#benedictxreader

You knelt down in front of him, his legs spread wide to accommodate your distance, or lack of. He was the first man to buy out a five year contract for you. The first to have you. His fingers were delicate against the back of your neck, the slow steady slide against your skin. Your eyes closed, head dropping further in a sign of your submission for him. You didn't know your bidding price at the silent auction and you had no desire to ask. All you had was the need to please him.

“My pet.” His voice was deep, sensual, making your skin prickle. The first two words besides the command given to kneel before him. You have not yet seen his face, not allowed too yet. You awaited his command. None came, so you waited. Waited until you felt the sleek leather band settle against your neck, the cold steel tag dangling down from the 'd' ring that jutted out.

He was gentle as he buckled the collar around your neck, let his finger slide between the leather and your skin to check the ample room. He was satisfied fore he locked the buckle in place with a small lock. The small 'click' as it shut made you shiver. You were his. Collared. Bound.

“Look at me.” It was the command you were waiting for. You slowly lifted your eyes and caught his own. They were the oddest shade of blue and green and they were very calm. He was beautiful. He had his hair long, swept back to curve down his neck, black, but you could see the roots were tinged orange. His lips, that mouth, you wanted to taste it. To hear words roll across his tongue.

“My name is Benedict, but you will call me 'Sir' in company and 'Ben' in private, unless I state otherwise. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your voice barely let out a tremor.

His hand settled on your cheek, his thumb stroking just beneath your eye.

“Very good.” His smile caught you off guard, the beautiful twist curl of lips and blaring sheen of teeth. “And what is it that you wish to do?”

No tacked on name. Nothing demeaning. No bitch or slut. Not slave or concubine. It was a respect that made your chest swell with adoration, with the complete service you wanted to render to him.

“Whatever it is that pleases you, Sir.”

His smile widened as did his legs, knees spreading out as his hand curled around to cup the back of your head, guiding you forward. You could see the erection straining against his black slacks, the thick outline curved upwards against his thigh.

“Then please me.”

Your mouth came to curl around his erection through his slacks, tonguing the hard heat easily as your hands slipped up to his hips, fingers dipping beneath the material to tug at it, moving it down his lean hips. He obliged you enough to lift up in his chair, letting you guide the material down to his knees, your mouth only moving to relieve the covering.

A surprise came to you as you saw your new master wearing no underwear, leaving his lower half exposed. His cock bobbed in front of you mouth, heavy and thick. You ran your finger along the underside, making him jerk. His hand tightened in your hair, pulled you forward until the tip danced along your lower lip. You opened your mouth, slid the head past and suckled softly, teeth catching very finely against the rim.

“Harder.” He groaned out and you did little else but obey, your sucking intensifying, taking him deeper in your mouth. His hips jerked up as he kept your head still, slowly fucking into your mouth. His hands curled on his thighs, pulling yourself closer. His breath was heavy as he sped up, your tongue sweeping deftly along the vein on the underside. He moaned out loudly, his fingers digging into your scalp as he thrusted up once more, spilling into your mouth.

You swallowed around his cock, your hands splaying out to grip his thighs until his hand settled in your hair, petting it idly as he tried to control his breathing, control his body.

“Good girl.”

 It was beginning to become late in the morning and Benedict wasn't yet down from the night previous. There was a wrap party and he had a little bit more than usual to drink and that had sent your mind in a fury. As a PA to one of the most wanted British actors in the country, you had a job to do, and that included getting your employer to all of his meetings on time. One of the things he was failing miserably at that moment.

It was how you found yourself lightly tapping on the solid wooden door of his bedroom with your curled knuckles, waiting impatiently for an answer. When none came you opened the door a crack and peeked in. A tuft of dark hair stuck out from beneath the blankets on the bed, light snoring filling the room. Yeah. He was dead.

Light bled through the curtains, casting a golden hue in the room that made it seem ethereal. You took your time as you made your way to his large bed, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder and in an instant he was awake, shoving himself away as a cascade of feathers spilled forth from the blankets, spreading wide and nearly knocking you over. Both Ben and yourself stared wide eyed at each other, both breathing hard, and both very confused. Your eyes strayed to the massive wings that sprouted from between his shoulder blades, feathers poofing in the excitement.

“Ben, you better have an explanation...”

The wings settled a little, folding behind Ben in a proper manner before the man spoke.

“A mutation.”

You stared at him, unblinking, lips curling down in a slight frown.

“One you have hidden for thirty-six years.” It wasn't a question as your tone fell flat from your tongue, eyes still not able to look from the pearly feathers. Ben did move, dipping his head to catch your gaze.

“Stop staring.”

Your eyes flick down, brow furrowing.

“I don't understand. I mean, you have done so many scenes without a shirt, and the make-up department has never...they are so big.”

That draws a deep laugh from him and he shifts on the bed, sitting cross legged with the wings arching behind him gracefully, showing off almost. Your eyes fall onto them again.

“And thus your powers of observation never cease to amaze me.” The wings flicker slightly before they disappear. A sudden feeling of sadness tightens in your chest at the lost image. “I can make them visible to those whom I wish.” They reappear once again, flexing outwards. “More or less. It is a trick of the mind.”

You shift from one foot to the other, your palms itching to reach out and touch them. To feel if they were soft or scratchy. To see the color for yourself. Ben lets a wing beat out, the tip of a primary feather touching the ground. When he spoke his voice was once again low, deep, a rumble in his chest a that warmed your mind.

“Go ahead. But be careful of the coverts. They are sensitive.”

A slight nod was given as you reached out, running your fingers along the edge of a large primary, stroking down as to not mess up the barb. You felt Ben shudder, the wing stretching out even more. Your hand rested on the wing bone, stroking upwards, fingertips brushing into the soft duvet of feathers that led inward.

Ben took a sharp intake of breath, the wings feathers puffing up again, making them seem bigger. More open. Curiosity overtook as you took seat on the edge of the bed, inspecting them closer. They were a rich white color, pure as snow with a slight pink sheen to them, near the base. Your fingers spread the feathers apart, watching as the color shifted.

“They are beautiful.”

This time he laughed but it was a bit ragged, almost forced. The wing moved upwards, touching the ceiling but it let you see the long feathers beneath that were used for catching wind, for flying. Could he fly? The thought was exciting. You ducked beneath and let your hand pet the back, the muscle hard and powerful beneath the touch. The touches were light enough, you though, respectful until you felt behind Ben to the base of wing where it met his back where a wetness coated your fingers.

It was an odd slickness, one not like water but thicker. With a gentle swoop you coated two digits with the substance and brought it back to your nose, sniffing curiously. It was heady, musky.

Ben’s gaze was predatory as you licked your lips, parted to taste what it was and found it was an oil.

“It is a set of glans at the base of my wings that secrete and oil used for cleaning the feathers and mating.” His hand took yours, elegant finger circling your wrist as the other hand rubbed the oils downwards, small circles into your palm, dragging it down your forearm. It made you dizzy, a fuzzy edging around your mind. Closing your eyes in attempt to rid yourself of the warm nausea you let the questions that floated in your mind spill forth.

“Do they need to be cleaned?”

Gentle lips press against your oil slicked wrist, his nose breathing in his scent on your skin.

“No.”

His lips pressed upwards, small kisses that ended as he took his tongue into the crook of your elbow, teeth biting ever so slightly. You swallowed thickly, watching as Ben uncovered himself from the sheet, his cock heavy between his legs, stiff and swollen and it made your own arousal respond in kind, a warm heat that tugged downwards.

His hands were gentle as the took the hem of your shirt and pulled it above your head, chucking it to the floor and quickly went to shed your brazier your breasts exposed to his needy mouth. His hand laid palm flat to your sternum and pushed you down, covering you with his lean frame, wings coming down to cocoon you both, a curtain of feathers that ticked your cheek and sides. His lips took a nipple between them, sucking softly as his fingers dragged along your sides, nails digging in slightly.

He only paused to work the button on your jeans, snapping them open and pulling them down hastily a new need set deep in his bones.

“Do you know how the oil works?” He spoke as his thumbs curled around the edge of your underwear, sliding them off your hips. “You wouldn't, would you?” They caught where your pants did, around your ankles, and it took a little work for you to toe your shoes off so he could slide the clothing off. “Let me tell you.”

You were naked beneath him then, his insistent erection pressed into your stomach as he took both of your hands and raised them above your head, grinding into you, spreading your legs with his knees. Your hips arched up, wanting to feel him. Let him bury his heat into you.

“Its a lubricant.” Not only did he explain but he began to show. He was flexible to take his hand and place it behind his shoulder, fingers rubbing into the glans, letting he oil flow. “I'm so wet,” His voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes never once leaving yours, demanding your attention. “So slick. I feel it running down my back. Coating my feathers.” His hand comes back glistening with his oils. A palm slides across your stomach, leaving a gleaming trail that lead downwards, chasing his hand, and he slipped two fingers down your sex, on either side, until they met just against your opening.

You began to feel hotter than usual, a slightly tingling of the flesh where he had touched before it turned into a more solid thrumming, your nerve endings sparking and heating. Your body arched up, seeking out for something, anything, and was greeted with a recoated hand, letting the oils coat between your legs.

“You smell like me now.” And it felt so primal.

You couldn't hold still, your hips moving in an ever gyrating motion, Ben's fingers poised just against where you wanted him most. The burning was intensifying and you felt you could release just from that. But Ben took a hold of your hip and slid his fingers deep within you, scissoring your wide, twisting and coating your insides with him.

His smile was easy as you looked at him, his eyes hooded. He brought his fingertips up to his mouth, tongue lapping at the combination of both you and him.

“Mine.”

The warning was only a short one as he slide into you, filling you with a full stretch, the oil and your own arousal aiding the dry push. He was both large and long and it had your arching into him, your hands grasping for his shoulders. His arms looped around your back, pulling you close. Your legs wrapped around his hips, angling them so he could bury himself deeper in. Each stroke set you alight, bringing you closer to your release.

His nails dug in as he strokes became long and deep, back bowing deep as he took you, a claim of your body, your mind. You clenched around him, body shuddering against his own. The strokes began to become erratic, short, faster. Your legs clenched him tighter against you, pulling him deeper.

The wings arched high over him, stretching out fully, nearly filling the whole room. Your fingers gripped them, the bone a soft curve under your fingers as he shuddered to a still, spilling himself inside of you with one last final thrust. The wings softened their extend, falling around the both of you again as he languidly stroked inside you. You hadn't come, not yet, but the way his fingers edge downwards again, pressing against your clitoris, rubbing small circles, it didn't take long for you to find the release of your own, shuddering against him, arching, your fingers taking a tight hold on his wings.

A smile had bloomed across his lips as he leaned down, pressing his open lips against yours in a soft kiss, your first kiss from him. His tongue touched yours tentatively, a flick and then a drawn in breath, a suckle on your own tongue. The kiss was short, brief in its own beauty but when your parted he took you into his arms, holding you close, wings shielding out any of the light from the bedroom.

“Can you cancel my press conferences for the day?”

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir." You gasp out as his finger reaches out and traces a tight circle around your nipple, the pad of his finger flicking over the little nub before he takes it between forefinger and thumb, pinching and watching it redden.

He has you stretched out on his hotel bed,  your hands and feet snared by silk ties, ones you have seen him wear before. Your eyes close, a flutter of lashes against your cheek as he leans down and takes your breast into his mouth, teeth catching the skin, his tongue lathing over the bite marks. God, he is so beautiful.

"Please, sir." You beg, your hips arching up off the bed, seeking out for the contact of his hands. It does come down, fingers spread wide and his palm against your navel, pushing you back down. He bites down against your nipple in warning and you cry out softly.

"I will take you when I see fit."

God, now. Please. A high keen is throated through the room from you, the noise needy and wanting and impossibly too hot for your own ears.

"Ben."

Your eyes flick open as you intake a sharp breath. The slap was unexpected and it felt so very good. The sting started at your thigh and spiraled up to your groin, wet and flush. His eyes kept your gaze and his eyebrow arched, elegant as usual, and he waited.

"Sir."

"Much better." He cooed as his hand swept over the red mark he had given before those long fingers crept upwards and stroked the outer-lings of your sex, the soft skin that covered the centered wetness. It brought a shiver from you as he kept two fingers on either side of you.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

It brought such a sensitivity to your skin and the ache climbed, making you arch higher into his touch, legs splaying open and the cool air struck you quickly.

"Please, sir. Please, I need you."

A pause. A finger slipped in.

"Yes." The word was hissed through clenched teeth as you tried to buck up but his other hand was against your stomach again and you felt the bed shift more than you saw him lean down between your legs, eyes hot as he looked up at you, his mouth kissing downwards.

  Your stomach. The crease of your hip. Your inner thigh.

His tongue darted out, tasting where  his finger was, moving in and out slowly. It was a single flick followed by another, and then another, moving upwards to your clit where his lips covered the little nerve ending, sucking hard.

Another finger slipped in with the first, two curling and thrusting and it was so good. So much. Your arms strained against the ties, your arms raising. You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, pull him closer.

A third slipped in, wiggled against the others and it was almost to much. Almost. You writhed against your bonds, mouth open and panting. Benedict hummed happily against your skin, his eyes catching yours again in a heady gaze.

"Sir..."

He smiled, knowing. His fingers thrust forward, a hit meant for friction more than pleasure. Your eyes screwed shut as he did it again, mouth opening and tongue licking the whole length of your sex. His fingers paced quicker, thrusting in deep.

His lips were against yours and you could taste yourself on his tongue. His body rocked down against your own in time to the movement of his three fingers, curling deep in you.

"Look at me." The demand was met instantly with your eyes on his.

Once. Twice.

You came with a silent cry, your mouth open wide, breath caught.

Benedict smiled, all teeth, and brought his hand up to your lips, his glistening thumb smearing your release against your bottom lip before slipping it against your teeth, pulling your jaw down and licking inside, tongue flicking before he took hold of your chin, keeping you steady as he pressed eagerly against you.