#bucatini

Spencer's in rare form today, lazy and languid like a cat. Usually, you're overjoyed when he's this way. This Spencer is the one that results in days spent tangled up in each other into the late morning, cooking together until the dead of night, reading together under the sun.

However, today his mood's a bit more infuriating to you than anything else.

It began wonderfully, waking up with him draped over you, slightly chapped lips mouthing at your jaw as he murmurs to you.

"Come on, angel... Time to wake up, please,"

His voice is low, vocal chords rumbling around each vowel. At the first sign of your wakening, he shifts, lips travelling lower and lower as he murmurs to you.

"Let's spend the day inside, huh? You've got the day off, and I can— I can call out sick, for once."

He's reached your chest, greedy hands pushing up your (his) shirt to brush his lips over your nipples. A deep, satisfied hum leaves the back of his throat, sending a thrill through you.

The beginnings of desire start to swirl deep in your belly, your sleep-addled brain mustering only a whine in response to his ministrations.

He hears you, though. A muffled laugh resounds agains the soft tissue of your breast, a large hand wrapping around your hip.

"Okay, I get it, no need to berate me."

He moves further, lips dragging down your stomach until he reaches your pelvis, laving his tongue over the the skin just above the waistband of your shorts.

"Can I, honey?"

His eyes dart up to watch you, pools of amber and nutmeg capturing your attention so wholly that you can barely remember what he asks.

It takes a second, but your hands eagerly respond to his question, shoving at your shorts until you clumsily get them down to your knees.

Another chuckles leaves his chest, his lithe fingers helping you shuck the shorts off your ankles. His mouth returns immediately, sucking at the sensitive skin over your hipbone, fingers digging into the plush of your skin indulgently.

You're on the edge, brimming with the anticipation of his mouth on your cunt, finally.

But he's taking his sweet time, dotting kisses up and down your hip as if his only goal is to madden you. Peering down at him, you can see his eyes are shut, all his attention lavished to teasing you like this.

Your voice is slowly coming back to you, so you finally pipe up.

"Spencer..."

Looking up at you, his eyes dance with amusement. He knows what he's doing, the asshole.

"What is it, baby?"

"Please? I want you to touch me."

He seems to melt immediately when you plead, having never had much willpower when it comes to resisting you.

Moving up to hover over your face, he dots a kiss to your lips, before squeezing your hip one more time.

"Okay, honey."