I think you can put in a second one.”

He nods, still mouthing at your breasts, before slipping a second digit inside you just like you asked. When you moan at the feeling, your tight walls hugging him, he can't stop himself from pressing his lips to yours again just to swallow every sound.

“You feel so good, baby. You’re so soft and so fucking wet.”

Every whispered word makes you whinier, your pussy greedier, until he’s steadily finger fucking your slick heat without hindrance. He even tries a slight parting motion inside you to stretch you a bit more, and his hips buck instinctively against your thigh when you moan louder at that.

After several minutes of prepping your hole, sucking your nipples, and making out with your whiny mouth, you feel that Leon has done enough to prepare you for his patiently waiting dick.

“Okay, babe… Let’s try. I think I’m ready.”

He releases one of your peaks he was suckling with a wet pop, meeting your eyes with hungry ones. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Your assured tone has him suppress a moan as he nods in return. He slowly slides his fingers out, making you whimper, and he doesn't hesitate to bring them up to his mouth for another taste of your cunt he’s already become a fan of.

Reaching for the waistband of his now ruined briefs from the precum wet patches, you watch him lick every drop of your slick as you lower his underwear slowly. 

He groans, immensely turned on by your initiative, and he watches you peel off the last layer separating your naked bodies. He kicks off the garment once it reaches his ankles, and holds his breath when your gaze drops down to his now sprung free, hard, leaking cock.

“It’s, um… big.”

Your nervous, candid comment makes him choke on his own saliva. He hides his face in the crook of your neck to let out a shy laugh that slowly has you relaxing to join him with a chuckle.

“Sorry, I sounded like a bad porn actress.”

Lifting his head to look down at you, he smiles sheepishly, squeezing your waist. 

“You kinda did. But hey, I’ll take the compliment…” he grins, voice trailing off before his expression morphs into something more serious. “Unless you’re worried or something, which I understand… I mean I can just use my fingers again, we don't really have to do the full—”

His words are cut off when you wrap your fingers around his throbbing length, making him hiss out a low ‘fuck’ as he looks down at where you're touching him.

“It's softer than I thought,” you comment with a small, reassuring smile.

“Y-yeah?”

“It's soft, and warm…” you whisper, using your second hand to stroke the back of his thick head of blonde hair. “Feels nice… Maybe I can taste you too?”

His eyes snap up to yours, lips parted in surprise. 

“That would be—fuck—that would be so hot… But I’d definitely cum too fast, babe. I’m already feeling a lot with just your hand. Shit.”

You can't help but feel a bit disappointed you won't get to have him in your mouth, but you understand why he would be reluctant to let you do it.

“Okay. Next time, then?”

Leon shakes his head out of pure disbelief at how perfect you are. He’s never felt better about waiting for the right girl, despite always feeling like an outcast amongst his peers who constantly bragged about all the dirty sex they're having. Though, he doubts most of it is true knowing how locker room talk tends to be a pissing contest half the time.

“Yes, baby. Definitely next time.”

With one more peck to your lips, he reaches for the condoms and lube in his left-open nightstand drawer. He then quickly tears open the box and takes out one of the foil packets, and prepares to tear it open.

You stop him mid movement with a playful grin, taking the blue square away from him. 

“I’ve always wanted to do this.”

He raises an eyebrow, then laughs when you rip it open with your teeth, putting in more effort than necessary. You then pull out the rolled up latex circle and look at it curiously, before you look at your waiting boyfriend again.

“I wanna put it on you.”

“Please.”

Leon has to stop himself from humping the air like an animal in heat when you sit up to grab his veiny cock again. 

You begin to fiddle with the condom, only to realize you’re attempting to unroll it around him in the wrong direction, and the both of you giggle as you fix it for a proper fit.

Once the protective barrier is on, he kisses your cheek as a ‘thanks,’ then grabs the bottle of lube that he flicks open with his thumb.

“Maybe now’s a good time for the towels,” you mutter and reach for the fluffy fabric that you place under you before repositioning yourself on your back.

Leon then squeezes the lubricant with a loud squelch like ketchup, directly onto his bobbing dick, that he then lathers with his free hand. 

That makes you snicker, finding the sight amusing, and he huffs out a laugh in return before squirting some more directly onto your waiting hole, the cold sensation making you gasp.

“That's what you get for laughing,” he teases, then kisses you again just because he can.

Finally, he positions himself between your legs once again, bracing himself on his elbows and shuddering when his sensitive tip brushes your inner thigh.

“I’ll go slow, I promise,” he whispers with a hand moving to hold his erection, the other stroking your hair.

“I know.”

With your sweet smile, you help guide him towards your entrance until his tip is aimed correctly at it, before moving your palms to rest on his waist.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he mutters.

Then, slowly, he presses in just enough for his cockhead to notch into your opening.

You both let out needy noises at the pleasurable feeling, but it's only when you nod that he pushes in a bit more, his fingers twitching in your locks.

“Still okay?”

“Y-yeah, don't stop.”

You take slow, deep, breaths with every inch that he slides in deliberately unhurried, your virgin cunt hugging his own virgin cock so warm and tight he feels like he’s dreaming.

“Holy fuck— y-you feel so good.”

Pressing his forehead to yours, every ragged breath of his fans on your lips as he continues to steadily breach open your untouched pussy. It's overwhelming how full you feel but the pleasure overshadows any discomfort, and you know the reason you’re not experiencing pain like so many of your girlfriends warned you about, is thanks to his loving and caring approach he’s shown from the start.

“Leon… I love you,” you whimper, suddenly feeling overtaken by emotion when he manages to fully settle inside your clenching heat.

“Oh, baby…” he whispers, a hand moving to cradle your face. “I love you so much… You have no idea.”

Intertwining your fingers with his, you give him the okay to slowly start moving after a moment. Just enough to get you adjusted to the new feeling of having your walls penetrated.

You tilt your chin up to indicate you want a kiss, and he complies with no hesitation, the both of you moaning into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last that long, babe.”

Leon knows the fact he’s managed to not burst after who knows how long spent in the sheer presence of your naked body, let alone touching it, is already a lifetime achievement for a first timer like him.

“Do it. Wanna see you cum, wanna feel it,” you whine under him, moving your hips the slightest bit to meet his shallow thrusts.

“Fucking hell—”

Your words and movements break him, and he can't hold on anymore. 

On more thrust, two, three, and then his cumming with a drawn out moan, his fingers tightening against your skin as he loses himself. Spurt after spurt of creamy spend shoot into the latex barrier of the condom while you shake under him. You only wish you could preserve this moment forever, just to rewatch how beautiful he looks on top of you.

He finally stills, panting, and doing his best not to let himself crush you with his weight, then gives you one more peck on the lips before slowly starting to pull out.

You make a small noise at the feeling of being emptied, and you watch him carefully remove the filled condom, just to tie it up and let it drop in the small trashcan under his desk to deal with later.

“Pro move,” you grin sleepily, feeling exhaustion catch up to you.

“You know me, the expert condom handler,” he laughs.

Leon uses the second towel to clean your inner thighs then himself from any mess as much as he can, while you lay there feeling like a drowsy princess.

But before you can get too sleepy, his hands find your thighs again, and he smiles down at you.

“Do you think I could give you one more? I can use my fingers.”

You bite your lip and nod, feeling giddy at the idea of getting to cum by him again, especially after already getting so worked up from him inside you.

He lays next to you like before, but instead of letting his fingers in, this time he focuses on your clit, watching your breathing slowly get more labored again.

You give him a few adjustments, until he figures out where to press to elicit the loudest moans out of you, and he keeps going with no intention to stop until you climax.

In addition to the steady strokes, a few tweaks to your nipple with his free hand and a wet suck of his mouth to your neck, and you’re cumming again. This time, you don't cover your mouth, letting him hear exactly what he’s doing to you.

When you’re finished, body trembling and exhausted, he immediately moves to cuddle you, peppering kisses on your forehead and temple.

“You're so perfect, I can't believe I got this lucky to be your first…” He pauses in his words to hold you tighter, suddenly feeling a surge of protectiveness. “I hope it went well for you like it did for me… I didn't hurt you or anything, right?”

“No, Leon. Trust me, I would've told you if you did,” you caress his cheek reassuringly before leaning in to kiss him again. “It was perfect. You are perfect.”

He smiles softly at that, feeling himself relax at your gentle assurance.

“I love you, baby. More than anything.”

“I love you too, Leon.”

Reaching a finger to boop his nose playfully, you can't help but tease in a playful tone.

“Can't wait to spend all summer learning how to be freaky together.”

He laughs sliding a palm down to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Hell yeah.”

not so forced proximity • steve harrington

two months ago, you despised steve harrington. two months ago, the thought of skipping school with steve harrington would have been ludicrous. actually, just the thought of it would have had you laughing your ass off. you had hated him all throughout high school and middle school. his cockiness, ego and the way he always just assumed he was better than everyone else was enough to have him on your bad list, for life. insufferable jock that he was, would enjoy getting under your skin and know exactly how to do it.

now, however, as much as you hated it, the thought of not having him around was almost unbearable. some things in life just made people grow much closer, in a very short amount of time— seven foot demon-like monsters, a murdered cat and driving nails into baseball bats were some of them. another— a really effective one— was blindly jumping in to protect a small, chubby nerd with no teeth— your brother, and for some reason— also begrudgingly— steve harrington’s new, close friend.

two months ago, steve harrington saved your brother’s life and now it was pretty hard to hate him…

you had ridden your bike to school with dustin, pausing briefly to wish him a good day, before hauling ass to the high school. you unfortunately had a tendency to be late to school, blaming it on the undeniable fact that you were a responsible sister and always saw your brother— and usually his friends— safely to the middle school. hawkins wasn’t as safe as it used to be, after all.

steve was at his locker already and you subconsciously picked up the pace upon seeing him. you grabbed his shoulders and shoved him playfully. steve yelped, flinching and nearly dropping all of his books. you snorted, grinning at him in amusement. he was pretty jumpy for such a tall guy and a well known jock and alleged tough guy.

“holy shit, henderson—“ steve’s panicked expression softened when his eyes landed on you. his mouth twitched up into a smirk and he knew just by looking at you that whatever you were about to say was trouble, “what now?”

“i need you to come with me.”

steve set his books back in his locker and sighed. he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, hand on his hip, expression amused trepidation.

“alright…”

steve had stopped questioning things. admittedly, steve would blindly follow you off of a cliff without so much as a complaint. however he would never tell you that: your ego and self confidence was already much too high and there was also the possibility that you would hit him.

steve followed you wordlessly, allowing you to tug him along by the sleeve of his jacket. he paused when you stopped at his bmw, eyebrows raised in silent questioning. you just stared at him, raising your own eyebrows in answer, gesturing vaguely to the locked passenger door. steve sighed and unlocked his car, opening the door for you before climbing into the driver’s seat.

“where are we going?”

you gave steve the address and he started driving, once again, without question.

“you’re absolutely sure about this? some eccentric, conspiracy theorist, crazy, freak is going to be able to help?”

“i don’t think he’s a freak… the chief knows him.”

steve parked in the driveway, muttering slightly, “well, in that case…”

he jumped out after you, grabbing your wrist in caution, “this looks like an abandoned warehouse.”

“what a perfect place for an eccentric, conspiracy theorist, crazy, freak to live..”

steve rolled his eyes and you bit back a laugh. you headed to the front door and steve grabbed your arm, “wait— what are you doing? you don’t think someone that lives in a creepy warehouse will have booby traps?”

you just raised your eyebrows at him, expression dull, “booby traps? like in a spy movie?”

“i dont know!” steve looked at you with an exasperated huff, “he probably at least has guns or something!”

you just smiled slightly, the slightest hint of amusement on your face. he was being overprotective again. it was rather endearing and charming when it was with dustin, but you could take care of yourself…

“fine, whatever– forgive me not wanting you to get shot or kidnapped or worse…”

you held back another smile and knocked on the door, “i would like to think at least one of us could take him in a fight… given there are no booby traps or guns, of course…” you paused, almost laughing out loud at his defeated, slightly embarrassed expression.

“identify yourselves.”

now it was steve who laughed at you, for jumping at the voice in the loud speaker.

“um—“

you glanced around stupidly for a camera.

“above you, you idiots—“

damn. rude…

you craned your neck and spotted the camera, now feeling very stupid to be being seen. you stated your name and then steve’s, feeling more awkward and impatient by the second.

the door opened and a man in a bathrobe was studying you both. you reflexively took a step back, bumping into steve’s chest. he certainly didn’t look like a kidnapper or worse; but with his unbrushed curly hair and unkept beard, he did look rather crazy.

“state your buisness…”

“um, we have some information on the disappearances… and.. weird shit…”

murray stopped, looking between the two of you with narrowed eyes, “how did you find me?”

“we know jim hopper….”

murray scoffed, sorted, “not good enough.”

he slammed the door.

you scoffed, gaping in surprise. your fist tightened at your side, irrational anger starting to bubble inside you, “excuse me—“

you pounded on the door again, now pissed.

there was no answer, so you started pounding on the door harder. steve shifted beside you, glancing at you anxiously, very much hoping you were not about to be shot.

“asshole!” you pounded once more and the door opened.

murray looked irritated, but mildly impressed, “you’re awfully persistent.”

you just stared at him, sticking out your chin slightly. “you have no idea…” steve said it quietly, letting out a weak, nervous laugh.

murray narrowed his eyes, “were you followed?”

“no..?”

“are you sure?”

“we weren’t followed.”

steve was starting to get irritated, now understanding why this guy was known as crazy murray.

murray stepped aside and opened the door, glancing over your shoulders, triple checking that no one was around.

for an abandoned warehouse, the place was surprisingly normal inside. it looked like a normal house, just with a few extra weapons and equipment that you were sure only dustin could name. “you say you know the weird shit… start talking.” murray went off on a tangent, starting to rant about commies and russians. you exchanged glances with steve; maybe this wasn’t a good idea… “it isn’t russians.” steve looked mildly impatient, “you’re right about the disappearances not being coincidences, otherwise you’re way off.”

murray stopped, slowly turning to glare at both of you, “and why the hell should i take the word of two teenagers skipping school?”

“because we can prove it? otherwise you wouldn’t believe us.”

steve severely hoped the brief detour to your house and his now blood streaked trunk was worth it… he opened his trunk, and murrary stepped back instinctively. in his defense, it did look like a dead body wrapped in the tarp. technically, it was… steve folded the tarp off the head of the demogorgan and murray took a sharp intake of breath. he stumbled forward, hand on the tarp, staring down at it open mouthed and wide eyed.

you waited for him to scream. you waited for him to freak out and run away and send you two off with a gun. instead, he put his hand on trunk and turned to you two, slowly.

“who needs a drink?”

you watched murray pace, anxiety growing as he incessantly walked back and forth, muttering to himself with a drink in hand. you and steve argued as you tried to tell murray everything. he would leave things out, you would get a detail wrong and the constant correction and bickering made murray stop.

“you two are cute…”

you stopped mid sentence, feeling like you had whiplash, “i— what?”

“no, god— it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. i think you’re adorable. your curls and his eyes, god imagine your kids—“

steve had choked on his drink and was now trying to pretend he was not about to aspirate and had unknown, strong alcohol coming out his nose. you took a moment to take your horrified expression off of murray to pat steve on the back, wincing slightly at his sputtering and coughs.

“we aren’t—“

“oh, no— we—“

murray narrowed his eyes and leaned back, “interesting.” he raised his glass again and drained it, “very interesting… okay— if that’s how you want to play it…”

you almost scoffed, now tempted to knock the drink from his hand, “there’s nothing— can we just get back to why we’re here?”

steve had drained his own glass, grimacing as the liquid went down his throat. he didn’t meet your eyes, just stared at murray with an unreadable expression.

murray did eventually drop it, not bringing it up for the rest of the day. “oh shit—“ you caught steve’s wrist as he leaned over for another pencil, “shit—“ you hadn’t even realized how late it was. you hadn’t even realized how long you had been at this. writing, phone calls, filling murray in on any gaps in the story.

steve ran a hand through his hair, “shit— your mom’s going to kill me.” you reached over his arm and grabbed the phone, “my mom will never know you had anything to do with this.” the phone rang once, before a sharp answer, “where the hell are you?”

“dustin? why are you still up?”

“are you with steve?”

“dustin— get mom.”

“she’s asleep. i told her you were at the wheelers with nancy…”

thank god. you really did love your brother…

“thank you, dustin. thank you… i’ll fill you in on everything tomorrow, i promise.”

“i don’t want to know anything about what you and steve are doing together at eleven p.m.”

“dustin! this has nothing to do with steve.”

“is steve with you..?” you could hear the doubt and amusement in his voice.

“he just drove me here. and he’s helping— it doesn’t matter. goodnight, dustin.”

“goodnight. tell steve that if he gets you pregnant i’ll kill him. you’re bitchy enough…”

“i swear to god— dustin—“

the line buzzed, already dead and you huffed.

murray was sitting at the kitchen table, grilled cheese and water sitting in front of the empty places, “sorry i’m not much of a host.” his voice was slightly amused, not looking up from his sandwich. steve sat down, keeping his eyes fixed on murray like he still expected him to pull a gun out at any moment. you ate in silence, feeling more tense and on edge than you had this morning when you were still wary of booby traps. “thank you for your help…” you gathered up the plates and moved to the sink, washing the dishes without waiting to be told not to. you sensed someone behind you and slowly glanced over your shoulder, slightly worried you were about to get into a conspiracy theory tangent.

but it was only steve. he held a dish towel awkwardly, wiping off the dishes as you finished washing them. he stood in silence, eyes not meeting yours. you wanted to ask him why he was drying the plates and putting them away, but instead you just turned back to the sink, silent.

steve’s hand brushed against yours as he hung the towel back up. his breath caught and he tensed just for a moment. your eyes snapped to him and your cheeks heated up when you caught him looking back at you. he dropped his gaze and stepped back, clearing his throat. “do you… uh- need anything?”

steve was still standing so close to you. you were positive he had stood this close to you a million other times, but none of them had ever seemed this obvious or suffocating. the room had gotten increasingly warmer and you almost asked if murray had turned up the heat. he had gotten taller over the summer, you suddenly realized. his hair had gotten taller too— which meant it had gotten longer. his face was losing the soft features of his teenage years and you realized how startling sharp his jawline was.

steve said your name and you flinched. shit. what? “you okay?” his eyes were soft, knit with slight concern, “you’re just staring at me… like i grew a second head or something.”

oh.

“oh… i’m sorry.. i’m just tired, i think… long day.”

steve nodded, still eyeing you as you brushed past him. “thank you..for letting us stay the night.” steve hesitated by the couch and murray finally looked up, “yeah, yeah… don’t make it a habit to come sneaking off to uncle murray’s…”

oh, he wouldn’t.

“goodnight… thank you. again…” you disappeared down the stairs, feeling anything but tired.

“there’s a pullout couch in the other room. across from her’s.”

steve glanced at murray, eyes narrowing slightly. he was suggesting. clearly implying something… “thanks…”

steve took two steps towards the basement steps before murray spoke again, “you want my advice?”

steve really didn’t. steve watched you disappear around the corner at the bottom of the stairs and almost had half a mind to follow you. there had been a moment… just inches from you where he almost thought— he felt—

“skip the pull out, my friend…”

steve nearly fell down the stairs, “i’m sorry?”

murray was smirking innocently from over the top of his glass, “you’re an idiot if you sleep on the pull out.” murray stood up, set his glass down and then patted steve on the shoulder on his way past, “goodnight…” murray gave steve a final wink, before disappearing around the corner and leaving steve standing in the dark with a racing heart.

you closed your eyes, leaving the lamp beside the bed on. you tossed and turned, flipping over several times. you huffed, kicking the blankets off of your legs. you were in a new place. that was the reason you suddenly didn’t feel tired at all… you were in a new place, practically by yourself, in a strangers house with only steve harrington as a witness. at the thought of steve, your pulse lept and you swore. you muttered a few curses before sitting up. you turned the lamp off, thinking maybe total darkness would actually be better. you closed your eyes and settled back into the bed. once again, you thought of steve. steve harrington, just across the hall, by himself, unsupervised…

you covered your head with the pillow and groaned. steve was probably asleep already; exhausted from the day and likely tired of you constantly dragging him on wild goose chases with minimal explanations. you turned the lamp back on and sat up, crossing your arms again with a frustrated huff.

steve was not asleep already. he was far from exhausted, and he was the furthest thing from tired of you. he was pacing around the room, knuckles fisted, pressed against his mouth as if he was holding in a scream of pain. his hand brushing against your own had felt like an electric shock. it had been an accident, he knew. still, his mind dwelled on how you had dragged him along by the sleeve earlier and he cursed himself for how much he wished you had dragged him down the stairs and into the spare room—

fuck–

no—

steve cursed and sat back down on the pull out couch. it was less comfortable than most floors he had laid on; definitely less comfortable than the back seat of his car. he debated just going back upstairs and sleeping on the normal couch— or maybe even at this point, his back seats. but steve wouldn’t leave you alone in this house, even if he was parked outside like a sentry. the couch it was then. god knows he wasn’t going to get a second of sleep on a pull out that was all springs. god knows he wasn’t going to get any sleep at all, knowing you were just across the hall, a mere few dozen footsteps away…

with a groan, he stood up again. he wished he had a flashlight, as he attempted to strain his eyes in the darkness. all he saw was the light coming from under your door, and it was barely enough to safely navigate him to the stairs. steve’s hand was on the railing when the basement lit up completely. you had opened your door, now crossing the room at a brisk, determined pace.

steve felt numb as he watched you practically march towards the door to the room he was supposed to be asleep in. his feet moved before his brain had a chance to be filled in on the plan. you hadn’t even noticed him until he stepped into the dim light, away from the stairs. your mind had been too fuzzy, walk too brisk, compass much too dictated by historically dangerous feelings.

steve stopped just in front of you. barely conscious of what he was doing, himself. his chest was nearly against yours, staring down at you with caught breath. his posture was tense, rigid hands and knee trembling just slightly, as if he were fighting against restraints that weren’t there.

your breath caught in your throat and you tried to swallow. your chest felt as if it were going to burst and you swore steve could hear your rapid heartbeats. you swore they echoed through the entire basement, reverberating in your chest and head like a bass.

“i couldn’t sleep—“

“i’m not going to be able to sleep in there—“

you spoke at the same time, breaths catching. your eyes slowly trailed up his chest, watching in slow motion as your hand reached for him. his eyes found yours and the same storm reflected behind them from your own. there was trepidation, anxiety and softness, but then— so quickly you felt like a carpet had been pulled out from under you– there was desperation. there was hunger, possessiveness, need and something slightly feral.

steve’s hands were on your waist as your own found his chest. it was good that you braced yourself against him, you realized immediately. his lips crashed against yours and your legs nearly gave out. it was so intense— he was so intense— that your head started spinning. you desperately brought your mouth back against his, breaking apart only to deepen the kiss, tongues and teeth fighting for dominance over each other. you understood now, what kisses were always supposed to be like. you understood now what you were supposed to feel about boys. and, even more dangerously, you understood what your mother had always warned you about, incessantly, sharply, about losing all sense of control when things get too heated…

you had never found that side of this. you had kissed boys, you had made out a few times, but this was all new. the way your body felt like electric currents ran through it, the way you felt like you were burning from the inside out. you couldn’t get close enough to him suddenly, you couldn’t seem to kiss him fast enough. suddenly the clothes between you felt like restraints. suddenly you needed him to touch you and hold you against him and—

your back hit the mattress and you couldn’t even remember moving back into the room. steve was over the top of you, mouth unyielding, lips swollen and slick with both of you. steve hesitated, pupils already blown, chest rising and falling like he had run a marathon. “tell me when to stop…” his voice was ragged, strained, like he had to force the words out. your fingers tightened around his bicep as his mouth moved from your mouth and trailed down your jawline and your throat. you gasped, feeling his mouth close against your skin, closing your eyes against the very evident mark he was leaving against you.

you shuddered beneath him and moaned. your body tensed, embarrassed, horrified, then too lost in the feeling of him against you. you pulled his shirt off, steve shuddering against your knuckles sliding against him. your shirt followed shortly after and you gasped again at the feel of his mouth gently against your chest. you had never gone this far with anyone. you had never wanted to go further than this…

your fingers hesitated against the waistband of his jeans and his breath shook. his mouth left your skin, head slowly lifting to meet your eyes. steve looked down at you softly, his eyes burned with desire, desperate and needy and already missing the feel of you against him.

“are you sure…” steve’s voice was so soft. his eyes were so gentle and full of concern and softness that your breath faltered. you could have cried at the way he was looking at you.

you nodded, breathless, growing desperate. your fingers slid under his waistband and your head spun at the sensation of his skin beneath your fingertips. you slid your hands gently forward, now finding the button to his jeans. steve grabbed your wrist softly, expression turning cautionary, almost scolding, “are you sure?” his tone was firmer, more desperate, “i need to hear a yes. i don’t think i— if i keep going, i don’t think i’ll be able to stop…”

the air left your lungs then, like it had been vacuumed out. your fingers halted, loosening just slightly on his zipper. you had never done this. you had never wanted to do this… “yes.” steve’s hands tightened on your hips, eyes darkening slightly, “yes…” you pulled his jeans down slowly, past his hips and below his knees. your breath caught again, the room suddenly seeming to disappear entirely until it was just you and steve.

“i’ve never…..”

steve froze, eyes darting back to yours, softening. he swore quietly, pushing off you to sit up. you almost grabbed him to stop him, but steve didn’t go far. he looked down at you, expression soft, “we don’t have to— go further… not tonight…”

you shook your head, “steve…” he took a slow breath, watching you softly, eyes glossy. he was waiting for you to change your mind. he needed to make sure you were absolutely sure. he needed to know you meant it. and it wasn’t just because of the circumstances…

“please…”

steve kissed you again, slower now, less needy, less messy and frantic. this time calculated, slow, still desperate, gentle. he slowly fell back down against you, returning soft kisses to your bare shoulder and chest. you closed your eyes, forgetting everything except the feeling of him against you, his mouth on yours, his breath against your skin, the way he held you gentle but possessive. and the way he took his time. loving, gentle, sensual and somehow still completely desperate for you.

you fell asleep on top of him, head on his chest, legs kicked out on either side of him. steve’s arms were around your waist like you might disappear overnight. you woke against his ribs, face nestled securely between his arm and his side, held close, held securely. you placed a slow kiss on his chest before even opening your eyes, shifting to lay across him again. his arms wrapped around you again, pulling you closer. his heart beat sped up beneath your cheek as you placed another lazy kiss on his chest.

steve woke up in a start, jolting slightly, both arms steadying you as if you were in danger, “you okay? did you sleep okay?” oh, you had slept. and you were just a little bit more than okay…

you knew, before you even walked up the stairs, that you looked guilty. it may as well have been written across your faces. steve carried himself much too proudly, his expression was much too alert for just waking up in a strange place. your head did not feel connected to your body and you didn’t even want to acknowledge what the lower half of your body was doing…

murray had made breakfast and you doubted his reclusive, hates people and hosting face even more. he sat at the table, salting his eggs, eyes fixed on the paper. “good morning…” his tone was pleasant, light, almost singsongy. there was a hint of suggestion there, too—

steve sat down across from you, still looking much more refreshed and rejuvenated than he should. you lifted the orange juice to your lips and took a drink. it nearly came right back out… murray flipped the newspaper over, pushed his glasses up with one finger, “how was the pull out?”

satoru's dorm room is a mess of scattered energy drink cans and unfolded clothes, but tonight the chaos feels rather intimate. you've been together for three months now- breaking the rules between missions, sweet lisses and ENDLESS teasing that always ends in both of you wanting more. both of you are eighteen, both virgins despite all his cocky talk and tonight the tension you've been holding for so long finally snaps.

his kisses are hungry and passionate- his tongue slides up against yours and you feel his groans in your mouth. your knees are start to go weak; heat floods between your legs when you feel him smirking into the kisses. he backs you towards the bed, hands already under your shirt, palms sliding up your ribs. every touch sends tingles down your spine, to your core. his hands roa all over your body, tugging at your clothes. he takes your shirt off and you can finally catch your breath. he stares in awe- eyes wide at your bare chest, rising and falling rapidly due to your heavy panting, your breasts bouncing with each breath. the next second his mouth is on your nipple while his hand is playing with the other. the sudden wet heat makes you cry out; pleasure shoots straight to your core. he switches sides, teeth grazing, and you feel yourself getting more and more wet.

you yank his shirt off. the moment your hands touch his bare skin he shivers, he's burning hot. god, naked satoru gojo was such a sight... the way his abs flex, his defined arms... everything about him is perfect. you drag your fingers down his stomach and his dick jumps inside his boxers- you feel it against your stomach through the fabric. he kicks his pants and boxers off in one frantic motion; his cock is long, thick, flushed dark, leaking steadily and he stares at you like he’s starving.

satoru flips you onto your back and drags down both your sweatpants and panties in one smooth pull. he lines himself up, tip pressing against your entrance. he slowly pushes in one inch: you gasp; he freezes. "holy shit-- y-you feel insane". he feels every ridge of your inner walls gripping him, pulsing and he's trying his best not to slam forward into you.. but he can't resist. your hips twitch up instinctively as he slides the rest of the way in with a hoarse moan, bottoming out completely. his forehead drops to yours; both of you pant, bodies locked together. he stays still, perfectly still for ten full seconds, just breathing through the overwhelming heat wrapped around every inch of him. he's obsessed. fully obsessed with you and the way you make him feel. “i’ve never… nothing has ever felt like this,” he whispers, voice wrecked.

he starts moving- tiny rocks at first, barely pulling out an inch before sliding back in. each micro-thrust hits the perfect spot inside you, your clit grinds against his length on every downstroke. pleasure spirals higher; your nails dig into his shoulders. he groans every time you clench. "yes--just like that- fuck—"

and the pace builds up gradually. slow pushes turning into steady, deep thrusts that make the bed creak softly. you feel it—the way he’s right on the edge. he’s never felt anything like this, never been inside anyone, and the heat of you, the slick grip of your virgin pussy around him, is unraveling him completely. he feels it- every flutter, every squeeze-and his control slips. “fuck,” he growls. “you feel too good—can’t—” he cuts off with a brutal snap of his hips, driving into you so deep the bed slams against the wall. he's mean with it now, his pelvis slamming against yours in rapid motions. at this point you can't even kiss each other properly anymore, you're both moaning and groaning into each other's mouths. the room is filled with the sound of his skin slapping yours and the sloppy, wet kisses. you can feel you're about to reach your climax: "i'm gonna-- toruu--!" you come first, walls pulsing around him, vision whiting out as you cry his name. another shiver wracks him, his cock pulsing inside you, dangerously close.

he follows seconds later—burying deep with a choked groan, spilling inside you hot and thick. you feel every stroke, the way he grinds to push it deeper, like he wants it to stay.

“again,” he pants, voice hoarse with hunger. “i need to feel that again.” he doesn’t pull out. instead, he flips you onto your stomach in one swift motion, your cheek pressed to the sheets, ass lifted slightly. he re-enters from behind in one long thrust; the new angle hits deeper, stretching you fuller. you moan into the pillow as he groans loudly, hips snapping forward. round two is harder, faster— he’s not gentle anymore, not with the way he’s thrusting, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you that sends sparks up your spine. your eyes start to flutter, the pleasure building too fast, too intense. it hits you like a wave, crashing over every nerve, and before you know it, your eyes roll up into your skull as the world blurs out. all you can feel is him, his thick length buried deep, pulsing against your walls as he drives in again and again. satoru's rhythm stutters. his breathing turns ragged, almost panicked. “fuck—fuck--fuck, i can’t i'm gonna—” he slams in one last time, his release spilling hot and thick inside you.

finally, he pulls out.

you both collapse onto the mattress, breath coming in heavy gasps "hah-.. holy fuck-- *gasp*.. that was amazing.." he says, panting.

after slowly coming down from the overstimulated high, you turn your head on the other side and meet his gaze. he's all sweaty and looks like he's ready to fall asleep. he puts his hand atop yours and you both just stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds... it feels like you two are the only people in the world. you've actually never seen him this worn out and tired before, but you're certainly not complaining. he's actually really cute when he's calm and relaxed like this; plus it's a perfect opportunity to admire his features. everything just.. fits him so well. the way his hair falls in messy over his forehead, the tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes that only show up when his smile is actually genuine, the rare sight of his eyes looking dreamy and unfocused, GOD his eyes are literally breathtaking. you can't help it... you start smiling without even noticing.

he chuckles.

"what?" you say as you start giggling.

"what? can i not be happy?"

"did i say you couldn't?" you reply, booping his nose.

"c'mon.. we gotta shower" you're not even sure why you said that. your legs are probably not even functioning at this point. besides, you're way too comfortable in the state you're in right now: the wind blowing through the window, not too cold, not too fierce, the warmth of his bed, and his hand gently caressing yours.

he shifts on his back and whines, squeezing his eyes shut "nooo, i don't wannaaa.. let's just do it tomorrow.."

"y'know what, alright." you laugh softly and let him wrap his arms around your waist, nuzzling his face into the back of your neck.

a peaceful quiet settles over you both. his breathing slowly evens out, deep and steady against your neck. just before sleep claims you too, you feel his lips brush a lazy kiss against your shoulder, and his fingers give yours one last gentle squeeze.

in that moment the rest of the world feels... very far away.

camp here and there “when you die you will rot” art by @/grimmdew

youtube video by “Sarah David Baker” on youtube, it’s very good

tma quote from mag 32: hive

songs by hozier and noah kahan (my two personalities basically)

And based on the way Caleb groans whenever you shift in his lap while kissing him, he does too.

You place a searing kiss to his jaw before clumsily crawling off his lap and sitting beside him on the couch, knees curled underneath you.

Caleb whines, leaning toward you like he wants to chase your lips. "Hey, I wasn't done," he pouts.

"Mmn.. I know," you murmur, reaching out and rubbing his chest. "But..."

Caleb's lip tugs in a curious smile, his eyes lingering on your hand for a moment before going back to you.

"I just thought that maybe..." you drag your hand lower, finding the bulge in his pants and palming him softly, "we could do something else?"

Caleb groans, pushing his hips into your hand like he just can't help himself. "Fu—mm—" He bites back the curse crawling up his throat. "Are you sure?"

You nod, all sweet and slow and innocent and it makes him buck into your hand again with a huff. He knows it's pathetic. All you're doing is palming him, but it feels so good.

"Because you don't have to do this," he rasps. "You don't have to do anything you don't—"

"I want to, Caleb."

He has to fight everything in him not to grab your hand and show you just how he likes it. To keep your hand there and just get off by rolling his hips.

"Yeah, okay."

When you watch him shift back against the couch and spread his legs to give you better access, your confidence wavers.

"I just.." You keep rubbing him through his clothes, drinking in every little twitch and breath. "I've never done this."

Caleb huffs out a small breath. "Okay.. You want me to help?"

You give him a shy nod, and Caleb gently grabs your hand and presses it harder against the bulge in his pants. You gasp, your eyes widening at just how hard he feels when you really press down.

"Like that," he breathes, slowly guiding your palm over the hard line of his cock. You nod, keeping the same pressure he taught you as you slide your hand up and down.

"Am I doing it right?"

Caleb lets his hand fall away and groans. "Yeah. Yeah, you're doing really good."

Your hand never stops moving, palming him in clumsy but eager circles as you lean in and kiss him. Your whole body lights up at the way he breathes into your mouth, caught between sighs and moans.

You want more.

Slowly, you slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and tug on them. "Can I…" You pause, breathing shakily against his lips. "Can I try… for real?"

Caleb's eyes go dark, his lips trembling as he tugs it between his teeth before nodding. "Only if you want to."

You give him another shy nod, already tugging his pants and boxers down his hips. "I want to. I want to make you feel good, Caleb."

Caleb almost whines at your words. How is he supposed to keep fighting himself when you sounded like that? When you're so adamant about pleasuring him?

He helps you tug his pants and boxers down just far enough to free his aching cock. A blush spreads across his cheeks at the act of being so vulnerable, but he feels better when he sees the look of pure awe on your face.

He looks so pretty like this. Bare and glistening and all yours. It makes you throb in your cotton panties.

But this is all about him.

Nervously, you wrap your hand around him. He's so hot. So… sensitive. You almost pull back when he hisses.

"Did I do something wrong—"

"No," Caleb quickly says, grabbing your wrist with a shaky hand. "No. You just… you feel really nice, Pips."

You can't help the proud smile that tugs at your lips. "Really?"

Caleb nods, wordlessly pulling you into a greedy kiss and rolling his hips into your hand.

You sigh into him, your heart pounding when you feel the first drop of precum slide down your hand. "Tighter," Caleb husks, reaching down to squeeze his hand around yours. "You can be meaner about it."

You pull back to look at him, your face hot. "Like—Like this? This is okay?" You stroke him again, your grip tighter.

Caleb gasps, "Yes, Pips. Yes, just like that."

You move your hand in clumsy, slow strokes. "I'm sorry I keep asking so many questions," you whisper, your eyes darting down to his lap to watch the angry head of his cock push through your fist again and again.

It's so obscene.

So messy.

You squeeze your legs together.

"Don't apologize." Caleb grabs you and crushes his lips against yours again like your lips are the only anchor he knows while you unravel him.

"I like it. This, you—fuck—feels good."

You swallow hard, emboldened by his breathy little words. "Can you keep your hand on mine?" you ask between kisses.

Caleb pulls back, eyes half-lidded and glossy, lips covered in a sheen of saliva and parted with his small huffs.

"Just to teach me?"

The way he's looking at you now—with nothing but pure adoration and lust—it makes your mind reel.

You chew your lips and glance down again, experimentally rubbing your thumb over the tip, smearing his arousal across the angry tip of his cock.

Caleb shudders, his hand tightening around yours.

"Fu—Teach you?" He holds his breath. "You're already so—"

"Please."

How can he say no?

He tightens his hold on your hand. "Yeah. I'll teach you. Whatever you want." He glances down, biting his lip when he sees the way your hand barely wraps around his cock. "Even... if… you're already doing so good."

You shudder, instinctively pressing yourself closer.

He's getting slicker, more precum pearling out the tip and staining your hand. You never thought he sounded prettier than he does right now, moaning and groaning like he just can't help it.

Then he adds a gentle twist at the top that makes him lean his head back and whimper.

"Feels good?"

"Really good," he whines, his chest heaving with his uneven breaths. "You can… hah! You can also grab my.."

Caleb can't finish his sentence, too preoccupied, but he wordlessly grabs your free hand and guides it down to his balls.

You bite your lip, your thighs squeezing together. "What—? What do I do?"

"Just… just squeeze 'em. Just a little, just—Fuck! Like that, like that! Pips—" His hips buck up, fucking himself through your fist. "Oh, God…!"

Your whole body burns as his face pinches with pleasure. You had no idea he had this side to him.

But you know you want to make him come undone. Want to hear every sound he's capable of when he's on the edge. When he's so close it drives him crazy.

You stroke faster, and Caleb lets you, his hand passively resting on yours. You're so caught up, you don't even notice, but you feel him twitching, hear him breathing heavier.

He's close.

But you still want more. Just a little. You don't care if it's selfish.

Your heart pounding in your ears, you whisper, "Can I taste you?"

Caleb blinks, eyes wide. "What? You want to…?"

You nod, already easing your hand away and slipping off the couch to kneel between his legs.

Caleb watches, a strained gasp leaving his lips as you press a kiss to his inner thigh. "I want to… I haven't done it yet, but I really wanna try…"

"Yeah," he exhales shakily. "Yeah—fuck—whatever you want, Pips."

He shifts his hips, fingers digging into the couch when you lean forward and kiss a teasing line up his cock. You stop at the sensitive head and dart your tongue out to taste him.

Warm. Thick. Salty.

Caleb groans into his lip, his hand shooting out as if to grab you, but he stops just above your head, fingers twitching.

"Fuck—I thought you said..." He doesn't finish, too focused on the way your mouth feels when you kiss the swollen tip. His breath stutters, cock twitching like he's seconds away from rutting into you.

"What?" you murmur, blinking up at him.

Caleb growls and turns his head to the side. "Don't look at me like that."

You lean in, kissing him again. "Why?"

Caleb tears his hand away from you, bringing it up to his face because he can't trust it to be near you anymore. "I'm trying to be respectful."

You smile, a little more confident now that you're getting to see Caleb how wrecked you can make him before you've even properly put your mouth on him.

"How respectful can you be when I'm on my knees for you?"

Caleb finally turns back toward you, barely holding himself still. Barely stopping himself from grabbing you and forcing your pretty mouth on his cock.

"Pips."

"Caleb." You press yourself closer, sliding your hands up his thighs, soaking in the way they flex under your touch. "I don't want you to be respectful. I just want you."

"Pips—You can't just—Are you sure?"

You nod, eyes big and pleading.

Caleb trembles. "Do you know what that means? What you're letting me do by saying that?"

You know. You know and you still want it. But you stay silent, because you know Caleb will tell you what he wants to do. And when he does, you can agree. Let him know just how much you want anything he'll give you.

"I'll fuck your throat until you're drooling, until you're crying." His warning sounds hollow, even to him. Because as respectful as he wants to be, he wants this. You—your mouth.

He wants it badly.

"Is that what you want?" Caleb's voice is strained.

"Yes. Yes, Caleb, and I want it. I want it so badly.."

That—your breathy whine, the way you melt into him when you say it—that does it. He fists his hand in your hair and drags you closer, your lips grazing his cock now.

Caleb lets you hover first, just for a second. "Tap me if you need to stop. Grab my wrist, push me, whatever works. I'll stop, okay?"

"I won't ask you to."

Caleb groans. You were going to kill him.

Without another word, he slowly eases into your mouth, his head tipping back as he feels your warm mouth wrap around his slick flesh again.

You're careful not to scrape your teeth against him, but it's hard to focus on anything when all you can think about is how good he stretches your mouth. How good it stings.

You moan, your brows pinching with effort as you try and take every inch.

Your throat works around him, tears already brimming in your eyes when he finally kisses the back of your throat. Caleb holds you there, his eyes fluttering shut and his chest heaving.

Then he pulls you off with a small gasp, before guiding you back down, slower this time. "You feel so good." He pants. "I want to stay here forever."

His dick twitches at his own words because he knows you'd let him. You'd let him stay here, buried in your mouth as long as he wanted, wouldn't you?

Caleb can't hold back anymore. With a guttural groan, he starts rutting into your mouth, his fingers curling painfully in your hair.

"You're doing so good for me, Pips," he croaks, sweat clinging to his brow. "Taking me so nice and deep..! Oh, fuck!"

He's shouting mindless filth, too stung out to care about how dirty or disrespectful he sounds anymore.

“And you look so pretty like this, on your knees in front of me—"

You moan around him, savoring every muttered word like it's the sweetest treat you've ever had.

"Wanna come in your mouth so bad."

You clench at his dirty words.

He grips you tighter, the sounds of your pretty gags bouncing off the walls. "You gonna let me?"

You can't nod, so you just blink up at him and try to hum a yes.

Caleb takes the cute bat of your eyelashes as a yes and ruts faster. "Fuck—! Such a good girl for me! Can't stop!"

Caleb's breaking. He's ruthless, chasing his orgasm with a single-minded focus, fucking into your mouth even as he apologizes. The contrast is filthy.

"Feels too good to stop, baby."

You moan around again and he hisses as the sound shoots up his spine.

"Especially when you moan—" he breaks off on a sound caught between a whimper and a groan, his hips coming off the bed while his hand pulls your mouth back on his cock like it's just some toy.

You're gagging, tears streaming down your cheeks, and drool smearing across your chin. You grip his thighs for support, barely noticing the way your nails dig into his skin and make him hiss.

"Shit—! Pips—I’m gonna—fuckkk—!” He jerks forward with a cry, burying himself to the hilt as he comes, thick and hot down your throat. His whole body goes rigid, muscles pulling taut as he shoots rope after rope.

You can feel him sliding down your throat, and your only regret is that you can taste him when he's so deep.

When the last twitches of his release roll through him, Caleb pulls you off. He lets out a shuddered breath as he looks down at you.

You're a mess—saliva is clinging to your lips and chin like a second skin, your lashes are wet, and tears are staining your puffy cheeks.

Caleb doesn't think this could get any better until you bend forward and lick the rest of his cock clean.

He jolts, his hips giving a weak little twitch. "Wait—! I already—" He tears his hand away from your head and grips the seat. "Hah—'Mm sensitive!" he groans out, screwing his eyes shut like that might help him.

You go slow, making sure you don't miss a single drop, and when you pull back, you give him a lazy, utterly mind-numbing smile and murmur, " Did I do good?"

Caleb sinks back against the cushions and shakes his head with a breathless laugh. "You—.. You're unbelievable."

He gently pulls you up into his lap, careful not to touch his softening cock, and wraps his arms around you.

"You did too good." He hides his face in your neck. "'M sorry 'm so tired."

You smile to yourself, peppering the side of his head with kisses.

"I promise.. when I'm not seeing stars I'll.."

"It's okay," you whisper. "I'm just glad I did okay."

Caleb laughs. "More than okay."

—

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