#damning

You relished in the warm weight on Andy's bare body on top of yours, both of you breathless, hungrily gulping the heavy scent of sex in the air.

You'd rather not think of the number of times he took you, your mouth, his mouth, his fingers, all of him, your stomach and core full. It made your head dizzy in the best possible way; but boy were you exhausted, aching and sensitive all over.

Andy's lips were tender and curled up in a smile as he pressed as kiss to your shoulder before he caressed your side and climbed to his feet slowly, kissing your lips before he went.

A murmur of ‘I love you’s was exchanged and you sighed, already missing him, but relaxing into the covers nevertheless, eyes closed and a smile on your lips. Focusing on the pleasant ache in your body, breathing in and out, you relished in the sound of Andy's quiet steps and in knowing he had gone to get a washcloth to clean up the mess. You were one lucky woman. Andy was a sweet caretaker; even as it made you chuckle that in his haste to take care of you – or perhaps his post orgasmic haze – he left the soft binds on your wrist in place.

Except his return was not marked by the feeling of gentle touch of a warm washcloth; nor by his occasional filthy habit of his wicked fingers gathering his spent and pushing it deep inside you where it belonged.

Snapping your eyes open, his name was a sigh of confusion and pleasure rippled from you when his palm settled on you belly the very moment the unmistakable buzz reached your ears and sent a shockwave through your clit, your body spasming lightly under his hand.

“Andy- I-”

He was smiling at you, dark eyes blown wide with desire, the wicked blink in his gaze a warning and an entice at once. The vibrator slid lower, an almost painful tease to your overstimulated flesh, until it fell silent, a shuddering breath escaping your parted lips as the realisation slowly dawned on you as to why your hands remained bound to the headboard.

Andy's voice was dripping sin, his lips a promise of heaven and damnation.

“Oh we're not done yet... as per your request,” he husked, the hand on your belly sliding down to cup your mound, the toy hovering near – a promise or a threat, treacherous anticipation swirling in your core even as you did not quite understand. Much like you did understand how after what were four mind-blowing peaks on your part and two of his, he was still able to use words like as ‘per’. Damn his lawyer brain.

Your breath caught at the now slick toy circled your clit, Andy's fingers wandering, dipped in your mixed release, lower and lower, until they teased your tightest opening, your frantically beating heart stuttering in your ribcage, hands twitching in the binds.

Your mind swam, trying to scramble for when in the past minutes or perhaps hours you could have said anything about or even requested either – being utterly ruined or utterly ruined – even as a part of you, one you weren't sure you'd ever reveal to Andy for the fear of being judged, shuddered in excitement and both.

His touch disappeared. With half-lidded eyes, ears ringing you watched him reach next to your hip, where another device lied in the covers. With the only source of light being the bedside lamp, you weren't sure what it was at first.

Until your own voice, albeit slightly distrained by a mechanical note of a recording, sounded in the bedroom, Andy's gaze boring into yours with victory.

The words were tied to a hazy memory of a delicious dinner Andy had prepared a few nights ago and aroma of too much wine, of both of you falling asleep on the couch.

“I want to know,” your voice giggled, whispering too loud. “Wanna know how many times I can-- you can make me cum.”

“Yeah? I'd like that, honey... wanna fucking ruin you. Fuck you till you can't think, till you can't take it anymore."

Your past self in the recording breathed too loud, whimpering. “Please. You can ruin me. Want it. Ruin me everywhere... wherever you want.”

In the recorder, your squeal was nearly drowned in the rustle of fabric, but it was there, Andy's voice returning a second later.

“Even here, honey? You'd lemme fuck you there?" The past you hummed in a very clear enthusiastic agreement. "Filthy girl. Say yes.”

“Yes.”

The recording cut off, your skin burning – with indignation, humiliation and entirely unfair arousal because Andy Barber was a wicked, and wickedly clever man.

“I admit the location in the last part might be rather ambiguous, but otherwise... a pretty damning evidence if you ask me. A single word of defence, honey?" he offered all so graciously and you knew exactly what he was asking, briefly considering it in the midst of the mad whirl of your thoughts, emotions and want. Andy's smug grin earned a satisfied edge at your prolonged silence, his fingers all kind of wicked as they danced over your skin, the recorder thrown away and long forgotten. “No? No safeword? Wise decision. So... what's it gonna be? Counting how many or being… really entirely mine?”

You gulped, mind reeling, seeing the last but unspoken question written all over his sinful smile.

Taking a shuddering breath – for if you were to be damned, you might as well perish entirely and with Andy's praise in your ears – you answered yes.

“Both.”

Andy's laugh was rich like dark chocolate and loving all at once, his lips slanting over yours with inexhaustible passion to be unleashed.

“...atta girl.”

Complete masterlist

(Sexy) September Scribbles Masterlist

Ehm. This one was... one of the additions that are most aligned with the original thought of this challenge. Maybe a bit too much 🫠 Halp?