#bcus same

boba feels as though his composure could almost shatter at your words, how bold and empowered you’d become under his deft fingers, his lustful gaze.

he was flattered by how unabashedly you wanted him. from the first moment he saw you, he knew what lewd thoughts were flying through your head just by the way you looked at him. at first, he was only going to tease you; he wanted to see what kind of reactions he could wrangle out of you, to see how red you could blush. but now, it was something more. he wanted you on a deeper level. he wanted to run his fingers along your every curve, wanted to memorise every shape, every gasp, every moan; he’d swallow all of you in a heartbeat.

you weren’t like the women he’d meet in private clubs, women who were only interested in his money. women who would climb in bed with him and leave in the morning without so much as a goodbye. he could tell you were itching, just as much as he, to undress him, his soul, to figure him out. maybe one day he’d let you.

“boba..” you whine, turning his face with your fingers to kiss him deeply, and he falters for a moment before he melts into your soft lips, his heart aching in his chest.

his fingers, guided by your eager hand, dip between your thighs to run the length of your heat. immediately you’re moaning into his mouth, the pads of his fingers gathering your slick before he starts a slow circle on your clit and you keen into the kiss.

“princess..” he groans against your lips, his breath hot, the smell of whiskey hitting the back of your throat. “you’re soaking.”

you’re gasping and whimpering into his mouth as he kisses you deeper, tongue and teeth and brutal passion and it sends you yearning all over again. he picks up his motions, circles growing in a crescendo and his other hand follows suit, pinching and teasing your nipple in tandem until you’re a pliant mess beneath him.

the rolling of pleasure through your body, from your lips to your toes, burns scaldingly hot under his fingers, his kisses growing more and more frantic until you’re teetering on the very edge of your release, your stomach tight and body tensed.

“boba-!” your voice is high pitched, breathy and foreign to your ears and you probably wouldn’t recognise yourself if not for the moan boba emits against your lips in reply, breaking the kiss to suck messily along the junction of your neck.

“‘m close.. fuck!”

boba doesn’t let up his motions, keeping his calculated pace until he feels your cunt twitching in preparation for your orgasm under his fingers.

“not yet.” he whispers against the shell of your ear. “hold on for me princess.”

you’d slap him if you could, desperate and rearing for your release, your heartbeat thumping in your temples, but you try to hold off for him.

with a whine of protest from deep in your throat, he releases your nipple from his grasp and instead curls his thumb and fingers around the tender flesh of your neck. your breathing stutters somehow heavier than before, heart pounding beneath his fingertips and you’re sure he can feel the way your cunt grows even slicker with arousal when he gives a testing squeeze.

your fingernails dig into where they hold purchase on the broad and fleshy slope of his shoulder, your toes curling as the pressure builds and builds and god you weren’t sure you could hold out any longer, your eyes squeezing shut and head falling back to rest on his shoulder, mouth open and chest heaving as you focus on that overwhelming sensation building.

and it’s just as you do so that his grip tightens on your throat, his fingers pressing even more purposefully in their circles on your clit, and his lips fan his hot heavy breath right against your ear.

“cum for me.”

and you do. the pleasure crashes almost painfully, a wave breaking on a rocky shore as white hot bliss courses through your veins, pricking every nerve along your skin as it does. raw and guttural moans and cries of pleasure fall from your parted lips, sounds which boba is sure he’ll be remembering next time you sit for him to paint. he’d etch them into the brush strokes if it were possible. your cunt squeezes almost painfully around nothing as you continue to orgasm, the emptiness prominent and obvious.

"soon, little one." boba purrs against your skin as he mirrors your thoughts, his voice having dropped an octave as his circles slow with your release, your pussy still twitching with his touch.

"soon."

and it's a promise.

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