#chaosthots

steve harrington is a simple man who craves simple pleasures.

simple pleasures such as suggesting new positions every couple of nights, attempting to perfect each one. it started as a means to change things up and elevate your pleasure. he says it's essential research to make him a better teacher. you say that he's just horny.

but with each new position tried, comes a new fascination with a different part of your body. each time, it feels like he's found something new to worship at the altar of your bed.

at first, he was obsessed with your boobs. that's why both missionary and cowgirl were huge hits at first. he loved being able to mouth at your tits while being lost in the throes of pleasure. which escalated to the need to cradle your breasts when he'd rut into you in the early hours of the morning before you two needed to get up and dressed for the day. he'd grope them and lightly pinch your nipples until your gasping over the edge.

then his hands began to roam down to your stomach. he simply cupped the tender flesh at first, tracing over your skin. yet that quickly disappeared when he firmly pressed his palm against your low abdomen one morning, feeling the swell of himself inside of you.

recently, he'd been handsy with your ass; lightly swatting it when passing by or leaving red handprints that he'd kiss away and praise you over. he loved observing the way you'd fuck yourself back at him with your face pressed into the mattress, hands fisting at the bed sheets. that's how he currently had you, playfully spanking the skin before grabbing a handful - a reward for himself.

tet as you melted beneath him, your back arched, and exhaustion settled into your bones. you were losing the momentum to keep pace. but no worries, steve is happy to help. so he settles his large hands on your hips, ready to assist you and drill further into your needy cunt. but he feels the shift of your hips, how they spread to take him deeper, and it makes something in his go feral.

long after you're spent, he's buried himself between your thighs, peppering kisses and sucking lovebites into the flesh, occasionally nipping at you when he senses you're falling asleep.

when you and steve needed a moment away from the insanity of the upside down, you always snuck into the back seat of his beamer. it didn't offer the most room, but it was tried and true. that, and the leather of the backseat had become imbued with steve's cologne and musk each time the two of you fogged up the windows.