#breadhead x oc

He found himself at the end of their bed. A very noticeable tent rising in his pants. But he ignores it. Focusing instead on Fick and the way they dig their nails into his back. The way they hook a leg across his waist to try and pull him closer. “Please.” they begged. Desperate to touch him. Breadhead hadn't done this before. Fick knew that.

“Are you sure?” He asks. Voice low. Needing to know that, without a doubt, they want this. The words get lost in Fick’s throat. So instead they nod. Wordlessly telling him that they want this just as much as he does. Breadhead hesitates, his hands hovering just above Fick’s skin. They’re so tiny compared to him. What if he was too rough? 

Fick watches him carefully, seeing the hesitation in his touch. "You’re doing fine." They murmur. Reaching up to cradle his face the best they could. “No need to be scared.” 

He whimpered. That warm feeling in his chest came back, stronger than before. 

Pressing a hand to his crotch, they watch as he bites his lip. Poor thing looks so tight it hurts. Slowly, Fick undoes his belt. Unzipping his pants and tossing it to the ground alongside his jacket. The size difference between the two is impossible to ignore. His length barely fits in Fink’s hands. Looking down at them is enough to make him shutter.

They take the lead, stroking up and down until finding a pace he seems to enjoy. Using both hands instead of just one. And keeping eye contact the entire time. He says perfectly still, too afraid to move. That is until Fink speaks once again. “There you go, just like that…” The words sent shivers down his back. To him, Fick’s voice sounds like the first notes to his favorite melody. A tune he wont forget. Now the uncertainty he had before is gone. Replaced with the intoxicating need for more of whatever they were doing.       

Without skipping a beat, Fink keeps up the pace, pearls of pre leek from his tip. It's clear he won't last for much longer. But that's okay. First times never last that long.

Fink gives him a gentle smile while his breaths become heavy. They switch between a looser grip that makes his knees buckle and palming the head. Going in between the two and gauging his reaction.

Eventually, they lean down.

"F- Fick?" Breadhead stuttered out. Clear confusion on his face.

They stick their tongue out. Past a set of sharp teeth that could hurt. (For some reason, the very thought excites him.) And lick the tip. Collecting the pre that had begun to bead up and smear. Shallow, faster, pumps at the base. It's all too much. 

Fick gets no warning before he pulls their head down. His grip on their hair is tight. Tighter then he intended. For his effort, he managed to fit a few inches into their mouth. Before thick ropes of cum shoot down their throat. “I love you!” He blurts out. The only words he can form.  

A few moments later. With a soft pop. Fick pulls away. “Did you like it?” They ask.

He nods enthusiastically. Reaching a hand out to pet where he had pushed down. A silent apology. "Very much."

But there's still a hunger in his eyes.