#baron x reader

Kurt Kunkle ⋆˚࿔

Kurt has no experience at all. You're his first kiss, first handjob, first time, first everything. At first, he just fucks you with his tongue because, in his mind, if you like when he does that with his fingers, maybe you'll like his tongue too. He keeps throwing a few attempts until he sucks on your clit and that's what does it for you. The way you squeeze his head between your thighs, how you pull his and moan for him, because of him. This must be how the 1 million followers influencers feel when they post something and it has a thousand comments. He also reads threads about giving oral.

Walter Keys Mckey 💻⋆˚࿔

With Keys, everything is soft. He treats you like his most precious girl. He likes to have your legs over his shoulders, starts slow with long licks, and only increases once you start whining and acting all impatient. He smiles against your pussy and fucks your tight hole gently with his index finger, his tongue also sliding between your soaked folds. And he never, ever forgets to place kisses on your clit.

Baron 🍦˚࿔

Baron is messy in the best way. In the beginning, he doesn't know what to do, but wave goodbye to the end of beginning eventually Baron finds a rhythm that works for you both: desperate. That man eats you out like you're gonna disappear if you don't come on his tongue. He's a listener, so whatever you ask him to do, he will do. There are no bounds to his devotion, and what's a better way to show it other than to make you weak in his mouth? He won't stop until you come at least twice. And he always goes down on you as a make-up offer if you two argue or to relax you if you had a long day, it's his own way to feel useful.

Cole ♦️˚࿔

Cole likes to tease before going down to the real thing. He spreads kisses on your inner thigh, pecks your clothed pussy and likes your panties until it's wet from your arousal and his saliva. Only when you're begging and rubbing your core against his face like a dog in heat will he pull down your panties and start eating you out.

Travis Teacake Meacham 🍵🧁 ⋆˚࿔

Travis is nervous at first, so he asks you to say what makes you feel good. He wants to make sure you'll enjoy every second. Teacake isn't doing it for himself, but because he thinks you may like it.. at least that's what he thinks until he actually gets between your likes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, eating pussy is fucking great, man. It becomes one of his favorite things sex wise. He loves how you taste, how you keep him near, how he feels close to you when he's eating you out. Every little whimper is like a praise, and when you call him a good boy for licking you nice and clean? He almost comes in his pants.

Gabe 📿˚࿔

Gabe is not only inexperienced but also hesitant when it comes to sex. There's a lot of religious trauma trapped in his desires. But the bible taught us something: the apple always gets bitten. He gives into temptation, careful and trying cat licks at first until he's fully lapping against your cunt. And if there's punishment for it, he can't tell when his mouth tastes like your cum.

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You had been working at the Nursing Home for almost two years, long enough that routines felt like something you were completely used to. 

The facility was a building surrounded by tall trees that constantly rumbled in the breeze and long shadows over the carefully tended lawns during the golden hour. 

The air inside always carried a faint mixture of antiseptic and lavender spray.

You usually took care of room 209 located at the end of the west wing. It belonged to Eda Lamram.

She quickly became your favorite resident. Her body had become frail over time, but her warm voice made every conversation feel like sitting on a swing. 

Since your first week, she treated you like family and every afternoon you entered her room with a smile.

“Good afternoon, Eda. How are we feeling today?”

She patted the edge of her bed with a shaky and anxious hand.

"Don’t rush now, honey. These bones need real company more than another round of pills. Take a break."

You always did. While you brushed her thin white hair with slow careful movements or helped her with dinner, Eda loved to talk. And more than anything, she loved talking about her son.

A golden September afternoon, the sunlight leaned over the curtains covering the window. You were combing her hair carefully when she came.

"Baron," she softly said, "had the prettiest hair. Wavy, falling halfway down his shoulders. That boy always had more patience than any adult man I’ve ever met. He used to sneak me Moon Pies even when he knew the doctor would fuss."

You continued with the reassuring gestures, smiling. 

"He sounds like he was really gentle with you." 

"Oh, he was, darlin’. Gentler than anyone. When things got hard for me and I couldn’t manage on my own, he would come straight home from his shift at the post office and take care of everything.''

Her eyes were fogged by memories, but the smile on her face remained soft and proud. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze. 

“He must miss you terribly.” Eda nodded slowly.

“He does. Even after all the trouble that came, he still tried his best to look after me.”

You heard those stories almost every shift that you worked with her. How she carried her when the stairs got too much. 

"I was thinking today about how he used to feed me," Eda said as you stuck a loose thread behind her ear." Just like you do.’’

You laughed softly. "Sounds like he was a good son." 

"He still is," she replied while her eyes shined with silent malice. "Even if the world told you otherwise. You’d like him, I think. He notices kind people. And he remembers the small things." 

The night everything shifted came without warning.

It was a rainy Thursday in late October, well past midnight on your night shift. The hallways were dim, illuminated only by the soft blue glow of night lights spaced along the walls. 

You were in the middle of your round when you heard a faint metal scratch coming from the east wing supply closet.

Your pulse quickened and you approached quietly and pushed the door to open a few inches. There he was.

A tall man crouched down right inside the window he had forced open.

Under a black jacket he wore a light blue shirt, partially unbuttoned at the neck, revealing a white t-shirt underneath.

His hair was short  and  that made his sharp jaw and large brown eyes stand out. There is no trace of the long hair that Eda always described, but he had the same features. 

Baron. 

For several long seconds, neither of you two moved. You put the flashlight on the floor.

"I can’t believe this," you said softly. "Are you..?" 

His jaw was strained. His voice sounded low. 

"I know my mom talked about me, and you know I’m not here to make trouble. Let me see her.. Ten minutes. That’s all."

you studied him –the exhaustion in his posture– the silent despair in his eyes. 

Eda’s stories resonated in your head.

“Room 209,” you told him. “West wing, last door on the left. Ten minutes exactly. If I knock twice, you will need to hide or leave. No exceptions.”

Baron stared, surprise clear. 

“You’re really letting me?” He swallowed. “Thank you. I won’t forget this.” he slipped past you and you wiped the footprints.

Your heart hammered while you waited in the hallway.

Ten minutes later he emerged, closing the door softly. His eyes met yours. 

“I owe you,” he murmured. Then he was gone.

 That became the pattern. One that you knew was wrong, but couldn’t help but accept.

Baron returned every few nights. Sometimes twice a week. Occasionally a morning visit. 

You left the supply closet window unlatched on agreed nights.

Eda knew; the calm glow on her face the next morning said everything.

“My boy came again last night,” she confided one November morning while you helped with breakfast. “Hair’s short now. Cropped close. Makes him look older, but he’s still my Baron.”

You widened your eyes. “Really? He must care a lot to keep risking it.”

She patted your hand. “He does. And I think he’s starting to trust somebody else here, too.”

Conversations with Baron grew longer. At first you were deluded into saying that it was because you saw Eda happy. But inside you knew there was something else.

The second visit came three nights later. You left the supply closet window unlatched on the agreed night. He slipped in quietly and this time he didn’t rush out immediately after seeing Eda. 

When he came out of her room, he paused in the hallway.

“You didn’t have to do that again,” he said quietly, voice low so it wouldn’t carry. ‘’If security finds out you’re leaving windows open for me, they’ll fire you on the spot.”

You crossed your arms over your scrub top, watching him. 

“I know exactly what I’m risking. But I also know what your mom says about you when I’m brushing her hair or helping her eat.’’

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, the jacket shifting on his shoulders. 

“I keep waiting for the night you decide it’s not worth risking your job anymore.” the air between you felt heavier. You looked at him directly.

“And I keep wondering why you keep coming back when it could get us both in serious trouble. You could disappear somewhere else, start over. But you don’t.”

“Because she’s my mama,” he said simply. 

The next visit was a week later on a quieter night. He arrived a little earlier than usual. After spending time with Eda, he found you again in the supply closet before leaving. 

The conversation stretched longer.

“You’re still here,” he said, almost surprised, leaning against the shelves.

“I thought about leaving,” you admitted, arms crossed. “But then I remembered how Eda lights up when she talks about you.”

He gave a small, tired smile.

“You’re making it hard to stay away. I'm just passing through.”

There were more visits; some longer and others shorter. It had been weeks or even months since he started coming in at night. But there was a visit that stood out more than all the previous ones. 

After he left Eda’s room, you pulled him into the supply closet because a guard was doing an unexpected sweep nearby.

The space was tiny. Your bodies ended up pressed close together in the darkness. Only a thin strip of light showed under the door. Footsteps passed right outside and you both held your breath. 

When they finally faded, neither of you moved.

“We should get out of here. Before they circle back around.” Baron’s voice was low and strained. 

“Yeah,” you whispered. But you stayed exactly where you were with bodies still touching.

He didn’t step back either. You could feel the warmth of his body through his jacket, the slight tremor in his shoulders from the close call.

Baron spoke again with a voice quieter but insistent. 

“We need to talk about this. About what we’re doing. You’re risking your job every single time I come here. If they find out...”

‘’No. No, we’re not going to talk about the same thing we always talk about.” you cut him off. 

He insisted, his hand lightly touching your arm. 

“But we have to. This isn’t sustainable. You could lose everything because of me...”

To shut him up, you grabbed the front of his jacket and kissed him. The kiss was hard, urgent and hungry. Your lips crashed, teeth frayed and tongues slipped into a hopeless mess. 

Baron made a low sound of surprise but kissed you immediately, with some fear and doubt. His hand grabbed your waist tightly as he pressed his body against yours in the narrow space. 

The kiss became deep and raw from the shared need.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing hard, he rested his forehead against yours for a moment. Then a small, breathless smirk tugged at his lips.

“So that’s how you usually shut people up?” he asked, voice low and teasing, still a little rough from the kiss.

You let out a soft laugh, the tension easing just enough. 

“Only the ones who won’t shut up about how I’m going to get fired.”

For a second you both just looked at each other, the air still thick but now laced with something lighter, playful, almost flirtatious.

Then his expression shifted. His hands moved slowly up from your waist, sliding along your back until they rested on the nape of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair. 

He pulled you in again, this time with deliberate tenderness mixed with heat, and kissed you once more, deeper and slower, but no less hungry.

After the kiss, the visits continued, but everything felt different; heavier, more intimate, and more dangerous.

Security at the residence had become noticeably stricter in recent weeks, and was now getting worse.

What started as occasional night patrols had become more serious. 

The management held mandatory staff meetings on "suspicious night activities".

Now, random room audits were conducted twice per shift. Entries required ID scanning even for employees who had worked there for years, and additional security was sent for the weekends.

Some nights, two security officers walked together in the hallways instead of one. 

The atmosphere seemed heavier, more vigilant, almost paranoid. Rumors spread among the staff that someone might be sneaking in after hours. 

Some caregivers began to check the windows and doors before going out at night.

One morning you were working at the front desk with Sarah and Megan, two employees almost with your same age who worked as receptionists. 

Baron arrived during visiting hours. He walked up to the counter with that calm, quiet confidence, and Megan was the one who attended to him.

 “Good morning. Here to see Eda Lamram?”

“Yes,” Baron answered politely, his voice low and smooth. “Room 209.” Megan smiled brightly as she handed him the key. 

“Here you go. Have a nice visit.” while Megan spoke, Baron’s eyes found yours across the counter, holding your gaze a second longer than necessary.

Sarah leaned closer to you once he walked away. 

“Did you see that? The guy visiting Eda Lamram again. He’s so damn handsome. Those eyes… I swear he gets better looking every time he comes.”

Megan nodded eagerly. 

“Right? Quiet, mysterious… I wouldn’t mind spending a few extra minutes showing him around.” you kept your expression neutral, voice simple and dry. 

“He’s just visiting his mother. Nothing special.” Sarah glanced at you.

“Come on, you have to admit he’s good-looking.” you shrugged, tone flat. 

“He’s fine, I guess.”

Baron had only taken a few steps, but he paused for a moment, clearly having overheard your dry response. You saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a small, knowing smirk before he continued walking.

Later that same morning, when you were alone, Baron found you.

“So… ‘He’s fine, I guess’?” he said, voice low and teasing. “That’s how you talk about me when I’m not supposed to hear?”

You crossed your arms, trying to hide the small flush on your cheeks. 

“What was I supposed to say? That you’re the most handsome man who’s ever walked through those doors?” he chuckled softly, stepping closer. 

“Would’ve been nicer than ‘fine, I guess.’” 

“You’re impossible.” you rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth betrayed you with a tiny smile. He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“And it’s cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” you muttered, but the denial sounded weak even to your own ears.

Baron’s smile softened into something warmer. 

“Good. Because the only person I’m looking at when I come here is you.”

Then the morning when everything changed came.

It was a quiet Tuesday morning. Eda had been taken to the activity room for a group session, so the room was empty.

You decided to tidy it up even though it wasn’t strictly your job: you wiped down the nightstand with slow circular motions, smoothed out the sheets, and folded the thin blanket at the foot of the bed.

The room gave off a faint scent of Eda’s lotion and freshly laundered linens. You were smoothing out the pillow when the door opened softly behind you.

You turned around and Baron was there. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Suddenly, the room fell silent. He looked at you with his dark eyes.

“I’ve come to see my mother. It’s visiting hours, so it’s allowed.”

You set the cloth down on the table.

“She’s still in the activity room. They could bring her back at any moment.” he took a slow step toward you, then another, until he was right behind you.

He leaned in and gave you a soft lingering kiss on the side of your neck, just below your ear. His lips were warm, his breath burning against your skin.

You trembled and turned to look at him. As soon as you did, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you on the lips: a deep, passionate kiss, charged with all the tension that had been building up for weeks.

You returned his kiss for a few seconds before pulling away just enough to speak, your hands still resting on his chest.

“Baron– they could bring Eda in at any moment. Someone might walk in.” he didn’t pull away. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Then we should make the most of the moment while we have it.”

Before you could answer, he kissed you again, harder this time. His hands moved under your scrub top, palms warm against your bare skin. 

You tugged at his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. It fell to the floor. 

You worked the buttons of his light blue shirt open, then yanked the white t-shirt up and over his head. His skin was warm and his muscles tense under your hands.

He backed you toward the bed while his lips never left yours. When the back of your thighs hit the edge of Eda’’s neatly made bed, he lifted you slightly and sat you on it. 

He dropped to his knees between your legs, submissive in that moment, his hands trembling slightly with need as he pulled your scrub pants and panties down. 

He pressed open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, then buried his face between your legs. His tongue was eager and desperate, licking broad stripes up your slit before focusing on your clit, sucking gently then harder. 

Soft whimpers escaped him as he tasted you.

“Fuck… you taste so good,” he groaned against you, voice muffled and needy. “Been thinking about this for weeks. Please let me make you come.”

You threaded your fingers through his short, messy hair, guiding him. He licked and sucked with increasing hunger, two fingers sliding inside you, curling just right. 

Your hips rocked against his mouth until your legs shook and you came hard on his tongue, a sharp cry escaping you.

He stood up slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark with lust. The switch happened fast. He bent you over the edge of the bed and you braced your hands on the mattress as he pushed your legs apart.

He unbuckled his belt with quick, impatient fingers, the metal clinking softly. He lowered his black pants and boxers just enough to free himself. 

His cock was thick, hard and the head already glistening with precum. He stroked himself once, twice, then stepped closer, pressing the tip against your entrance.

He pushed in slowly at first, inch by inch, letting you feel every thick ridge as he stretched you open. A deep groan left his throat when he bottomed out completely, hips flush against your ass.

“Oh God,” you gasped at the sudden, delicious fullness. He groaned loudly, voice rough.

“So tight… so perfect around me. You feel even better than I imagined.”

He started slow, his hips rolling deep and deliberate, letting you adjust to his size.

His thrusts grew harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the quiet room. 

You wrapped one leg around his waist, heel digging into his lower back to pull him even deeper. 

He fucked you against the bed like that; your body bent over the edge, one leg hooked tightly around him, the other braced on the floor.

his hips snapped forward with raw power, the angle letting him hit deep with every thrust.

“Harder, Baron. Don’t stop.” you moaned, pushing back against him to meet every thrust. 

He obeyed, pounding into you relentlessly, the bed creaking under the force. His free hand reached around to rub your clit in tight, firm circles, the dual sensation making your vision blur. 

Even in his dominance there were flashes of the submissive side; soft whimpers when you clenched around him, the way he leaned down to kiss your neck and whisper hoarsely, 

“Tell me how good it feels… please, I need to hear it. Tell me I’m making you feel good.” 

you came again, hard, walls pulsing around his cock as pleasure crashed through you in waves. 

He kept going, thrusts becoming erratic and desperate, his breathing ragged.

“Gonna come,” he panted, voice breaking. “Where… where do you want it? Tell me— please, I’m so close I can’t hold it.”

“Pull out,” you gasped. “Come on my stomach. I want to feel it.”

With a broken groan he pulled out at the last second. You turned just in time to see him stroke his thick cock frantically, hand moving fast over the slick shaft. 

Thick, hot ropes of cum spilled across your stomach and lower abdomen in messy, glistening streaks, painting your skin while his whole body shuddered hard through the orgasm. 

His head fell back, lips parted on a quiet, desperate moan of your name as the last pulses left him, hips jerking with every spurt until he was spent.

He collapsed against you afterward, breathing heavily, pressing soft, grateful kisses along your neck and shoulder while you both came down. 

His short hair was damp with sweat. He pulled you against his chest, holding you tight in the quiet room that still smelled faintly of Eda’s lotion and fresh sheets.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. But I couldn’t stop. I needed you too bad.”

You smiled, tracing a finger over his chest. 

“I didn’t want you to stop.”

You two dressed quickly with hearts still racing, you cleaned yourself with paper that was around the stomach and smoothed your scrubs as best you could, fixing your hair with hurried fingers.

He ran a hand through his short, messy hair, trying to make it look presentable. You both glanced at each other, sharing a quick, nervous smile at how disheveled you still looked.

Just as you finished straightening the bed, the door opened.

Eda was wheeled back into the room by an aide. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw her son standing there.

“Baron! My boy, you came,” she said warmly with her voice full of genuine delight.

Baron turned toward her with an easy, charming smile: the kind that made him look like the devoted son from all her stories. He crossed the room in two steps and leaned down to kiss her cheek gently.

“Of course I did, Mama. Couldn’t miss seeing you today,” he said softly, his voice warm and affectionate. 

He took her hand carefully, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles the way he always did in her memories. 

“You look beautiful as always. How are you feeling this morning?”

Eda beamed, squeezing his hand. 

“Better now that you’re here, sugar. Sit with me for a minute. Tell me how you’ve been.”

You stood a few steps away, watching the interaction. A soft, hidden smile curved your lips as you saw the gentle way he spoke to her, the patience in his eyes, the way he made her feel like the most important person in the world. 

Baron glanced at you over his mother’s shoulder for the briefest second. His eyes held yours with a silent, shared understanding — tender, grateful, and full of everything you couldn’t say out loud.

You looked away first, still smiling softly to yourself as you picked up the cloth and continued tidying, pretending nothing had changed.

Steve Harrington

Steve takes you asking him to go out and buy you pads or tampons WAY too seriously. Acts like you’ve sent him off to war. “Wait for me, I’ll be home soon.” Very dramatic. But with the best intentions, of course! A little clueless, he has to call you while he’s in the aisle, double and triple checking he has the right kind. Probably accidentally picks up the ‘scented’ kind the first time and you have to send him back to the store. “I thought you wanted the minty ones??”

Gator Tillman

Gator downright refuses. He thinks he’s too ‘manly’ for stuff like that. In truth? He’s just a loser who’s too embarrassed (love him tho!!) But if we’re being delulu… He’d give in once he realizes how much pain you’re in. Crouches next to where you’re lying curled up on the couch, murmuring, “’Course, mama. Whatever you need,” as he brushes some loose hair from your face. You definitely get the “What size pussy are ya’?” call if he gives in.

Kurt Kunkle

Kurt is totally and utterly out of his depth. Goes red, cheeks and the tips of his ears flushing. “…Me? But- what if one of my viewers is there?” Oh, sweet, sweet Kurt, none of your 3 followers will be at the store. Even though he’s embarrassed out of his mind, he worships you, so he goes anyway. Gives a confused call to his mom, “Wait, tampons go WHERE?”

Baron Lamram

Baron, boyfriend of the year, probably already has some in the cabinet under his bathroom sink. “Didn’t know what kind you wanted, sweetness, so I bought a bunch. Take your pick.” SO sweet, probably got you flowers while he was out buying them too. :(

Travis “Teacake” Meacham

Teacake, even though he’s flustered, agrees without any second thought. In fact, he’s already got his keys in hand. Begs you to come with him because he doesn’t want to be ‘lonely’. You have to explain to him the situation you’re in and that you physically can’t. He hums out an “Ooohhh. Can I at least take your card, then? I… lost mine.” Whoops.

Keys McKey

It was a too-small town somewhere insignificant and far away from everything significant. It was perfect really, to get away and reset, re-calibrate and downscale from how busy life got. So you quite literally threw a dart at a map and went for it. Financially it wasn't viable, your art makes barely enough to live but it was necessary.

Unexpectedly, what you hadn't been planning on finding in your reset, was someone. Loosely. Baron Lamram was the paper boy (man?) and he knew everyone from the elderly couple down the road to the de facto couple next door with too many kids.

He was a sweetheart, the way he immediately locked onto you as the new person in town. The conversations started off as typical small talk, though you consider he isn't really one for small talk since he just speaks his mind a lot. Then the conversations began happening outside of the usual mail exchange, through the doorway of your little house and in other places as a change of scenery.

Like at the corner store or just on the street.

Then it just became a routine, neither of you really had set it, but it just happened. Similar to how most things happened between the two of you, you kissed him and he kissed you, only a handful of times. But from then on he came around daily, even for just ten minutes, just to talk mostly. Or to see you.

So really, he wasn't anyone particularly grand, hell, he wasn't even your boyfriend. He existed as an entity somewhere that took up space like one but neither of you were in a hurry to rectify the confusion.

For now, it was just... Nice. No real expectations, none of the bullshit that came with modern day dating. Even if you could call kissing the same guy three times 'dating'.

The doorbell ringing signifies his arrival, a planned day together because you wanted his help with some art for an upcoming gallery.

"Sugar! You made it," you grin while swinging the door open, already you were a mess from head to toe. Cut offs of tape stuck all over yourself from sticking that plastic wrapping around the makeshift studio. There were perpetual flecks of paint in your hair or on your face. Today was no different, "hows your Ma?"

"Well," he scratches the back of his head, hair windswept from biking in the spring warmth. Baron was never one to beat around the bush, no he very much liked to beat the bush. It was easier to say 'good' then move on, but he never had a flair for those types of niceties. He gives context instead because he likes to give context, "they done raised the prices of Ma's medicine again."

"You're kidding?"

"Swear to god, I ain't."

He looks at you with those downturned eyes, the ones that made your stomach flip and your heart sigh with a resounding here we go'. "Well — this gallery could be decent pickings, I'll give you half the earnings for helping me out, sugar."

"Shucks... I ain't helpin' for money." You know this, but you know he'd never ask for help not because of some warped sense of masculinity or pride. Because you know he doesn't like to bother people too much with his troubles. Well... He doesn't expect people to offer help because who the hell can in these times?

"I know, sugar. C'mon! Get your ass in here." Your fingers wrap around his wrist, tugging him inside. He still never invites himself in, only ever waiting for you to pull him in or explicitly ask him to come inside. It was endearing and delightful.

Once inside the studio he looks around once, then at you, then back around again as if to verify that what he's seeing is real. "You... What's with all the plastic?" He points, turning on the spot, "you done changed it up since last time."

You gesture to the paint pots lining the wall, "we gonna make a mess."

Your artwork is best described as expressionism and byproxy, an extension of you. Less flashy in a way that billionaires would fork out fortunes for, but twenty somethings and quirky cafe owners would snatch up at the right craft market. Pictures captured a thousand unspoken things, invoking emotions and inspiration unique to everyone who looks at it.

The type of art you did was painting the subjects, then snapping that moment for eternity inside the tiny reel of film ready to be developed.

He's seen your work before, lining the entry way of the small ramshackle house. A lot of them were you, different lighting, different elements. One thing in common; Nudity.

"All right, sugar. I'm gonna sit on this, I want you to paint me. No overthinkin', just doin'." You grin, and in you fashion, clothes are discarded as though they were more an inconvenience than anything else. In your case for art, they were more annoying than helpful.

Some collections of art in the past that have made it to a gallery had you as the subject before, this wasn't new. Only this time you have help.

At first this was an endeavor you were completely comfortable to do alone, as always had been the case. Living in a small town now meant the subject pool shrunk drastically compared to the outer suburb living that was abundant in people willing to sit in front of a camera naked for an hour.

Baron, bless his soul, asked if you wanted help when it was brought up a few days ago. He was good at that — giving out his time like he had all of it in the world to spare. Barely scraping pennies together being the post boy, it was a non-negotiable for you that he'd give up a work day for this.

And now he's here, on a day off, staring at you with his mouth parted as if he was unsure what to do now that you sat on the stool naked.

"Sugar?"

"Mh." He tucks his hair behind his ears and draws a shaky breath. Tongue swiping across his lips while he really tries his hardest not to look at you.

"If you're not comfy, you don't have to do this, sweetheart." Because even though you double checked yesterday, then triple checked this morning on the phone, it was okay to back out at any point. Nudity is precious to some people, and that was never going to be something you'd make fun of (especially) Baron for.

"I wanna help," he rasps, finally flicking his eyes up to meet yours. Quagmire and petrified wood is what they reminded you of, swirls of amber adding visual variance that just made him all the more precious.

Nodding, your hand gestures to the paint pots, "don't overthink it, sugar. Get it on your hands, put colour where it feels right. Hell — you could dump a whole pot on me. Follow instinct. I got a remote to trigger the camera." Which you held up and shook in your hands.

The plastic on the floor crinkles with his careful and measured steps, if he isn't looking at the paint pots he's only looking at your face. He was sickeningly sweet.

It was interesting to watch how he looks at the colours, hesitating on one and then moving on. Once he clears the camera, now on the other side of the room, you snap a picture. A preamble to what is to come. Cleanliness and order before chaos and mess.

Finally, he comes over, having settled on the yellow he hovered near for a while. Right hand dripping with viscous paint, immediately forgetting its on there and tucking his hair behind his ear.

You giggle, he jerks away from his hand, "oh gosh dang it," muttering softly to his hand as though it had a mind of its own and did that on purpose.

"Paintin' the wrong canvas, sugar." A hand comes up to properly tuck in his hair, you slip off the hair elastic from your wrist, arms resting over his shoulders as he naturally settles between your parted legs. You gather his wayward hair and tie it into a messy bun. Strands not quite long enough to fit, frame his face instead.

"Better?" Your hands slide down to rest on his chest, fingers playing absently with the buttons of his coveralls.

He nods coy and bashful, a smile curling in his lips and immediately does it again without thinking. This time one of your hands gently grabs his wrist, "I can paint you next if you'd like, don't worry about getting messy."

Again, he nods and refuses to look away. The side of his face smeared with yellow and some of it tracked through his hair.

"Words, sugar. Yes or no."

"Y-yeah—yes." His words are clumsy and breathy, it occurs to you now that maybe he's never been this close with someone before. He adds a quiet, "I'd like that," before his throat bobs.

Despite the double affirmation, you know he was prone to being convinced into stuff he doesn't feel that good about, so your other hand cups his cheek, "are you sure?"

This causes him pause, the hand that was covered in paint had begun dribbling yellow onto your thigh. His doe eyes firmly plant their gaze at you, the most confidently he's looked at you since stripping naked. "I want you to."

Translation heard, he wants your touch, your hands, maybe even your lips on him. He had moments of quiet confidence like this, that seep through that sweetheart nature of his. It makes you consider he might not be as sheltered as he comes off.

Then he blushes when he accidentally looks at your breasts and that consideration immediately goes out the window.

Your hands drop, one closing around the remote for the camera.

Almost immediately, in a way that makes your heart ache impossibly hard, his messy fingers draw a tentative smudge across your chest where your heart rest beneath. It steadily thrums, stuttering for a beat at the cool touch, his touch. This sweetheart from a too-small town.

Without permission, your mind becomes a whirring presentation of every asshole you've given time or your heart to. Paling in comparison to this precious and rare enigma of a guy who isn't much to look at initially. But beneath there was hidden treasure just waiting for the right person to come by and witness.

With the pause of his fingers and the two of you locked in a silent conversation between glances and parted lips, he lifts his hand to brush across your cheek. Yellow smears along with the drag of his thumb across the apple of your cheek. Your finger twitches, almost instinctively pressing on the remote that triggers a near blinding flash from the camera.

A moment worth a thousand words, immortalized in light sensitive crystalized silver forever.

Once he finished off with the yellow, he moved onto green. Then came red. Then blue. Then pink. Colours mixing to make vibrant hues or muddying depending on where his hands decided to go. From arms, to legs, neck then naval. Each colour prompted another flash, each moment that felt right also triggered another flash.

His touch wasn't lewd, it didn't toe the line of inappropriate or opportunistic. It was curious and careful — there it was again, that rare confidence that would appear. Or maybe it was awareness.

"Hey," your hand gently curls around his, joining the muddy colours that have mixed from his painting, he's been at it for a while, lost in his own world. Eyes fluttering with those ridiculously big lashes, lips puckered in concentration and nose scrunched.

Baron had never looked more beautiful than right now. Hair haphazardly tied back, messy coveralls and those mahogany eyes with rings of molten gold. It was unfair.

You swipe two fingers across his neck playfully, "didn't wantcha feeling left out."

He blushes a dusty pink beneath freckles that aren't obvious compared to his moles. "Did I do it right?" He takes a step back, not to create distance, but to look back at his handy work.

Fingerprints and smudges streaked limbs and joints, his favourite was the accidental smiley face he made on the inside of your thigh.

"Baron," you lean forward, he's already hanging his head.

"'There ain't no right or wrong', s'what you were gonna say, right?"

"Uh-huh. Instinct just flows, sugar. You might be good at this art thing."

His teeth gnaw at the plump of his lower lip, not in a particularly sexy way or an attempt to come off attractive. It was a nervous one, "I guess... I ain't too sure how paintin' a pretty girl got anythin' to do with art or nothin'."

"Well do you feel different? Better? Worse? Pensive?"

"I got no clue what that word means, pretty." He chuckles awkwardly, abandoning the turquoise paint pot on the stool beside you, "I feel... calm. Like I ain't got nothin' to worry about. S'just you and me."

You and me. Said in that hopelessly earnest tone looking at you as though you were the reason he got out of bed every day. This... Thing, whatever it was, existing between you felt more real every day.

Nothing seemed adequate to follow that up, aside from a ridiculous love declaration, but this wasn't a scenario that needed it. Baron didn't need to hear you say anything other than you were there and listening, maybe love was on the cards eventually but right now it was still in its infancy.

A petal not quite ready to bloom outward.

So you say nothing at all, just keep your fingers on his skin until he speaks again, "can you paint me now?" He looks guilty for asking, in the downward turn of his head, missing completely the way you beam at his request.

Already, your unfolding off the stool, standing upright beside him with a toothy grin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah — can you make me blue?"

You laugh softly, "just blue?"

"I like blue," he says it defensively but theres no punch to it, barely a gentle reasoning — he's giving you context like he always does.

"I didn't mean it like that, sugar. I can do shades of blue, don't want you looking like smurf."

His lips curl into a smile, "I like them guys." He's now just fucking with you, evident in the way his smile turns impish and his eyes avoid yours like he's bashful about being playful.

Your fingers curl around the lapels of his coveralls, dark curls poking out from the opening which you have to actively try not running your fingers through it, "this'll need to come off if you don't wanna get it ruined." A suggestion, not a strict command. Whatever pace he wanted to set was going to be fine by you either way.

There's a moment he considers it, telegraphed in the quirk of his brows and soft hum that vibrates his chest, rumbling beneath your fingertips. Something in his mind embarrasses him, because his breath hitches and he stumbles to sit down on the stool. His eyes follow you more easily now you're covered in paint, as if it created a barrier for him to look guilt free.

While he sits with that lone paint mark from before, you trigger the camera to flash and in the process, accidentally startling him who wasn't prepared for it.

"Sorry, sugar." You chuckle from across the room, picking up midnight blue and teal.

"S'okay," his eyes track your approach, not in a lecherous way, never in a way that made you feel more like meat than a person. Baron was incapable of making someone feel like that, his eyes say too much. Curious without probing, assessing without scrutiny, innocence from inexperience not because there was anything 'wrong' with him.

He once told you he got called an invalid, not that exact word, but the connotation meant all the same. Baron was gullible, saw the best in people and went through life to enjoy the little treasures given to him, not to be sucked into all the misery that was hard to ignore.

He was not lesser for that, and thats what you'd said. All those things, about how he strolls through life looking at all the colours of the world and smells and sights and tastes. About how he assumes the best and never expects the worst, because whatever trajectory he was on would lead him to contentedness one way or another.

Without thinking, lost in the details of his face, your lips move and the gentlest of, "pretty," murmurs out. Then your brain catches up to the moment, and you smear some midnight blue over the apple of his cheek.

"You ain't actually mean that, pretty. That's you," he breathes, shifting on the stool and wringing his fingers.

Your messy hand cups his chin tenderly, tilting his head up to lock eyes, "you are the prettiest work of art I'll have the pleasure of painting." The weight of your words land heavier than intended, unintentionally feeling more like a declaration of love than the usual three words.

But it felt right to say, just like the strokes on his skin to follow it was all instinctual. Did it mean any less even if the two of you were simply delighted in one anothers company? No. It meant something, but that something didn't feel like it needed defining right now.

Indigo, lapis, azure, cerulean one by one make their statement across his face and hands and coveralls. When the moment felt right, the camera would flash and even though he knew that was the objective of this art work he still jumped every-time. Sapphire, cobalt, cyan and periwinkle soon join the mosaic union of all these blues while you work quietly to appreciate the man before you.

"Done," you nod with satisfaction, "all blue and not too smurfy either."

Your voice was gentle, breath puffing in his face when you reach up to adjust one of his wayward strands painted teal. There really were no words to describe the complex push pull of your feelings toward Baron, but maybe the ocean was a good example. It felt easy being near him, talking to him, sometimes it was like the tide.

Some days the tide was high, other days it was low but that wasn't indicative of feeling less intense about him. More that, whatever existed was softer, more calm in preparation for the days where it felt loud and consuming.

He must feel it too, while his hands stay put on his thighs, his head tilts into the delicate touch of your hand and subconsciously leans forward toward your face. "You look like one of them picato paintin's," he tried his best. Always.

A faint laugh bubbles out of barely parted lips, considering for a moment to correct him and say 'Picasso' but decide there was no need when the moment was perfect, "you look like a starry night, sugar." Both literally and in reference to Van Gogh's painting.

Without giving it much thought, your fingers circle the parts of his face where his moles came through the paint faintly, "s'like looking at the milky way." And like everything else about today, you just act on instinct and kiss the parts of his face where you know his beauty spots are.

He shifts, hands twitching but that embarrassing flush of inexperience and clumsiness halt his movements as you peck the tip of his nose.

"Baron." Not sugar, not sweetheart, but his name sounded so sweet whispered through your lips. At first it felt like a warning, like you had somehow managed to burrow into his mind and hear his thoughts but the look on your face said otherwise.

Then your fingers press into his wrists, not hard or demanding, just guiding them up to rest on your hips. "Is this okay?"

It was a simple question but it meant all the same, it seemed like a significant jump to go from kissing a handful of times to then be touching your naked body. He doesn't just nod and murmur a soft 'yes', his fingers flex out before firmly indenting in the plush of your body.

Only then do you let go of his hands, resting them languidly on his shoulders, "you can touch me," you pause and think if its worth clarifying, but settle on something that will make him feel more at ease, "wherever you like."

His hands don't move more than the soft rubbing of his thumbs across your skin, and surprisingly, he's leaning forward to initiate a kiss. Sweet and wobbly, his nose bumps yours in a way that was entirely ungraceful yet didn't deter him from feeling your lips with his own in a short peck.

"Hey," you murmur playfully, tugging him back closer, "get back here, you." This time you lean in, pressing lips to his soft at first. Enough that his hands tense around your hips and somewhere in your core, you feel that familiar tightness starting to coil more and more.

Your fingers curl into his long messy strands of hair, tongue swiping over his lower lip which causes an abrupt whimper to stifle from his mouth. He pulls back red in the face underneath all the paint, wide eyed like he did the wrong thing.

"Too much?" The question hangs in the air, quiet and safe. A checkpoint to stop things now before getting too carried away.

Peering through his lashes was a sight that nearly made your knees buckle. And then he shakes his head slowly, "can you kiss me like that again?" He pauses, then smiles nervously, "p-please."

"You liked it, hm?"

That felt like the biggest understatement of the century, especially when you kiss him again, tongue, teeth and spit but not rough or urgent. Unhurried and slow, every drag of your tongue against his was a long swiiiipe, mainly to help him get the movement down and replicate but also to just feel him.

Wet lips pressing against one another had you instinctively rocking your hips against nothing, legs pressed together as the need and desire starts to flush through you from top to bottom.

His hands move without any intervention from you, still cautious and learning but fingertips glide up your bare sides. He makes little humming noises through sharp intakes of breath, like he's forgotten how to breathe when your tongues are entwined. Hands stopping shy of your breasts, close enough that you know he's thinking about whether he can touch you or not.

"Shgar," you slur against his lips, breathy and deep. Only now do you bring a hand down to his, lifting it up and over one of your breasts. Both of you stutter, the kissing halts for a moment and nothing but the chorus of panting and heartbeats thrum in the studio.

"Can I?" His whine cuts through the silence, flushed in the face, lips swollen and wet, he looks at you with a foreign desperation. Unintentionally starting something in him that he had yet to experience but now he had it, he needed it. Can he what, exactly? You had no idea, but you nod anyway.

"Yeah, sweetheart."

What you hadn't expected was him to lean forward, press his face in the space between your breasts and nuzzle his head in. The hand already on one, squeezes softly, then releases intermittently, curious and light.

His lips press feather-light kisses across painted skin, barely pressing down on your sternum, the curve of your breast and then over your nipple, which he kisses tentatively first before sealing lips over the bud and sucking. The entire time his eyes are flicked up to yours, through long lashes and strands of painted hair.

Without even knowing it, he sometimes had the confidence of a guy much different than him. Your legs clench tighter and fingers anchor themselves in the loose bun beginning to unravel, kind of like how you might if he kept looking at you like that. "Sugar," you sigh, out of breath from him tugging at your nipple, "you feel so good sweetheart, but you're gonna swallow paint if you keep goin'."

As reluctant as you were to get him to stop, there was still a very apparent hazard of being covered in paint respectively.

When he moves back, nipple still trapped between his teeth until he finally lets go, he takes a shuddering breath and swallows, "I didn't taste no paint or nothin', pretty. Just you." The yellow smeared paint across his lips say otherwise.

"You're so sweet. C'mon, I'll get you all nice n' cleaned up, mmkay?" Your fingers thread through his and tug him off the stool.

"Yes, ma'am."  

There were six apartments to be exact. One of them was always vacant due to the fact that there was a giant hole in the roof that the landlord had given up on. Two of the rooms were owned by Donald and Sue Lehigh, one of them was also vacant because they were trying to make it one of those Airbnb rooms. They’d had no luck thus far. 

Sam Fultz lived in one apartment, someone that he’d gone to school with. He’d been a star quarterback, but now survived off of his parents' good will. The one next to him belonged to Kathy, a nice elderly woman who went through several packs of cigarettes a day. Her husband had died not too long ago.

The apartment at the very end had recently been moved into by someone he wasn’t aware of yet. He’d heard rumors throughout town, because nothing happened here without everyone else knowing first. You were an outsider, someone that people weren’t sure they could trust yet.

Baron didn’t pay attention to much of the gossip in town, knowing that everyone was just bored in their own way. Perhaps they meant well too, but he wasn’t a very big fan of it. And besides, he was too busy to worry about gossip when he had his mama to look after. 

It took exactly one knock on the door before you were tugging it open, fully expecting it to be another neighbor inviting you over for tea or for dinner. You’d never met such a friendly group of people before, though you were looking for some time on your own. You just wanted to adjust. 

To breathe. Which the cute mail carrier in front of you seemed to have forgotten how to do. 

Because right there, standing in front of him, was the girl of his dreams. Literally. He swore he thought of you every night, saw you in his daydreams and his imagination. Somehow you’d been perfectly plucked out of his memory and put right in front of him. 

“Hi, I uh…” Baron drifted off for a moment, blinking slowly as a flush settled on his cheeks. He was searching for something interesting to say, anything to impress you, “I gotcha mail.” 

“Oh, I’ve never had my mail delivered to me before.” You admitted in surprise, blinking as you held your hand out slowly. 

“Oh well,” a soft, nervous laugh left him, “we just try and be friendly around here. You’re new.” He passed the letters to you, his long fingers brushing against your skin in the process. He had nice hands. 

“I am,” you smiled as you took the letters softly, flicking through them, “any suggestions on what to do around here?” There didn’t look like much, but maybe you were missing out on something. 

“Notin’.” You raised your eyebrows, meeting his dopey smile as the wind caught his long hair. 

He wore a white buttoned up shirt, the top few buttons undone to let his collar be free. Over that he had on a blue post office jacket, showing off that he was the letter carrier. A heavy bag rested over his shoulder, his toned legs exposed against the reddish shorts he was wearing. 

His eyes were warm and downturned, eyebrows arched and full. His nose was sharp, but not in an aggressive manner. He also had a pair of soft lips, a gentle pink and the cutest cupid’s bow that you’d ever seen. Moles were decorated across his skin, covering his face and neck.

He was cute, really cute. 

“Nothing?” The clarification rolled from you as you continued to watch him, listening to the soft way he laughed as he shrugged his shoulders. 

“Well,” he inhaled deeply, pushing his long hair behind his ears, “there’s one red light, one ice cream shop, no police, no fire department, no nothin’ because folks are so friendly. You know folks with big dreams and small homes, but it’s home.” He rambled on for a moment, like he was trying to recount everything all at once. 

“That doesn’t sound too terrible,” you smiled, “thank you. My mom worries about me, if you didn’t notice.” You pressed your lips together, wondering how she had the time to write to you so much since she called you even more. 

“Oh, I didn’t read it,” he was laughing again, “but mama’s do that. They’re real good about worryin’.” He gulped as he nodded his head, still looking slightly starstruck. You liked his accent, it was thick. 

“They really are,” you pressed your lips together, “well thank you again. I bet you’re busy.” You gestured towards the heavy bag that was hanging over his shoulder, wondering if you needed to remind him about his job. 

“Not really.” There was something endearing about him, even though he was lingering for a moment too long. Normally it would turn awkward, and it was in a way, but he was too cute. 

“What was your name?” It took you a second to realize that you hadn’t asked, and you were very curious. You’d never had a man be so awestruck with you before. 

“Baron, and yours?” he had a lopsided grin on his lips, a dreamy expression on his features as you recounted yours, “s’nice name, real pretty.” Baron pressed his lips together as he nodded his head quickly, corners of his lips curling into a little smile. 

“Thank you. I’ll see you around, Baron.” You thanked him again, giggling at how he made no effort to move as you began to shut the door. 

“Yeah. See you.” A soft exhale left him as you finally closed the distance between the two of you, hand lingering against the door. It was too early to jump into any sort of relationship but, God, he was sweet. 

It continued like that for a while. Baron would deliver your mail and stick around for a few minutes of small talk, always asking how your mother was doing. In return you asked about his, but felt guilty when you found out how sick she was. Suddenly you weren’t as annoyed with your mom checking in on you. 

He was nice, chatty, which was why you had no problem when he offered to give you a real tour of the town. He’d shown up with a bouquet of wildflowers that you were certain he’d put together on his own, but it was sweet and they were beautiful. You couldn’t help but laugh when he’d shown up with a bike instead of a car, but you fit on there all the same.

And did your best not to think about how ridiculous the two of you probably looked. 

“What’re ya thinkin’?” Baron’s fingers were soft against yours as he helped you off of the bike, the same bright grin on his lips. He looked handsome today in his blue overalls and the simple shirt he had on underneath. The top of it was undone, showing off a thick cluster of chest hair. 

“The weather is nice,” you smiled, “and I do love ice cream, so I’m excited.” You didn’t necessarily go out of your way to get ice cream, but Baron must love it. 

“S’been around for a while,” he explained as he held the door open for you, “you know, Mr. Walkers family owned this for many years. Hi, Mr. Walker.” He waved at the elderly gentleman, smiling as politely as always. Every time he answered it was yes sir, thank you sir. Which was cute. 

You lingered behind him as you both ordered your different orders, though Baron paid for yours anyways even when you tried to give him cash for it. He kindly brushed you off, shrugging his shoulders before passing the strawberry ice cream cone to you. 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” You told him softly, joining him at the booth. He gave you a little cheeky smile, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh you know, I don’t mind. It’s not that much,” he answered before taking a lick from his ice cream, “what brings you out here anyways? I mean, why’d you decide to move? No one ever comes out here.” 

“I was tired of the big city,” you answered honestly, “the nature out here is so pretty, and I think it’s sweet that everyone is familiar with one another.” Besides, you needed a change. Something new. You’d wasted so much of your life rotting away there, that this really felt like the right choice.

And you liked Baron. He was cute, sweet. For the first time, you weren’t opposed if this developed into something more. You felt like you could trust him. 

“Yeah, yeah folks here are very friendly with one ‘nother,” he beamed, vanilla ice cream lingering on his nose and chin, “there’s not much though. I hope you won’t get too bored with yourself.” His hazel eyes looked golden as the sunlight hit him, making him squint before he took another broad lick from his ice cream.

“I don’t think so,” not as long as you continued to hang around Baron. This was nice, “I’m really starting to love this town, and the people aren’t so bad either.” You teased, offering your ice cream cone to him.

Baron hesitated for just a second before he took a long lick of your strawberry cone as you felt warmth in your tummy spread. When he pulled away you licked from the same spot, pretending that you were tasting him in a different manner. 

His face turned pink as he watched you, soft laughter tumbling free as he ducked his head down for a moment. You watched in interest, tilting your head as he began speaking again. 

“My mama use to take me here all the time,” he revealed softly, “I was hopin’ you’d like it. It means a lot to me, you know, that you enjoy it too.” You giggled at his words, nodding your head as you continued to eat your ice cream and share small talk back and forth.

The more you listened to him, the more that you realized that he seemed a little lost. He’d mentioned the people around here having big dreams, but you were beginning to realize he was talking about himself. Not to mention the fact that he was stuck in a round about way. He couldn’t leave, not when his mother was so sick.

“Would you ever leave? Or go on vacation? Have you been anywhere else?” You clarified, elbows resting on the table as Baron finished the rest of your cone. They’d filled it up with so much ice cream that you could only finish a little over half of it. 

“Oh no, I mean I haven’t been nowhere before. Just here,” he munched the rest of the cone down, some crumbs and ice cream remaining on the side of his face, “maybe one day when my mama is better. It’s just expensive.” He added, making you nod your head in understanding.

“You got a little-,” you paused, smiling as he looked at you with widened eyes. You leaned forward instead, wiping it away with your thumb, “just there. All better.” You hummed, eyes locking with his as you licked the mess away from your thumb.

Baron burned brightly at that, his lips curling into a dreamy smile as he began to fuss with the top of his overalls. He stalled for a moment, like he was searching for something to say.

“Thank you for that,” he gulped, eyes still dancing with awe, “do you wanna-, well, there’s this nice hiking trail and it leads down to the quarry. I thought we could have a picnic if you want.” You grinned even wider.

“A picnic sounds lovely, only if you let me buy the supplies.” 

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged his shoulders, “it’s not everyday I get to buy a pretty girl somethin’ sweet.” Now it was your turn to get flustered. It wasn’t even that his statement was very smooth, but it did make your heart flutter and your stomach twist. 

You felt like a school girl. 

Your arms fit softly around Baron’s tiny waist as he peddled you across town to the convenience store. You felt bad that he was standing, but he insisted that he was fine. 

Baron was hanging onto your every word as you told him about your life in the city, your friends and your family. His eyes twinkled as you spoke, his smile still as bright as you gathered up drinks, sandwiches and chips.

“Do you want something sweet?” You questioned as you twisted your nose up, still not very hungry since you’d just had ice cream. Then again, maybe you’d work up an appetite by then. 

“My mama’s favorites,” he added as he held several moon pies up, “I’ll save some for later.” He promised as your heart fluttered again. He was very sweet. 

The trip to the walking trail took the longest, the sun beginning to dip down behind the trees by the time you arrived. Baron was still asking you questions, little details about everything. What you liked, what you didn’t like, why you felt that way. 

Your fingers brushed against his with each step forward, the two of you walking very close together. You complimented his hair and how sweet he was, really enjoying the way he flushed when you told him that he was handsome. 

“Those are the armadillos?” You raised your eyebrows as you came to a stop, listening for a moment. Baron beamed at you, like he was impressed that you had actually listened. 

“Yeah, they like to cry,” he pressed his lips together as he smiled at you, “they can’t see very well, they gotta rely on their other senses to move around.” He taught you, making you nod your head in agreement. 

“They make a pretty song,” you teased, inhaling sharply as you linked your fingers with his slowly, “the view here is beautiful.” You looked around at the summer trees as the soft breeze hit you, the golden hue that sprinkled over the valley. 

Yeah, this is what you missed in the city. 

After a few laps around with Baron telling you about different parts of the town, teaching you about the history and who had been living there the longest. You also learned that he was an old child, that he’d never met his father, so it’d always been just him and his mother. 

You had two sandwiches. One ham and cheese, and the other turkey and cheese. You split both of those, leaving you both with half as you took turns snacking on those and the potato chips you’d bought. Baron had surprised you by picking out a glass bottle of orange soda, but you thought that made him even more interesting.

In all honesty, today had been the best day that you’d had in a long time. You really, really liked Baron. He was everything that you thought a man should be, and didn’t understand how he hadn’t been roped up already.

And you were really hoping that he felt the same way about you. 

“It’s gettin’ late.” Baron’s long fingers were wrapped around the bottle of his drink, his features all squinted as the sun dipped below the tree line completely. The stars were now out, the fireflies dancing around as the bugs sang behind the two of you. 

“Maybe you’d wanna come back to my place for a while?” You suggested slowly, pulling on a soft smile to pretend to be as casual as you could. 

“Oh,” he laughed breathlessly, “you see, I would. I wanna, but it’s my mama. She needs me. I already been gone for a long time.” A regretful expression crossed on his features, like he was pained to admit that. 

“Would I be a bother if I came over?” You questioned softly, watching the way his expression dropped in surprise. He quickly shook his head.

“No,” another little laugh left him as he adjusted his overalls, “yeah, I mean it would be nice if you came over. Mama don’t get many visitors anymore.” You pressed your lips together, thinking that was sweet. 

“I’d love to meet her. I suppose it would be better if I showed up with something though?” You pressed your lips together, feeling like the people in this town introduced themselves with fancy desserts that they’d baked. 

“You will,” he smiled as he reached for the moon pies that were left over, “I told you, these are mama’s favorite.” 

The trip to his house was much more difficult in the dark, and towards the end you both gave up and ended up walking side by side as he pushed his bike the rest of the way.

Baron lived at a fair distance outside of town, on a dirt road that held a large white farmhouse. The animals and bugs were even louder this far out of town, the stars shining brighter in the sky. There was a large tree in front of the house, the same one that he’d referenced in his stories of when he was a little boy.

“S’not much,” he apologized, like he needed to do so, “but it’s home. Come on in.” You looked around in interest as he flicked all the lights on, taking in the slightly old house as you kicked your shoes off. 

You followed him down the hallway, hearing the machines before you saw them. Your heart ached a little bit as you pressed your lips together, realizing just how sick his mother really was. 

“This is my mama, uh, you can call her mama Eda. That’s what everyone calls her.” He smiled proudly as he sat at the side of her bed, uncapping her medicine before placing a pill on a moon pie like it was second nature.

“Nice to meet you, mama Eda,” you introduced yourself softly, “Baron is quite the gentleman. You should be very proud.” You added, then let him do his routine as you sat back and watched. It wasn’t awkward, but a little eye opening. It made sense why he didn’t have time to do anything else. 

You two found yourselves in the living room a while later, chatting softly under the guise of the TV as you sipped on some tea. You’d found it all tucked away and decided that he could use something nice.

“It’s really coming down out there,” you stated as you turned towards the large window, wincing as the rain continued to roar against the roof, “I didn’t know it was supposed to rain.” You admitted sheepishly, feeling bad that you were taking refuge in his house.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugged his shoulders as he smiled, “it’s a frog strangler.” 

“Excuse me?” you turned towards him surprised, lips pressed into a smile as he chuckled softly.

“Just means that it’s rainin’ hard enough to drown the frogs,” he shrugged his shoulders, “kinda silly I guess.” You laughed at that.

The dim lights lit up his features, his sharp nose and his twinkling eyes. He still watched you with interest, in awe as your heart beat roughly against your chest.

“I really like you Baron,” you whispered softly, “thank you for today.” You added next, hoping that you weren’t embarrassing yourself. 

“I like you lots too,” he was chuckling in that soft manner, his cheeks soft from how hard he was smiling, “a lot. You’re really pretty.” 

Your eyes traced over the curve of his lips, how soft and plump they were. His teeth were shiny too, smooth and even. You weren’t sure if he really knew how attractive he was.

You leaned forward slowly, tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear as he snapped his warm eyes up towards you. They were pretty and hazel, twinkling again. He slowly parted his lips, a tension between you two fizzling as he slowly started to lean forward. 

His lips were pursed into a smile as you met his mouth, slow and gentle. He tasted sweet, his lips smooth and soft. He paid special attention to your top lip as he kissed you slowly, nose dragging against your cheek as his large hands went up to grip your neck. 

A shiver spread through your spine, making your tummy lurch as you eagerly kissed him back with passion. A soft exhale left him, making you giggle as you continually pressed little kisses to his lips. 

“Wow,” his laugh vibrated across your mouth, making you smile as your nose brushed against his. His fingers were digging into your neck gently, electricity burning through you, “that was real nice.” He was smiling brightly, making you laugh again as you dropped your head against his softly. 

“It was,” you hummed, nose bumping against his as you pecked his lips repeatedly, “you taste good.” You whispered, squeaking softly at the way he slowly crawled over your body. 

Your heart beat roughly inside of your chest as you peered up at him in surprise, eyes widening as you bit down on your bottom lip. Baron gave you a cheeky smile, eyes shining as he reached down and connected your lips once again. 

A gasp left you from the sensation, your legs spreading as you invited him closer to you. You slowly drifted your fingers down his spine, enjoying the way he shivered as you flicked your tongue out to trace the curve of his mouth. 

His long hair twisted easily through your fingers, earning a little groan from him as he deepened the kiss. Electricity fizzled between the two of you, making you shudder as he slowly pressed himself down against you. 

You cried out at the feeling of him rocking his hips forward against your clothed cunt, a fire buzzing between the two of you as his large hands fell to your sides to roam at your curves. Everything inside of you was burning as you leaned forward, enjoying the way his hands shook as he slowly undressed you. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, cheeks burning as he fully admired you. He observed you like you were special, like he’d never seen something so beautiful before, “is this alright?” A timidness settled over him for a second before you grabbed his hands, placing them over the curve of your boobs. 

You shared a little laugh, noses brushing as he dragged his fingers across your nipples slowly. A moan left you as you shifted yourself closer to him, sighing at the way he kissed down the length of your body.

Baron’s kisses were soft and smooth as he paid special attention to your tits, then to your abdomen and across your tummy. He was attentive as he continually glanced up towards you, like he was assuring himself that you were enjoying this before he spread your folds to fully inspect you. 

A groan fell from him as he dipped his face down, nose brushing against your wet folds softly. You moaned at the sensation, body twitching underneath his touch as he inhaled deeply.

“You’re real pretty, smell real good too,” Baron mumbled as he pushed his long hair behind his ears, “I’ll take real good care of ya, promise.” His reassurances were soft as he leaned further down, sticking his tongue out and licking across your pussy entirely. 

You whined much louder than you meant to, your body jolting at the pleasurable sensation. His tongue was brought and firm, making you whimper as you instantly reached down to tangle your fingers through his long locks. 

Baron licked at your cunt like a starving man, fingers digging into your hips as he flicked his tongue across your slick folds and your aching clit. He sounded just as enthusiastic as he groaned deeply, burying himself even deeper between your legs. 

The thunder covered your moans as you cried out, eyebrows furrowing together as you tugged on his hair harder. You whimpered as you rutted your hips up against his greedy mouth, sighing in bliss. 

One thick finger pressed against your aching hole, pushing into your spongy walls slowly as you dropped your head back against the sofa. He curled his long digit slowly, pressing up against your bundle of nerves as your heels dug into the mattress. 

He wrapped his lips around his clit, sucking softly before flicking the tip of his tongue languidly across your bundle of nerves. You twisted his hair harder between your fingertips, whining as you fucked yourself across his face and finger. 

“Baron,” you whined as he stretched your tight cunt with his second finger, making you whimper in bliss at the way he curled them deep inside of you. A white hot sensation was beginning to spread inside of you, your eyebrows furrowing together as you became putty in his hands, “oh my God. Oh God.” You squeaked out, shaking as your orgasm crashed over you.

The thunder once again struck at the correct time, covering up your loud moans as you shook underneath him. Baron was still greedily lapping at your cunt, kissing across your clit as he slowly stilled his fingers inside you.

“Took the lord’s name in vain,” he told you softly as he peered up at you, lips all swollen and slick, “was that good?” He was watching you hopefully, making you giggle as you squirmed underneath him.

“Sorry, and yeah. It was really good. Wow.” You giggled as you pulled him up towards you, dragging your lips against his with urgency. He groaned as you tasted yourself on his lips, his hardened cock pressing against the back of your thigh. 

You reached up, grinning as you began to tug his overalls off and then his shirt. You pressed your lips together in awe as you dragged your eyes across his body. He was scrawny, yet soft in all the right places. His chest was full of thick hair, dragging all the way down into his boxers.

You exhaled deeply as you pulled his boxers down, gasping at the way his hard cock popped free and rested against his abdomen. It was long and thick, curved up against his abdomen. His leaky tip was resting against against his skin, coating his hair as a little moan left you.

“Oh Go-Gosh, you’re big,” you giggled softly, “wow. I wanna feel you so badly.” You whispered as you spread yourself wider for him, enjoying how his flush spread down to his neck. 

“Yeah, you’re beautiful,” Baron groaned softly, eyes fluttered as he pressed his thick tip against your slick cunt, “so wet for me, darling. All for me.” He moaned as he wrapped his long fingers around the thickest part of his cock, slowly pushing his slick tip into your wet heat. 

You gripped at his biceps, moaning as he slowly bullied his thick cock into your tight heat. Little gasps were leaving your lips as your thighs trembled in awe, whining incoherently as your cunt stretched around his thick girth. He was so big that you could feel the air leaving your lungs, struggle to catch your breath as a slight discomfort filled you. Nothing terrible, something that actually felt good.

“Baron,” you whispered his nose slowly, nose dragging against his as moans continued to leave your lips. You’d never been so stretched before, so full, “you feel so good inside of me.” You moaned as he bottomed out inside of you, his features pinched together in pleasure. 

His hands were trembling against your hips as he looked down at where your bodies met, groaning as he peered at the way your cunt was squeezing his cock. His tongue was partially sticking out, his eyes shut as he savored the way you felt around his throbbing dick. 

A loud exhale left him, his warm breath coating your face as he groaned deeply in pleasure, cheeks all soft and rosy. His brows were slightly furrowed together, mouth parted as he slowly began to drag his cock in and out of your wet cunt. 

Moans continued to fall from both of you, mingling in a heavenly way as you reached up to grab his bicep. Your toes were curling in pleasure as you wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass as you felt your pussy quivering around his girth. 

Every little thrust pushed you deeper into the couch cushions, the tip of his dick pressing against your bundle of nerves. You cried out as you tossed your head back in bliss, squealing as you clung to him. 

The sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, mixing with the sounds both of you were making. You reached up to grip the back of his neck, taking hold of the hair that was resting there. 

You’d never felt so good before, felt so much passion as you rocked yourself up against the curve of his cock. Everything inside of you was burning, pulsing as you tugged him towards you again. 

His mouth was warm against yours, lips smooth and soft just as they were before. Your tummy twisted in pleasure as you kissed at him in desperation, trying to conceal your loud moans as he continued to rut his cock deep into you. 

If you weren’t a goner before, you certainly were now.

Your thighs pressed against the side of his waist tightly, your moans vibrating across his mouth as you reached your high. Your pussy clamped down around his girth, squeezing him roughly as you came. 

Baron grunted loudly against your mouth as his thrusts became harder and deeper, making you see stars as he continually hit his bundle of nerves. You licked away his moans, savoring how they grew louder and whinier as he began to lose his control.

His hips stuttered as he thrusted forward once, twice, then pressed himself deep inside of you at the third one. His balls were flush against your body as he came inside you, whining even louder as you desperately kissed his lips.

It was all sloppy and wet as you drooled into one another, tongues brushing as your chests fell and rose in harmony. His skin was all flushed and warm, sweaty as you pulled away to push his hair off of his forehead. 

You breathed in deeply as you stared at those pretty hazel eyes, grinning at the way he admired you. You were looking at him in a similar manner, savoring how handsome he was. 

Baron had always cared about his appearance; after all, he loved looking good for his wife. Ever since their little daughter was born, he paid even more attention to hygiene.

He had been home for a long time; he had postponed some of his plans and schedules for their daughter, Nova. The little girl was just a 4-month-old baby and naturally very sensitive, so they had to be extremely careful.

As Baron slowly started stepping back into the work environment, he had to stay away from home for two weeks. After plenty of photos, videos, video chats, and voice notes, he was finally home.​When he was away, he hadn't really minded his stubble; honestly, he liked the rugged look it gave him and had let it grow out.

She while putting away the things he brought back, also wanted him to finally spend some time with his little girl. He held his little daughter with great care and was fussing over her. He hadn't seen Nova for only two weeks, but he had missed her like crazy.

He stared at the baby's curious, big brown eyes for a moment, and a huge smile slowly spread across his face.

Sometimes, he held his breath while showing her affection, as if the slightest movement would break the moment. But this time, he couldn't resist, and with the longing of weeks, he planted a huge kiss on the baby's cheek.​

Nova initially turned her face toward him with a classic baby reflex, but then she grimaced because of his stubble. The moment Baron saw this, he looked at her with wide eyes.

​"I'm sorry, sweetie... I didn't mean to do that. It really bothered you, didn't it?" Baron instantly felt as if he had committed a major crime. He looked at Nova's disgruntled face for a moment, then carefully placed her in the baby carrier and buckled it. He went straight to the bathroom; he could hear his wife doing something in the kitchen.

First, he carefully wet and softened his beard, then squeezed a reasonable amount of shaving cream and started spreading it over his face. Meanwhile, Nova was curiously inspecting the bathroom, her eyes wandering over the lights and the patterned marble.​

Baron looked at her tiny face for a moment. When their eyes met, he smiled softly. "How could your daddy forget this, right sweetie?" he murmured in a quiet, warm tone. He wet the razor first and then carefully started using it from bottom to top.

As Nova watched her father with her tiny, slightly open mouth, she slowly began to doze off. Baron was being extra careful since he was holding her. "Almost done with the first pass, sweetie, then I'll be your smooth-faced daddy again." After all, making sure his daughter's face didn't get irritated was much more important.​

As the scent of coconut-scented shaving gel filled the air, he worked meticulously to achieve clean skin. Meanwhile, she must have heard the talking, as she approached and came over curiously, looking at them in surprise. "Baron... What on earth are you guys doing?"

Baron paused while shaving and turned his head slightly toward her; there were still traces of foam on half of his face. "Nova doesn't like my stubble," he confessed with an embarrassed shrug, "she was crying every time I held her."​

The razor paused at the level of his jawline as he waited for her reaction—maybe she thought he was being dramatic? But he didn't want to take that risk. She raised an eyebrow slightly. Could Nova really distinguish it that clearly? Or was she just reacting to the unfamiliar sensation?

​"She grimaced as if she were disgusted. Plus, I don't want to hurt her skin..." Then he completely wiped the foam off his face. "The kid has very strong opinions about beards."

​"Baby-faced Baron... mm, delicious." The corners of Baron's lips twitched, trying to suppress his smile. "Delicious?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow. His wife finding his clean-shaven face endearing boosted his ego a bit.​He finished his shave quickly, rinsed off the last remnants of foam, and turned to Nova in the carrier. He had no beard now; he slowly leaned in... testing to see if she would approve this time.

​But Nova, like any baby, had already reached her sleep hour; she looked at him with the same blank stare and yawned softly. Baron pouted slightly. "You might not be able to talk, but you could at least smile, sweetie."

She laughed and gently took his face in her hands. "Don't worry, I appreciate you very much, honey." Baron smiled softly and gently placed his hand over hers. "I'd better take Nova to her crib..." "Yes, put her to bed nicely, and then come back to me so I can enjoy this face of yours for a bit."​

Baron froze in his tracks upon hearing this after taking a few steps and looked at her. She laughed and shrugged her shoulders slightly. "After all, our daughter isn't the only one who missed you..." Baron swallowed hard at her flirtatious response.

​"Looks like bedtime has arrived for our beautiful daughter. I will definitely make sure she falls into a deep sleep, yes." And the moment he finished his sentence, he was out of the bathroom. She laughed behind his back and shook her head.​

She had returned to the kitchen to busy herself with the food, but a little while later, Baron came and practically glued himself to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist from behind. He buried his face in the crook of her shoulder.

She laughed, her hand gently sliding through his hair. "I was just preparing the food..." "Forget the food, we never know what might happen." When he instantly spun her around and sat her on the counter, a soft giggle escaped the girl.​"Here? On the counter? I'm cooking here, Baron."

Yet, Baron had already grabbed her by the hips and pulled her close, running his hands along her thighs and leaning in until there was no distance left between their faces.​"You know kissing you is my favorite thing..." Baron murmured as he planted a small kiss on her lips. "But I can't say the same about taking clothes off..." and taking off his shirt was just as fast.

She raised her arms and didn't even protest. Baron's hands instantly found her shorts, leaving small kisses and bites on her inner thighs as he pulled them off. "And then you ask 'why you're so impatient?' hm?" She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck while wrapping her legs around him as well.​Baron took this opportunity to easily lift her off the narrow counter and lay her down on the nearby table, his lips hovering like a ghost around the white lace details of her bra. "You've started to become a very dirty person."

​"Only we eat at this table, if you want, we can set it aside specifically for our fun?" She laughed at his absurd suggestion and shook her head, pulling him in to give him a deep kiss. Someone really needed to quiet him down, after all.​Her hands slid down during their kiss and found the hem of his shirt, slowly pulling it off while her hands roamed over his broad back. When they got the shirt off, their kisses paused for only a few seconds.

Baron's hands first wandered around her waist for a bit, squeezing her curves and feeling them in his palms, then slipped to the small of her back, causing her waist to arch like a bow. He was already hard, and thanks to their position, he began to create a slight friction between them.​ The sweet warmth created by the friction instantly quickened both of their breaths. Baron let out a muffled groan as he pressed his lips against her neck, right in that sensitive hollow she loved.

He slid his lips down to her collarbone, taking it between his teeth and gently biting. As the young woman's body tensed, a playful smile appeared on Baron's lips. "I haven't been able to touch you for two weeks..." he murmured, his voice sounding rougher than usual. "Long enough..." the girl replied. ​

He slowly slid his hand down to her hips, pulling her a bit closer to himself toward the edge of the table. The distance between them vanished completely.

The dark, possessive look in his eyes took the her breath away. Baron, without rushing but with a determined manner, continued to run his hands over her skin. He unclasped her lace bra with a single motion, never taking his eyes off hers for even a second.​"Baron..." she breathed out his name like a sigh as she felt herself melt under his intense gaze. "I'm right here, sweetheart..." he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.

Pushing the bra completely aside, he brought his lips down to her breasts, and her head back, completely surrendering to the smooth surface of the table. As his warm tongue and lips left traces on her skin, moving downward toward her stomach, her hands on his shoulders and arms tightened.​Baron gently bit her inner thigh again first, then planted a tiny kiss on the wet spot of her underwear with a smirk.

She winced at the slight pain, a soft whimper escaping her teeth, but she suppressed it by biting her lower lip at the immediate pleasure that followed.

Baron sat up as he hooked his fingers into the edge of her underwear and slowly slipped it off. Their breaths mingled, and under the dim kitchen light, Baron's shoulders, beginning to glisten with sweat, shined.​"I'm still thinking about setting the table aside, by the way,"

Baron whispered as his fingers gently caressed her G-spot. "Because this is definitely my favorite spot now. I didn't know our table was such a perfect size." She laughed involuntarily through her moans.​He watched her laugh with delight, slowly leaned his head down again, and traced his warm tongue along her vagina, slowly parting that little valley. Now and then he pressed tiny kisses around it, and the woman took pleasure even in the mere thought and feel of his smooth face.

She slid her hands into his hair and closed her eyes, her lips parting with a sigh. "Keep going..." Baron would never object to that; on the contrary, drawing even more confidence, he increased the pressure. As she groaned, her head slowly fell back, and when Baron lifted his gaze to watch her reaction, he couldn't hold back a low groan.​

His own hand slowly slid down to his jeans; he was swollen, and the tightness was overwhelming him now. He squeezed the bulge slightly with his hand. He pulled back a few inches and swallowed, licking his already wet lips.

​"I need you so much..." Hearing this desperate murmur, she gently took his chin and pulled him closer. Baron instantly moved over her again slowly and merged their lips.

​Her hand gently pushed his hand away and took its place. First, she stroked him a bit and enjoyed his muffled groans between their kisses. Unable to stop herself from giggling, she looked at him. "Actually, I agree with you. If I had a penis, it would definitely get hard looking at this face of yours."​

Baron looked at her in surprise and blinked. "Do you always have to say the weirdest things at moments like this?" "Don't worry, I don't have any plans of acquiring one yet." Baron rolled his eyes and laughed.

​"Now, if you'll excuse me, let me enjoy this a bit." Baron was just about to lick his fingers, wet with her arousal, when she caught his chin and lifted it. "You've enjoyed it enough, now take off your pants so I can see what else is smooth."

Baron shook his head laughing, pulled back slightly, and began to shed the rest of his clothes. "You're the one who is really dirty..." She looked at him as if offended. "What? I'm just sharing my excitement..."

When Baron was completely naked, she bit her lower lip slightly. "God really created you with extra care." Baron responded to her words with a slight smile and, without waiting any longer, brought their lips together again.

When their lips met again, there was no room left for jokes or delay. Baron's kiss was deep, possessive, and intense, as if trying to settle the entire bill of their two-week separation.Her hands instantly wrapped around Baron's bare, smooth shoulders; she gently dug her nails into his tense muscles, writhing with the impatience of the familiar, warm wave rising from within her.

Without pausing even while kissing, Baron slid his hands down to her thighs and gently guided her to wrap her legs around his waist. When she wrapped her legs tightly around his strong waist, Baron's pelvis pressed directly against the warm, wet center he was searching for.

Deep, shaky breaths escaped both of them at the same time.​"I suppose you've seen everything that is smooth now?" Baron whispered, parting his lips barely a millimeter from her wet ones, looking directly into her eyes. Left breathless under his gaze, she could only nod slightly. "Baron... please," she murmured, no longer having the strength to wait any longer.

​Baron smirked slightly at her submissive tone, but he didn't want to tease her any further. Slowly pushing his hips forward, he surrendered himself into her warmth with a single, decisive, and deep thrust.​The loud moan spilling from her mouth was lost to the echoing walls of the kitchen. Her hands reflexively climbed up Baron's back, her fingers searching for a hold on his broad shoulders. Feeling so completely filled, that intense and warm sensation of fullness made her head spin.

Baron closed his eyes tightly at the incredible tightness and warmth he felt, pausing as he gritted his teeth. To keep himself in check, he buried his head in her neck, breathless, for a few seconds.

​"No, no, I'm fine..." she whispered, trying to catch her breath while gently pushing her hips against his. This small movement was enough for Baron to completely lose control.​Placing his hands on the table to support himself on either side of her, he began to find his rhythm. Each thrust was slow but as deep and heavy as possible.

As her back slid slightly across the smooth wooden table with each movement, Baron's wet, smooth chin rubbed against her neck and breasts; the sweet scent of coconut he left behind heavily weighted the lust-filled air in the kitchen.

The rhythmic friction sounds rising from the kitchen, the deep sighs, and her uncontrollable moans contrasted sharply with the peaceful silence in the next room where Nova slept soundly. With every thrust, Baron never took his eyes off her, watching her writhe in pleasure.

Floating on the edge of pleasure, she dug her nails deep into his back. She had already completely stopped holding back her moans.​

With Baron quickening his pace, the air in the kitchen felt almost electrified. Each of his thrusts was so deep and targeted that his wife had to throw her head back and press it against the cold surface of the table every time. The contrast between the cold wood and the burning heat radiating from Baron's skin was enough to drive her crazy with pleasure.

​He buried his lips in her neck again, gently sinking his teeth into that delicate skin and sucking as he continued to drive his hips with the same relentless rhythm. With that sweet ache in her neck, the woman surrendered herself completely to his rhythm. While Baron's broad, sweaty shoulders glistened under the dim kitchen light, she ran her hands over his tight chest muscles, down to his flat stomach and his hips that tensed with each movement. With every in-and-out of Baron, the wet, rhythmic sounds between them echoed off the kitchen walls.

​When Baron felt the woman nearing the peak of pleasure, he took his hands off the table and placed them under the her hips. He lifted her slightly toward himself, making the angle even steeper.​With this movement, a high-pitched, uncontrolled gasp was about to escape her mouth, but Baron instantly leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. "Be quiet, sweetheart... we wouldn't want to leave our business unfinished..." and without waiting for an answer, he pressed his lips against hers again.

Their kisses were fierce and breathless, as if trying to quench the wild hunger inside them. Baron groaned into her mouth as he quickened his thrusts. With the immense fullness and speed she felt inside, she knew she couldn't last much longer. As her muscles began to squeeze wildly around Baron, she turned her head away from the kiss and let out a deep moan. Locking her legs around his waist, she experienced her first release.

The tight clenching and trembling of her insides dragged Baron over the edge within seconds. After delivering a few more hard, deep thrusts amidst her sweet spasms, Baron released himself completely inside her with a low, throaty groan.​

They both remained tightly clung to each other on the table right next to the kitchen counter, completely out of breath. Resting their foreheads together, both of their chests rose and fell rapidly.

Baron smiled softly, his hair clinging to his forehead, and planted a tender kiss on her cheek. "Now..." he said, trying to steady his breathing. "...I think we can really keep this table strictly for us. It earned it."​

She still feeling that sweet languor, giggled softly and placed her hands on his smooth cheek. "You're an idiot, Baron... When are we going to finish the food anyway?" Baron kissed her hand and smirked playfully. "Food can wait, sweetheart. But I'm not quite done with you yet."

​But their moment was broken by a tiny crying sound; both of them instantly froze and focused on their daughter's voice for a few seconds. "Well, I guess we have to postpone it then. Switching to real food won't be a problem."

She was laughed at his expression, and they both pulled apart to gather themselves. Baron called out as he quickly tidied up his clothes, "I'm coming, sweetie! I know you missed your daddy like crazy!" He quickly planted a kiss on her cheek, pulled his shirt back on just as fast, and headed toward their daughter's room..

​─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: . 🍂 ​ ｡ﾟ☆: . ───

author's note: I’d love to hear your thoughts—comments and reblogs truly make my day! My inbox is also open for requests, so feel free to send me any ideas. Also, please excuse any potential errors, as English isn’t my first language and I’m writing this at a very late hour. Thank you for reading! 🤎 MMMWAH!

"That's the fourth planet in this cycle," you say deliberately, while noticing his aggressive scent unleashing a certain anger in you as well. If you're not careful, this will end in a fight. Or is that exactly what he wants? It wouldn't be the first time you've taken out your frustrations on each other. "You won't find what you're looking for in the stars." Now you've gone too far. With a roar, the Baron pulls himself away from the spaceship's console and slams you against the cockpit wall by pushing his chest into yours. You immediately reach for the spear on your back, but he's faster: With a precise and calculated movement, he catches your hand and redirects it away from the weapon. Using his other hand, he reaches around you from the other side, pulls the spear from its anchor in your armour and throws it carelessly to the side where it lands with a clatter on the floor. You and your opponent both growl, mandibles open to threaten and impress, to read each other's scent and intentions. Your insolence is an affront and an act of presumption - you both know it - but it's too late to take back your words. Instead, the Baron presses you against the wall, puts one hand on your throat and makes it unmistakably clear that one does not question a superior.

Your mandibles fold back; it's more of a staring contest than open aggression now. Since you've already got him all worked up, why not kick him while he's down?

"Did the council approve your list of planets?" you ask hoarsely, voice dulled by the hand on your throat. “Did they approve every hunt? Every single one that you think isn't good enough for you? Or are you doing all this under the cloak of deception?” He grunts, neither amused nor appreciative of these words. He certainly doesn't respond to these questions with a mere growl, because his response is as follows: He takes a slight swing and then rams his fist into your stomach. A dull, pressing pain instantly explodes in the centre of your body, and you hiss in pain - but this is still a very restrained punishment for your presumptuous behaviour by his standards. Normally, he would throw you across the cockpit and engage you in a fight, would not let go until you're bleeding profusely. It wouldn't be the first time you've challenged him and he's challenged you in return. It's a whole thing you two have going on. Instead of fighting back, you grab his belt and push aside the metal loincloth. Your hand follows the leather straps that hold the belt and weapon holder in place, quickly finding the target of this intimate, impulsive search: your hand closes around his erect cock, twitching impatiently, accustomed to your attention. Is he really that stressed? If yes, then you'll gladly offer to take care of that for him. What warrior would say no to a little fun, a fight of a very special kind? Certainly not the Baron, who is only too happy to put his hand between your legs and demand satisfaction. And after a brief, intense struggle to set the mood, you always do exactly that. You grab him firmly with your hand and run it up and down his length; meanwhile, he grabs your locks and pulls you closer to the wall, his gaze fixed on you as if he wants to supervise the work. Pilots are all the same. They always have to keep a close eye on everything. After the initial slow pumping motion, he tightens his grip on your locks, sending a pleasant shiver down your neck scales. He knows exactly how to give him a good time. Stress relief. Your hand moves faster now, varying the pressure it exerts. You apply less pressure at the base and more at the tip, moving in a way that follows his anatomy. He's hard - very hard - and his pelvis is nestling against your touch. Apparently, a lot has built up over the past sub-cycles, and today it has manifested itself as him angrily cursing about his faulty sensors. All he had to do to get your expert help was ask! But none of the flying warriors can do that - expose themselves by asking and starting a proper mating ritual. They always have to argue first instead of going straight to an erotic battle of strength. The Baron always makes things more complicated than necessary because he has the ego of a council member. And that despite the fact that he himself has only been wearing his mark for a few cycles!

He grunts and presses you closer to the wall. This is a clear sign that he wants more and wants it faster, so you comply with his request and speed up your pumping movements. Occasionally, you brush over his tip as you do so, feeling the soft, warm skin and enjoying the soft growl - or purr? - that vibrates almost imperceptibly in his chest. After two or three minutes, his breathing becomes shallower and more irregular. He groans and presses his face into the crook of your neck, inhales your scent; he inhales the arousal and the desire to give him release. He rubs his pelvis against yours, encouraging the movements of your hand on his shaft. The first drops of hot semen cover the tip of his cock.

Then, with a deep, throaty groan, you push him over the edge and he climaxes, spilling hot liquid between your bodies. Your hand and both of your armours are now wet with the slightly sticky liquid, while he takes a deep breath and hisses a content growl against the scales of your neck.