#fallout jericho

Butch:

Butch groaned loudly, his strained voice catching in his throat as you cruelly pulled your hand away from him.

“Ah, fuck. Come on, baby,” He whined, “You can’t just say shit like that!” His hips stuttered and you could see the play of muscle straining beneath his shining skin, as his body convulsed at the abrupt halting of his pleasure. You struggled to hold back a laugh at the pained look etched upon his pretty features.

“Sorry, but it’s true!” You told him, “You should see yourself right now, I know you’d agree with me.” Butch’s eyes rolled open and he threw you a glare, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried to catch his breath.

You didn’t always tease Butch this way, but the look of him when he was this desperate was just intoxicating. That flush of his cheeks, his cool exterior melted away until he’s just a malleable puddle beneath your touch, the way his voice raises an octave, and his well-groomed eyebrows scrunch together over his stormy eyes, just barely shading the details of his irises and his dark, blown-out pupils.

How could you possibly resist?

“Fuck you.” He said through gritted teeth, the strain of his body finally dying down enough for him to sit up and better face you.

“Thought that was your job.” You flashed a grin and a wink, and Butch only huffed at you, refusing to meet your gaze as a pout set upon his lips. For a moment, you were worried you’d taken it too far, that your actions had spoiled the mood, but then his head turned, and you saw the way his eyes looked over your body so hungrily. His intent to continue was pretty damn clear after that.

“So… When you’re good and ready, then?” Your eyes flashed below his waist with a quirked brow as Butch's body spoke for him before his voice could reply.

He released a breath, biting his bottom lip as he regarded you in return.

“Damn it,” Butch gave in, “Come here, then. And we’re gonna finish it this time, ya hear me? None of those tricks of yours, or the next time you need a haircut, you’ll have to ask someone else. I mean it.”

Charon:

The ghoul’s furrowed gaze met yours as his large hands moved to lift you off of him easier than if you were made of straw, his lust-filled state preventing anything but a low growl to escape his throat as he dared to prove you wrong.

You loved when he got like this, your dirty words edging him on, and into a state of vigorous dominance that he usually tended to hold at bay, if only for the sake of your well-being. The truth is though, you lived for his rough, commanding touch. Charon rarely had the opportunity to be the one in control, and when you handed him the torch, so to speak, the fire blazed all the brighter for the lack of oxygen it had before. Before he was yours, and you were his.

You squealed as the ghoul threw you onto the mattress and climbed over top of you, one of his padded knees jamming between your legs almost painfully as his gaze burned into yours. His calloused hands grasped at your wrists, dragging both of them up over your head as he drove his mouth into your own in a claiming kiss that was sure to leave your lips red and swollen, and your lungs aching for breath.

You knew the words you’d uttered were far from the truth, and so did Charon, but that never stopped him from striving to prove you wrong in all the right ways.

Clover:

Clover’s eyebrows rose as the words left your mouth, her own lips quirking up into a mischievous smile.

“Feeling feisty today, sugar?” She spread herself even more widely beneath you, raising her arms above her head, and tilting her chin seductively as her lashes flittered over her dark, wanton eyes. “Why dontcha put your caps where your mouth is at and do something’ about it?”

Your heart beat faster at the seductive look she was giving you, the way she brought her bottom lip between her teeth and grinned, a lively glean shining in her once-dull eyes. One of her legs wrapped around your waist and pulled you onto her, your arms caging her in as she leaned up to kiss you, and you couldn’t help but smile into the contact. So tender, and genuine now, with you. You both knew for Clover, it hadn’t always been that way. With you though, she let you in, she was happy to be with you, and she reminded you of that fact every day that you two spent together.

You were good, and kind. You considered her own wants, preferences and limits; and though your dirty talk could use some work, you had the spirit, that was for sure. It didn’t much matter though, she wanted to be with you, cared for you, and she could be the one in charge of the dirty talk.

“Come on, stud,” She said lowly as she pulled away, leaning forward and pressing her lips to the sensitive shell of your ear, “Come and claim me.”

Cross:

“I– well, no one’s ever told me this. I’m uh, I’m afraid we may have missed that window, Lone.” The Star Paladin’s cheeks darkened, and you could see the sweat littering her forehead, even in her dim quarters at the Citadel.

How was she meant to respond to your comment? Were you serious? Had you thought of that before agreeing to be with her? How could you not have known that she was… Well, she was past that point in her life. She had been for a few years now, if it were even possible before that, what with the injuries she’s sustained, the hardships she’s been through. Was she taking your words too literally? Still though, if this was something important to–

Your lips cut off her thoughts, your grin easily distinguishable in the firmness of your mouth against hers, and she let herself melt into the contact. Her thoughts swirled around her mind, before they were drawn out of her from the feel of you against her.

“You don’t need to take everything so seriously, Paladin.” Your hand felt warm against her cheek as you pulled away from her. “I can see you trying to work it out, but it’s just some talk, that’s all.” Your thumb stoked along her prominent cheekbone, each swipe seemingly wiping away any semblance of strife from her expression as she sighed in relief.

“While I’m relieved that there was little intent behind your words, I must recommend that you don’t repeat them to anyone else.”

“I wouldn’t want to say them to anyone else, love.” You chuckled, and she was lucky enough to feel your lips on hers once more as you gave her a small, reassuring peck.

Never in her life had Cross been accustomed to the tender touches you gave to her so liberally. She wasn’t sure what you saw in her, or why you eventually pursued it, but damn was she glad that you did. Even still, there was always a twinge of guilt in her in regards to your relationship. She promised James that she would look after you, protect you, before the two of you had been sealed away below ground all those years ago, and now, she wasn’t sure how the man would feel about you and her, now that you were reunited after all that time, all those changes in you and her both.

“Good, because if those words got back to your father--” She couldn't help but try and voice her concerns.

“They won’t." You interrupted, "And if they do, I’ll know who it was that told him, won’t I?” You cocked a brow at her good-humoredly, and she flashed you a rare smile. You didn’t seem to harbor the same reservations as she did in terms of your relationship, and for that, Cross was grateful.

“No need to worry, Lone. My lips are sealed.”

Fawkes:

You had to bite your tongue to keep from laughing at your companion’s baffled expression as he processed your words.

“I’ve– Well..." He stumbled out, "I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that expression before. A-are you sure it’s what you meant to say?”

Fawkes was polite in his questioning, but the shock remained prevalent in his widened eyes as he stared back at you through the dingy mirror in front of him.

“Oh, I meant it. You asked me how you looked in your vault suit, and I’m telling you.” His brows furrowed and he just kept staring ahead, into the reflective glass, as if he could look hard enough to see himself through your eyes.

"Yeah, definitely meant it. I mean, just look at it. The way it’s all worn,” You continued, taking slow steps forward as you crept one hand up to lightly graze over his arm. “Practically ripping at the seams…” You let your fingers slide up to where the suit refused to clasp together over his broad chest. “Almost in pieces as it is. You think, if I tug hard enough, it would all just slide right off?” Fawkes swallowed hard, and when you looked closely at his face, you could see the light glisten of sweat beading on his forehead. You tugged teasingly at the zipper of his suit, and his breath caught in his throat, forcing a nervous cough out of him.

“The zipper is rather unstable," He managed, "So, I suppose I wouldn’t be surprised if… well, if it were to malfunction. Shall I change my apparel, then?”

His voice came out an octave above his usual tone, and you could tell he was fighting hard not to stumble over his words.

How many weeks has it been since we started this relationship? And still he gets this nervous when I barely touch him.

You couldn’t help the grin that formed at your lips, still marveling at the way someone like him could be so incredibly sweet.

“If you want…” You said as you circle to stand in front of him, his anticipatory gaze meeting yours as you trailed off teasingly. “Or, we could just start by removing this first, and go from there?” You raised one brow as you fiddled with the zip once more, letting your cool fingertips graze over the warmth of his chest as the expanse of it rose and fell with each shaky breath he took.

“What do you say?”

Fawkes’ tongue remained too tangled to respond verbally, but he swallowed down his nerves once more and gave you a definitive nod as his hands tentatively came up to assist your own.

Gob:

“Oh, um… Well, if you say so…” The ghoul rubbed at the back of his neck at the sound of your heated words, his surprise evident in his widened eyes. Still though, he only settled further onto the bed.

Gob could never deny you, and he would never want to.

Since the day he met you, he’s been trying to understand why someone like you would pay him any mind at all, even when the two of you were just acquaintances, when you were only friends.

When you expressed romantic interest in him though? Gob had half a mind to think it was Nova and Moriarty conspiring with you to play a joke on him. How could someone as flawless and incredible as you, want anything to do with a lowly ghoul like him? What did he have to offer you? He wasn't ambitious, or brave, or outgoing, and the whole wasteland liked to remind him how unattractive he was, but you? He'd like to see anyone try to name even one thing wrong with you, he sure as hell couldn't.

Oh, and the day you told him that you wanted to be physically intimate with him? Gob was even more astonished than he thought possible. He would do anything for you, be whatever you want him to be, go wherever it was you wanted him to. He feels luckier than he’s ever been in his life just to be able to spend time with you, to be able to touch you, and hold you, and kiss you; but to share a bed with you? To see you at your most vulnerable? How did he-- How could he ever deserve such a privilege?

He's absolutely thrilled about it, that's for sure; and he tries to make the most of it. He tries to be worthy of the trust you have in him, the affection you miraculously have for him, the allowance you've given him to be with you in such a way that he never thought he'd get to be with anyone; any ghoul, any smoothskin, and surely anyone as perfect and wonderful as you are. All of it is so foreign to him, but damn, does Gob hope he’s doing it right.

“Where is it you want me, love?” He’d ask with an embarrassed smile that certainly would’ve been accompanied by an intense flush of his cheeks, had he been human.

“Anything you want, just ask it. I'm yours.”

Jericho:

"The fuck did you just call me?" Your eyes lit up with mischief as your lips curled into a smile at the ex-raider's gruffness.

"Nothing." You feigned ignorance with your small voice, shrugging your shoulders as Jericho looked over at you.

"Nuh uh.” He growled, “You're gonna repeat to me what you just said." He rose from his chair and stalked over to where you sat on the bed, leaving the rifle he'd been cleaning behind.

Jericho paused when he reached you, his body almost uncomfortably close to yours as he settled himself with his clothed crotch inches from the tip of your nose. After a few tense moments of invading your space so obscenely, he leaned down and spoke again, his voice low and as dangerous as the dark, piercing gaze that bore into you from beneath his furrowed brows.

"You hear me? Say it again, an' I'll only punish you a little, okay? Now, go on." You blinked and your little grin wilted as you felt Jericho’s hot breath fan over you, all smoke and tobacco as it assaulted your upturned eyes.

“I-I said,” You started, voice nearly faltering as it made its way up your throat, “Well, it was just a joke, but… well, what I meant–”

“Did I fuckin’ ask you what you meant?”

“N-no.”

“No’s right. I didn’t. Now, tell me what you said, an’ then,” He stood up then, one hand going to his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Then... I want you to bend over for me.”

“W-what?”

“You got cram in your fuckin’ ears, sweetheart? You heard me. Don’t go an’ make things worse.”

You relented to him, repeating the words as the flame of his lighter emphasized the sinful spark in his eyes. You bit your lip as you began to follow his gruff orders, crawling up onto the bed completely before turning away from him.

“Now, you know I don’t like doin’ this to ya, angel, but someone’s gotta if you keep forgettin’ your fuckin’ place like that.”

You peeked over your shoulder as you turned your behind to him, noting how the puff of smoke from his cigarette softened his hard features as he rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms to your wanton gaze.

No sixty-year-old had any right to get you hot and bothered the way Jericho did.

You practically drooled as he slowly removed each of the rings on his right hand, almost as though he was putting on a show for you. Each one clattered down on the table beside him, the disrupting noise the loudest thing in the universe, besides the frantic beating of your own heart as you held your breath in anticipation.

He acts so tough and mean, you thought, but he still wouldn’t want to really hurt me. Despite what he wants everyone to think, Jericho’s got a conscience. You wiped the small smile from your face before he could notice, and turned your head away as he settled behind you and pulled the flattened palm of his, now de-ringed, hand all the way back.

“Eh, who am I kiddin’?” His cigarette bounced between his lips as he spoke, “I live for this shit. Now, don’t hold back your sounds, sweetheart. An’ don’t forget to count, or I’m startin’ over, an’ you wouldn’t want that, would ya?”

Butch:

His face goes pale as he reads over the note. He shakes his head and looks up at her teary eyes, "Look girl, whatever you wanna do I'll support. If you don't want it, that's fine, and if you wanna use this as our excuse to finally settle down, that's fine too." He finds himself pulling her in by the waist and resting his head against the barely noticeable bump. Despite only being friends, he yearns for being her lover and settling down together.

Charon:

He looks down at her glossy eyes with an unreadable expression. "Say something!" She almost croaks out at his unbearable silence. "I just didn't think it was possible." He says barely above a whisper. Truthfully he wants to be involved as much as he can, but he relies heavily on her to teach him how to do so.

Gob:

"Really?" A smile immediately covers his face, "I didn't think I could— I mean, i-if you don't want it, you know it's up to you. I just- I can't believe that I was able to do that." The thought of becoming a father had never occurred to him, but once he received the news, it was all he could ever think about day in and day out until the little one arrived.

Sarah Lyons:

She's pale in the face as she hands Lone the note. On one hand, this would continue her family's legacy. On the other, she couldn't imagine returning to the Citadel without him while carrying his child. "If you want to be involved, can I suggest that we get married?" She avoids his eyes as she puts this out there, disappointed with herself for letting it come to this, whether or not she wanted a relationship with him to begin with.

Clover:

She huffs as he remains silent, crossing her arms over her chest. “Look, I didn’t plan on settling down either, but you’re out of your mind if you think I’m raising this thing on my own.” She can’t bring herself to get rid of it, seeing the other alternative being the two of them become loving parents together.

Jericho:

Grooming with Jericho x g/n! Lone

Man, oh man... something possessed me when I was writing this 😅 What can I say? Jericho is my guilty pleasure 😈

I hope you all like it! 😁

Here is the link to my Kinktober 2022 Event list so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Grooming, praise kink, light corruption kink, dom/sub dynamics, blow jobs, face-fucking, come swallowing, gagging, breathplay (sorta), unhealthy relationships, toxicity, pet names, aftercare (but only a tiny bit).

2.8k words.

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“No, no, kid. You’re doin’ it all wrong.” Jericho grasped at your hair firmly, pulling you back and roughly away from his half-hard cock. “What did I fuckin’ say about you using those little hands o’ yours, huh?” 

You bit your lip, eyes downcast and brows flinching from the sting in his voice. 

“You fuckin’ deaf?” 

You shook your head, moving your hands away from him and to the floor, where you slid them firmly underneath your shins, pinning them to the ground. 

“Good.” He gave you a single nod, his free hand reuniting the end of his cigarette with his lips. “Now, start again.” 

The fingers in your hair loosened, remaining against your head for guidance alone as you set your sights back between Jericho’s legs. 

“There it is.” He murmured as you skipped over your usual kitten licks, which only ever seemed to illicit a glare in the ex-raider, and straightaway wrapped your plush lips around his sensitive tip, hollowing your cheeks and sucking until you felt him begin to grow steadily against your tongue. 

You were rewarded with the sweet sound of Jericho’s throaty groan as you delved deeper, taking his mostly-hard cock to the back of your throat and only stopping when you felt you were about to gag. His eyes locked to yours, his dark, blown pupils meeting your teary, earnest gaze as your expression begged for his praise. 

It thrilled you like nothing else. Even his mouth on yours, his rough hands stroking over your sex, the filthy words he whispers against your ears, nothing riles you like the sound of his approval. It was so rare, you felt as though each word he said in favor of you would be his very last, but he relented just enough that deep inside, you knew that wasn’t the case. It stuck with you. When he was proud of you, when you did a good job, when you took him well, when you listened to him and followed his instructions, just the chance of hearing any of those simple words, and you were prepared to do anything. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, “I love that sound. When you choke on me.” 

He took a thoughtful puff of his cigarette and closed his eyes. 

“Do it again for me, sweetheart.” 

Your body shuddered at the way his words made your mind melt. You couldn’t deny him. Not anything. 

You pressed forward eagerly, even knowing the discomfort that was coming, you took him into your throat with enthusiasm, choking the instant the hot head of his cock grazed the back of your throat. A dry retching sound filled the room, followed by desperate slurping as you tried to control the flow of drool streaming to your chin messily, and Jericho sighed. 

“Just like that.” 

You smiled, even with his cock filling your mouth and throat lewdly, spittle spilling out the side of your lips, you smiled at his beaming words. You pulled back to breathe, sucking hard at the head of his cock and dragging your tongue over the tip, stimulating him as you found a moment of respite from the prodding, painful thrusts he asked you to perform.

“Still need some work though.” 

Your eyes widened as his hand gripped your hair tightly, shoving your face forward until he couldn’t shove anymore. You choked, stomach heaving as another pained noise left your throat around the crude appendage filling it so fully. Jericho didn’t relent this time, didn’t allow for your foolish respite. You could hear him now, without having to open his mouth, his message was clear. 

Your discomfort is what?

N-nothing. Sir. 

You heard the conversation in your head. As you always seemed to when put into these situations. It’d been early on in your arrangement. You wanted to learn, and damn, did he want to teach. Teach you how to be good. Good for him. You didn’t know quite why. Maybe he was persuasive, maybe he was intimidating, or maybe it was the thrill. The way his dominance made you feel safe, cared for, even in a brutal and controlling way. It felt good to let go. 

Nothing…? You heard him trail off expectantly in your mind.

Nothing compared to your pleasure. Sir. 

That’s it. Good boy/girl. 

You shuddered, as you always did, at the memory of it. It didn't matter if it was true or not anymore. Whether you suffered or not, as long as Jericho was happy, was pleased, so were you. It was even better than your own pleasure. 

His hand pulled back only an inch or so, pushing forward again with force behind it, the jab to the back of your throat causing tears to spring from your eyes and flow down your cheeks. He continued a few more moments, a few more thrusts, each gagging you and making your stomach muscles clench just as hard as the last. You could feel your own arousal burning in your core. 

On the next push into your throat, you choked, and he stayed there, his hand holding firmly to the back of your head as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and tapped it at the ashtray on the table beside him. 

“Look at me, kid.” You opened your streaming eyes, oblivious to the fact you’d even closed them. 

This is why you need him. A voice echoed off the walls of your mind. 

He looks out for you. He rights your wrongs. He makes you better. The best version of yourself you can be. 

You nodded subconsciously, the motion pressing the head of his dick further into your throat than you ever thought he could go, and he held you there. 

“Now, swallow.” 

Your eyes widened as panic rose in your chest. 

H-how? 

Your eyes seemed to plead with him for the answer, and Jericho only tutted his tongue, placing his cigarette back between his lips. 

“You can swallow around my dick, sweetheart. You think I’d ask you to do it if it were impossible? Just gotta try it.” 

Determination swirled in your belly at his words. 

He’s right. He’d never ask me to do something impossible. Depraved, maybe. Painful. But not impossible. He wants to make me better. 

I can trust him.

Your eyebrows drew together, and your throat flexed, but all you managed was another gag. Another pained sound left you as you tried again, as you tried and failed to swallow around the thick girth inside you. 

Is he sure it’s possible?

You doubted briefly, fresh tears flowing down your cheeks at another failed attempt. 

Jericho groaned at the pressure around him, each painful gag stimulating his cock deliciously and pulling those lovely sounds from you, pulling more drool and tears to muss your face and make you look as depraved as he aimed to make you. 

“Better figure it out quick, sweetie. ‘M not lettin’ you up to breathe ‘til you do it.” 

Your heart pounded in your chest, lungs beginning to burn as panic rose within you. Another try, another failure, another gag. Your body heaved, starved lungs trying to pull breath through your nose, but he was too far down your throat for that to be an option. You tried again, sputtering, mind going fuzzy with the lack of oxygen to your brain, and you became desperate. You choked on your own drool as you tried to breathe around the blockage in your mouth and throat, your vision blurring slowly to black as your chest heaved for air. 

“C’mon. Told you you could do it.” Jericho’s voice sounded through the darkness clouding your vision. 

“You wouldn’t want to disappoint me, would you, angel?”

One more renewed charge of electricity drove through your bones, your muscles, and cleared your vision, gave you strength enough for one last attempt, and you were successful. Jericho grunted as your throat constricted around his length, the rough walls of your esophagus massaging the tight skin of his cock without that telltale jerk of your gag reflex. His hand loosened, and your head shot backwards, stimulating his length still as he was dragged out of your throat and mouth, until only the tip of his glistening cock remained on your lips. 

His dick twitched at the feel of your hot, stuttering breaths over him, lungs gulping cold air painfully through your ravaged throat. 

Your eyes were still on his, tears streaking down your reddened face and spittle still connecting your mouth to his cock where he pulled his hips and it settled in front of you. Jericho’s lips spread to a half-smile, his hand stroking gently over your hair as he looked down at you in approval, his bobbing cock twitching with the same such praise his eyes were delivering. 

He said nothing, but reached for the cigarette in his mouth, putting it out in the ashtray as he relaxed further into his chair. His dark eyes looked at you pointedly, and just as your breaths began to even out, you felt his hand pressure the back of your head again. 

You nodded once, a small smile at your glistening lips, and took him into your mouth again. His cock was shockingly cold against your tongue, the cool air clinging to the wetness before it delved back into your hot mouth. You worked him as you did before, sucking harshly and hollowing your cheeks, before taking him to the back of your throat. Dragging your tongue at the underside of his shaft distractingly, you mentally prepared to dutifully swallow over him again, remembering the look of satisfaction on his face as your vision vignetted and you finally were able to do as he pleased. 

You wanted that again. 

You needed it. 

Even if it meant you choking a dozen times, suffocating yourself to the point of losing consciousness, you needed it again. 

It was dangerous to crave someone's approval so much, you knew, but even that knowledge didn’t make that utter need for it stop. It was like a drug. No, it was stronger. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you pushed forward, taking him all the way into your throat, and swallowed. Or… tried to. You gagged again, and heard Jericho release a dry chuckle above you. 

Determined, brows furrowed, you pressed even further, until your nose was flush to the bed of curls on his pubic bone, and constricted your throat around him again. 

“Fuck!” Jericho exclaimed, hand tightening– unwittingly this time– in your hair, as his hips bucked up at the feel of your throat clenching around him like a vice. You still coughed at the end, some spittle and Jericho’s salty pre-cum dripping down your throat, but you’d done it. The man above you sighed, pulling your head back and relieving the pressure, and you felt your stomach clench in pleasure at the sound of his contentment. 

Spurred on by your success, you pulled back only long enough to draw in another breath, before plunging down onto him, taking him deep and pressing your nose to his skin once more. You watched as Jericho’s head fell back in bliss, his foul mouth quieted not by a cigarette, but by the sheer pleasure your mouth was bringing him with each harsh suck, each tender lick and forced swallow around his imposing shaft, and you smiled around your mouthful at the sight. His hand was nothing more than a bit of support now, your head and neck moving freely to take him the way you knew he pleased, to show him that you were capable, that you listened, that you were good. Good for him. Would always be good for him. 

No one could bring him pleasure like you could, no one could care that much, could make him the center of their world like you could– like you did. You had to make sure Jericho would never forget that. Just as you needed him, you’d make it so it was always the other way around too. 

Jericho was getting close to his end. He was giving off the signs that you’ve come to be so familiar with. His cock pulsed heavily on your tongue, the noises spilling from his throat were gruff and guttural, his free hand reached down to join the other on the back of your head, his contact there becoming firmer, more commanding, as his hips started to buck his cock more forcefully into your throat. You whined around him, the sound sending vibrations through to where your lips squeezed at the base of Jericho’s pulsing member, and you felt your tongue begin to tingle with anticipation. 

You knew not to beg, not unless Jericho asked you to, but it was becoming more and more difficult not to make your desires transparently plain. Your hips wriggled beneath you restlessly as you felt your own arousal building in your gut, your desperation palpable with each whine, each caress of your tongue against the slit of his cock, beckoning for his release to spill into your mouth. To finally taste the delectable liquid praise of your efforts. Your body was crying out for him, as it did damn near every day, aching for his approval with each harsh thrust that had your nose squishing at the pressure against his pelvic bone, that had his balls slapping against your drool-soaked chin, that had your eyes watering and your throat clenching around him. 

He was bucking his hips wildly now, grinding the head of his cock into your throat with no time for you to swallow, or even gag around him, and all you could do was sit and wait patiently for him to find his pleasure in the warm confines of your mouth. He used you like some toy, both hands clasping at the back of your head, dragging you into him as his hips thrust up and out of his chair, moving faster and firmer with each passing moment, until he finally ceased his movement, pushing as far down your throat as he could. He held you there as you felt his cock pulse, shooting warm strings of viscous release straight down your throat. 

Jericho let out a guttural groan from above you, and you closed your eyes in bliss, reveling in the feeling of his seed filling you, the sound of his pleasure, the feel of his balls tightening against your chin with each spurt into your mouth. 

His groan dissolved to a sigh as Jericho’s hands loosened their grip on you, allowing you to pull far enough back for him to spill onto your tongue, for you to taste him as he pulsed out the last of his spend. You savored your reward, a hazy grin spreading across your face as he pulled back far enough for his cock to pop out of your mouth. 

Your jaw ached, your throat was sore and raw, eyes red, chin covered in snot and drool and cum, but you found yourself smiling happily at your success. He’d asked you to perform a task, to do it the way he liked, and you’d passed with flying colors. 

Jericho sat back in his chair, hands releasing your hair fully as he reached for his pack of cigarettes and his lighter on the table, but his eyes stayed on you. You swallowed down the last bit of the seed he’d left on your tongue, making a show of doing so dramatically, so that he knew, and he smiled at you. 

Chills ran up your spine at the sight.  

As he lit his cigarette and threw the lighter back on the coffee table, you scooted forward on your knees, pulling your hands free and placing them on his thighs before using one to guide his softening cock towards your mouth. 

He didn’t need to ask, it was one of the first lessons he taught you. 

You always clean my cock when we’re done. I don’t care where it’s been or what it’s done to ya. If you leave me messy, you’re gettin’ punished. You understand? 

You’d blushed back then, your whole face heating with the embarrassment, the crassness of his words and the thought of your actions that might take place in the future.

You’ve come a long way. 

You licked every inch of him clean as he looked down at you, taking lazy puffs of his cigarette as his dark eyes fixed with a distinct sort of fondness that only Jericho had ever given you. It was possessive, it was controlling, maybe it was toxic, but it was powerful, impassioned, relentless in the same such way your love for him was. You never would have guessed this is where the two of you would’ve ended up, but as you rose from your knees and held Jericho’s hand, as he led you to your bedroom, as he helped you wipe your face, and settled down beside you, as you curled into him, sore and ravaged, and satisfied, you couldn't imagine anything different. 

“You did well tonight, baby. Get some rest, and maybe I’ll fuck you good in the morning.”