Im being careful, I know what I’m doing…
Cw: 18+ !!
You feel groggy when you first wake up in the morning. Your arm moves lazily to feel the big hairy mammoth that would usually be lying with you, but your senses wake you up in realization and you sit up straight, your eyes move with your head, and you wake up to an empty bed "fuuhhcckk" you groan to yourself, you put on a shirt and walk out the room. The building you stayed in was vast, big enough to fit the number of people in Washington into one building, but you didn't need to look around the whole structure to find Miguel, you knew the one location he would be in, and you would frequently joke as the 'doom cave'.
The bright screens above you caused a slight blindness, and suddenly, a web shot from your arm, launching you onto the floor. Layla, who always brightened up your life, figuratively and literally, glitched on your shoulder. She kept you updated on the job Miguel couldn't do for seven months. "How long has he been up?" you asked her.
“Mmm” the bright yellow fairy tapped on her cheek before snapping her finger “For at least 5 hours, he sneaked out of the room for this”
You nodded slightly and Layla zips out of your view, now wanting to give you two the stage.
Miguel is in a shrimp stance that we can work with, holding a massive red flag and eyes the size of a bloodhound. He acknowledges your presence but chooses to ignore it as his fingers tap dance on the bright dance floors that fade after a minute; he was wearing a baby strap to support his hefty belly bump and couldn't perform work with just one hand. You knew your fetishes were strange, but you never imagined you'd be attracted by your husband in his robe, boxers with his soft package jutting out, pecs growing larger and strangely loaded with milk.
Stress was going to be the death of both him and the baby. He knew better, but the timeline needed to be followed and everyone required a check-up; you saw no reason for him to watch folks he didn't (or barely) know. Your hands glide up to his shoulders and squeeze him; his arms relax but his fingers remain frozen in the holograms; you see the chair you gave him at the beginning of Miguel's pregnancy from your peripheral view and shoot a rope to drag it closer; then you pat his back and whisper to his ear, "You should sit down."
Miguel's gaze never left the screen "Maybe" He kicked the chair out of the way, but you grabbed it swiftly. "Now, Miguel," you said.
"Later…" he said, his tone slightly angry.
You both weren't going to back down; you fired a web at his back and kicked the chair to him before pulling, just in time for him to sit down; he swore under his breath.
"Will you join me in bed and not sneak away again?" You ask, your hands back to firmly squeeze his shoulders, then you proceed to touch and milk his pecs, wetting the robe, "I have work to do" He repeats it, allowing it to stick with you because it is his only reason. Your mind wonders how a man can be so stubborn and independent yet, so loving and so un-independent. "You always have something to do," you remind him. "Take the day or even the week off." He slicks his hair back, brushing the strands away from his face.
Miguel hummed in response, returning to his grim work environment.
If you can't talk out of it with him, you might as well force him.
You keep squeezing his milky pecs; he usually keeps it quiet, but not when his hands slow down and tremble as he tries to do his job, keeping it hard while the warm liquid pours down your hands. Miguel's stern visage quickly softened, and you kept testing the waters, your lips haunting his neck with taunting teases.
Your hands move in a circular manner, and more golden milk flows like a fountain as you continue to squeeze his pecs. Miguel leans and squirms in his seat, while his cock expands and throbs uncomfortably in his underwear. He murmured under his breath, "Shockin' hell my love…" as the pre leaked through the fabric that grew thinner to hold his cock down. Miguel pulled down his boxers and his cock flung free, weeping precum and twitching under the belly.
Gasping for air, he called out her name “Lyla…” His body was drenched in sweat, and his heart was pounding out of his chest, as he collapsed into the chair. With every passing moment, his body temperature kept rising, and he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, making him feel hornier than ever before “…Silent mode for 45 minutes”
The room dims to a greater light; you continue to grope his chest and lean in, but he leans forward. His hands grip the desk as you place your hands on his chest, then move them to hold his waist. The head of your cock nudges against Miguel's entrance, teasing him as you pull down your sweatpants and thrust the tip into his entrance, resulting in gentle and low grunts. "Keep holding my waist honey…" he told you, as you kept thrusting slightly "don't stop… shock… shock…" he whispered as you shoved the entire length in "shock!!, Órale güey!!" He moans aloud.
