#horace

You took a deep breath, your ears ringing from the noise of the city. Mikaela let you in through the back entry, trying to make chit-chat along the way, but she quickly scurried off to tend to the bar, leaving you alone with him. Horace. 

You liked Horace, not only because he was easy on the eyes. Charming and determined, with his blue eyes and nice hair, he was older than you, but you still felt butterflies in your stomach every time you met. Butterflies that you always had to suffocate to fight the flush creeping up your neck. This time was no different.

“Got something for me, darling?” Horace smiled, his hair ruffled. The backroom was always full of random crates, containers, and tech, music creeping in from the club. You had to admit, it was a really good hiding place for their little rebel alliance, people constantly coming and going, high on spice. 

You put a small container on the table, Horace immediately reaching for it, his fingers brushing against yours. He smiled again, but you looked away, feeling the heat in your cheeks. 

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, and you heard whirring and clicking, but still avoided looking in his direction.

“No,” you answered a little more quickly than intended. “I don’t want to know. It’s better I don’t know,” you whispered.

You had a point, and Horace knew it. The fewer people who knew about their plans, the more chances they had of success. You figured pretty early on what he was planning on doing, but the payment was too good, and when the smuggling became too dangerous, you still kept on. For the spice, you told yourself initially, for those sweet, free hits Horace always gave you.

Righteous, but not pure, is what he’s always said, what he initially said to sway you into picking up spice again. 

“I would never put you in danger,” his voice was coming directly from behind you now, and you trembled at how close he was to you. It felt like your whole body was burning; you wanted to take half a step backwards, just half a step, and press yourself against his body, but you knew Horace wasn’t really into you. He talked a good game, and sometimes you would catch him looking at you for a moment too long, but that was your Horace, flirty and persuasive.

“Come on,” he finally said after you didn’t respond. “You need to relax a little, have fun.” You followed him into the club, to one of the tables, and accepted the spice pump he gave you. The first hit felt nice, making you feel like you were floating. Horace’s arm was extended on the backrest behind you, and you wished so badly it was instead draped over your shoulders, drawing you closer.  

He smelled so fucking good, looking at you with those big blues, his eyes half-lidded as he took another hit. It almost felt like he did scoot closer. Your ears started ringing again, music and voices becoming louder, and your whole body started to shiver. You pressed your thighs together, heat pooling between them, as you embarrassingly glanced at him, your face burning. You needed to put a stop to this, right this instant, get up and walk away, and possibly never look back. 

Just as you finally gathered enough courage to stand up, one of Horace’s long fingers brushed your shoulder, once, twice, and then one more time before you realised he was drawing lazy circles on it, finally resting his whole hand between your shoulder and your neck, his thumb now reaching your exposed skin at the nape, sending shivers down your spine. 

You took another hit, and your vision went all blurry, aided by the smoke and dim lights around you.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” Horace whispered in your ear, sending another wave of heat and need through you, his nose tracing your cheek. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he continued, and you swore you never wanted to be fucked this badly in your life.

His other hand found a way under your skirt, soothing your burning thigh with his touch, as he worked his way higher. No one was paying attention to you two, but there were still people around who could notice. Still, you allowed him to brush his fingers against your wet panties, although he had to work for it a little, as you were reflexively pressing your thighs together. 

“You want to be mine that badly?” he whispered, his eyes focused on your parted lips. 

“Yeah,” you finally moaned, your breath mixing with his. “Yeah, I do,” you leaned in, but instead of kissing you, Horace pushed one of his long fingers into your achy pussy, drawing a startled gasp out of you.

He took you to his apartment, a tiny hole really, and kept apologising for the state of it, but you were just happy to be somewhere private and quiet. The spice was still coursing through your body, making you so much more responsive to his touch. He pressed himself against your back, pulling you into himself, his huge hands engulfing yours, pressing gentle kisses to your neck; you could feel how hard he was against your ass.

“Horace, please,” you moaned, and he immediately turned you, walking you backwards until he could corner you against a table.

“Please, what?” he teased, but leaned in close, taking your scent in, playing with your hair a little. You didn’t really pay attention; your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, pressing yourself against him even more. His hands were now grabbing at your waist, then at your hips, before finally settling on your ass. “You are so pretty when you beg,” Horace whispered against your lips, before finally succumbing. The kiss was rough and needy, and quite sloppy, which you attributed to the influence of spice. 

You desperately ground against him, looking for a little tension and relief, before palming his cock through his trousers, drawing a long moan out of him.

“Who’s begging now?” you tease, pulling him back in.

With ease, Horace picked you up and plopped you on the table before you even had a chance to wrap your legs around him. He undressed you quickly, tugging and pulling, and soon you were sitting in front of him in nothing but a bra and really wet panties.

Horace took no time sinking his teeth into the crook of your neck, leaving tiny bruises sucking all over. You both moaned loudly, he at one point more than you; he pushed his hand inside your panties, dragging his fingers through your slick.

“All this for me?” he asked, teasing your nipple with his tongue. He didn’t wait for your answer, however, and pushed his finger back in, his thumb lightly circling your clit, drawing more needy moans out of you.

“Horace,” you moaned out, the knot in your stomach getting tighter. He worked another finger in, a burning stretch at first; you can’t stop moaning and panting, and Horace takes it all in, pushing his tongue into your mouth, his other hand pushing your hips into the table, grounding you. He looked down to where his fingers were pumping in and out of you, his hand almost completely covered by your slick, and he could feel his cock twitch in excitement. 

“Are you close?” Horace could feel your walls starting to flutter and tighten around his fingers. “Are you going to come for me, darling?”

Your head fell back as the pleasure washed over you, your arms still hopelessly clinging around Horace’s neck.

“Good girl,” he whispered in your ear, already sending a new wave of heat through you before you even came down from your high. He gave you another sloppy kiss before his grip on you tightened. “Are you going to continue to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, Horace,” you breathed out, your hands fumbling with his zipper so hard he had to help you get him naked. Then, he lifted you up, chasing your mouth again.

His bed was old and not that comfortable, but you couldn’t care one bit. Horace rested his thick cock between your folds, his mouth licking and sucking on your exposed tits, his broad shoulders engulfing you, caging you under him. You finally wrapped your legs around him, and Horace grunted, lining up his already leaking tip with your entrance after literally ripping your undies off, before slowly pushing in. The stretch was initially not only painful but also not pleasant at all, and you could feel your brows furrowing in response.

“You’re doing so well,” Horace grunted in response, aware of the issue at hand, but too lost between your walls to actually properly slow down. “You’re taking me so well, sweetheart,” he mumbles again, still keeping at shallow thrusts.

You were so overwhelmed by the sensation that it took you a little while to get used to the stretch, but it was slowly turning into undeniable pleasure. Horace’s hands and mouth were everywhere: your mouth, your neck, your tits, your waist, and of course, your cunt. He sped up, the obscene sound of his cock fucking into you filling the room, pulling almost completely out before burying himself to the hilt over and over again, both of you moaning loudly. 

When it all became too much for you, you dug your nails into his shoulders, your body shivering in pleasure from Horace’s cock rhythmically hitting that one spot, bringing you closer to the edge again. You looked down at where he was splitting you open, where his fat cock was mercilessly pushing in and out of you, realising he was so big he couldn’t even fit all the way. You felt so full of him, and yet you couldn’t believe that you couldn’t fully take it.

Horace’s face was buried in the crook of your neck, his weight completely on one of his arms, the other holding you up by your hips, so he could fuck even deeper into you. He couldn’t stop moaning, his breath hot on your skin, praising you constantly. 

“You feel so good, darling,” he breathes out, feeling that familiar feeling of you coming soon. “Come on my cock. Be a good girl.”

His words are enough to unravel you, and you come again, harder, so hard in fact that you start whimpering senselessly, the fluttering of your cunt enough to tip Horace over as well, and he came with a long grunt, spilling deep inside you.

If you like my writing, all interactions are greatly appreciated-`♡´-

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