----

3AM.

Who knocks on your door at 3AM? Not that you were asleep, you were laid awake thinking about the argument you had with Ashton the day before.  But anything after 10PM should be considered rude.  You were about to give the person on the other side of the door a piece of your mind, until you opened the door and saw Ashton standing there, blood dripping down his cheek.

“Ash - what the fuck happened?” You breathed, ushering him inside your apartment and shutting the door.

“May have gotten jumped on my walk home from Cal’s house,” He said sheepishly, reaching up to touch his cheek to see the blood.

“What were you doing walking home from Cal’s house, why didn’t you drive? You absolute walnut,” You sighed, taking his hand and dragging it towards the bathroom where you kept your first aid kit.

He was silent for a time, sitting on the toilet as he thought about whether or not he should answer your question, “I just needed time to think.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion, “You use this big noggin of yours to actually think? Never would have known,” You snorted, pressing the hydrogen peroxide to his cheek to clean the wound, making him flinch.  “But really though, what did you need to think about that you couldn’t have done on a drive home?”

Ashton paused again, swallowing thickly before letting out a soft, “You.”

His words made you pause with your hand on his cheek, “What about me?”

He sighed, looking up at you, “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?”

Reaching his hand up, Ashton placed his hand on your wrist, holding your hand to his face longer, “You drive me absolutely crazy sometimes.  And granted I’m sure I can drive you crazy sometimes, but I should never be too proud to admit when I’m wrong, and I was.  You said I was jealous, and you know what? I am.  I’m jealous that you went on a date with someone that wasn’t me, and I’m angry with myself that it took me so long to figure out why I was jealous.”

You were breathless at this point, but Ashton standing to his full height, face less than an inch away from yours didn’t help.  “Why were you jealous?”

Ashton sighed again, rolling his eyes with a fond smile on his face, “You’re gonna make me come out and just say it aren’t you? Context clues weren’t enough?”

You couldn’t help but smile back at him, “You came to my apartment at 3AM to make me figure it out?”

“Fine.  I’m in love with you, okay? I always have been, I’m sure, it’s just taken me far too long to figure it out,” Ashton looked into your eyes then, searching for any sort of regret or indication you were going to pull away.

“I love you too, but you’re not allowed to kiss me until we get this lip cleaned up, yeah? Also we’re gonna have to go over what they took from you.”

     After a year together you knew what made each other tick. You shared the same fantasies and carried these out often. This time, Ashton decided to use this knowledge to his advantage. He started walking around in nothing but his (and your) favorite pair of lounging shorts. He made a show of adjusting himself to let you know he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Then, in his practice sessions, he invited you to watch, knowing how much you loved to watch him make perfect rhythms from his head. He waited until you were up and focused on other things to go for his daily canyon jog. He made a show of stretching (his “warm ups”) in that tank top--the white one that he knew drove you mad--until you were practically drooling at the sight of his muscles flexing under the fabric. 

     One particular day, closer to when the tension was so thick you almost thought you could give in, he caught you ogling at the combination he’d chosen for his workout: the dreaded white tank and the tightest pair of black athletic shorts he owned, a combination that was sure to send warmth between your thighs. 

     “Like what you see, love?” he smirked, choosing his playlist for the workout. 

     “I always do, but don’t think you’re gonna win this one this time, baby,” you retort, trying not to stare as he made his way over to stand next to you while he prepared his water bottle. He chuckles softly, screwing the lid onto the container and flexing at the same time. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you trying to get me to cave. My willpower has always been stronger than yours, you know this.”

     “I know,” he breathes, coming to stand behind your chair at the kitchen island where you were enjoying your morning coffee. “But never underestimate a man’s desire to have his girlfriend writhing under him in complete and total ecstasy,” he places kisses up and down your neck in the process--just barely staying within the guidelines of the dare. “I can’t wait to have you screaming for my cock...begging me to fuck you raw because you were just too fucking greedy to win at your own game and you’re mad that I haven’t let you cum all night.” He leans up, walking towards the door and grabbing his belongings. You frustratedly sigh at his absence, the filthy words that came from his mouth only seconds before making you want just that--right then and there. 

     That’s how you ended up trying to read the latest novel on your list to distract yourself from the growing need you felt deep in the pits of your stomach. The further your eyes scanned the pages, the more the words ran together, eventually forming pages and pages of black lines. Between those lines was Ashton, his cock hitting in those just-right places, coaxing you to your fifth orgasm. Eventually you blink yourself out of this fantasy. 

     You were the one who suggested this little game, you weren’t about to lose at your own game. That was until you found your hand traveling farther and farther down your body, until it disappeared under the waistband of your panties, finding your clit with ease. As you slowly started to rub yourself, you’re drawn out of your own fantasies by the sound of Ashton’s keys jingling in the lock. You quickly compose yourself, and before he has the door open you’re waltzing into the kitchen to place your mug in the sink. You give him a coy smile, “hi, darling. Looks like your workout went well.”

     “It was very nice, thanks for asking. I kind of bit myself in the ass, though, from my stunt this morning. I couldn’t stop thinking about licking your pussy until you’re cumming all over my mouth.”

     You look up at him with wide eyes before a smirk forms on your lips. “Ashton Irwin, are you admitting defeat?” 

     His shoulders hang in mock surrender. “Only if it means that part of your punishment for losing the bet is that I get to taste that sweet pussy of yours.”

     You slowly approach him, giving him the same lust-filled eyes he’s giving you. “Think about how good I taste while you’re showering. Then I’ll think about letting you eat my pussy.” He hums with lust thick in his throat as he heads toward the shower. You smile to yourself, knowing you’re not going to give up so quickly.

     You’re nowhere to be found when he’s showered from his late-morning jog. You’re out grabbing the groceries he forgot to pick up, he thinks. He also wonders if he’ll have time to hide the evidence if he spurts his own load all over his clean shirt, his shorts, and the sheets. Just as you had been so rudely interrupted earlier, he, too, found himself scrambling to act casual as he heard the sliding door to the garden snap shut. He smiles at you as you make your way back into the shared bedroom. “I wasn’t admitting defeat, you know. Just letting you know what I’m going to do to you once I win our bet.” 

     You give him a curt smile. “Fine, let’s add three more days onto this bet.”

______

     The week passes with relatively little tension. Sure, it’s always there, but the two of you were too stubborn to admit defeat and give into your own desires that the bet was still on and going strong. That is, until you hear Ashton’s weak groans as he’s in the shower. You immediately know that he’s launching weak spurts of his cum onto the shower wall. He’s caved. You knew he always would. You pity him, really. 

     You were getting close to inserting your own two fingers into your warm and aching pussy at this thought when you decided to make his punishment an anti-punishment--reward him for holding off for a whole week with the promise of your sweet, sweet pussy on his tongue at the end of it. 

     As always, he’s only wearing a towel when he emerges from the steamy room. “Enjoy your shower this morning, baby?” You know the answer to this question, but he still stops dead in his tracks. “I at least hope you rinsed your cum off of the wall. That shit’s a bitch to clean once it’s dry.” 

     He turns slowly on one heel. “Do you think this is fun? Is this your sadistic way to prove to me that you’re the dominant one in this relationship? Daddy gets to touch himself any fucking time he wants to.” The switch had flipped. He tried to be submissive to the woman who makes his heart soar--to make her happy, to fulfill all of her desires--but he needed her too badly. He had to have his way, that’s just how it’s been the entirety of your sexual relationship. 

     You gulp, unsure of what to respond. You notice he’s begun to grow hard again, and finally admit that he’s too sure of himself to let you win this game. You both want it now, you’re both going to get it now. He turns to dig through his drawers, searching for an outfit for the day. “Let me help you, baby,” you speak, but it’s barely audible over his rummaging. You come off of the bed and pad closer to him until you’re standing behind him, kissing his back. “Come to the bed, please, baby.” He turns and looks at you, lust and exhaustion clouding his eyes. He bounds over to the mattress, deciding to stand instead of sit. “I know you're tired of my game. Truce?” 

     He nods quietly, and the silence is deafening. He’s not going to give you the satisfaction of winning, but he’ll take the loser's prize. Never breaking eye contact, you sink lower until you’re eye-level with his now fully hard cock. He watches in silent awe as you salivate when you finally drop the towel he’d loosely tied around his hips. His cock springs free, the tip red and needy despite his quick jerk in the shower only minutes before. You take it in your hand, its weight fits nicely in your hand, your favorite feeling. You look at him watching you as you lick a thick stripe up the underside of his cock, making it twitch on your tongue. You hum as you take him fully into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you take every inch of him. 

     He’s amazed. He loves that pretty mouth of yours, and fuck, does he love having his cock put in it. He gathers your hair into a loose ponytail, just enough for him to see the tears develop in the corners of your eyes. Your free hand fondles his balls, just the way he likes, causing his hips to snap, pushing his cock deeper into your throat. You pull off of it with a breath, a string of spit connecting your chin and his tip. With doe eyes you rasp, “fuck my face, you earned it.” He groans in delight, his cock twitching in your hand for the umpteenth time. He tightens his grip in your hair, causing your scalp to sting. 

     He puts the feelings of the past week into every thrust into your throat. He watches the tears fall from your cheeks, but the hum in the bottom of your throat tells him you’re enjoying this, too. His thrusts become sloppy, his moans growing louder. You feel his cock jerk on your tongue in the same instant that he’s pushing your head still on his cock. His load comes hot, thick, and with loud moans of praises and thanks. You stand, humming with pleasure as you wipe the last bit of his cum from your chin. He’s breathless, but the look on his face tells you he’s far from spent. 

     “Lay down. Strip. Spread,” he gruffs out. This is a new reaction that sends sparks through your body. You quickly oblige, excited for his repayment. As soon as he catches a glimpse of your glistening pussy, he’s holding down your hips in preparation for his assault. “So wet for me, baby. You haven’t touched yourself, not even once, this whole week? What a shame, such a pretty pussy,” he tuts, running a finger through your slick folds and taking your nipple between his teeth, sucking harshly. He lets go with a loud pop, but follows it with firm slaps to each sensitive breast, earning a whimper from your lips. “I bet you thought about this every day...having my cock so deep in you you can feel me in your stomach...crying out, begging me to let you sit on my face. Fuck me, baby, you’re gorgeous. So wet, so needy for me. Where’s that dominant spirit that was here last week? She saw Daddy’s hard cock and got greedy. Needed me to touch her and wouldn’t tell me. Pitiful.” You can only respond to his words with whimpers, a stark contrast from the filth that you spewed to get him riled up. 

     “Ash...please...I need it...need your tongue, your cock...please.” You’re writhing under him, just as he imagined. He only gives a smile before diving in between your thighs. He hums when your fingers pull immediately at his scalp as he begins to suck harshly on your clit. He alternates between this movement and licking wide strips up the length of your pussy. You’ve begun to squirm more than he likes, so he wraps both arms over your thighs to hold them in place. He darts his tongue into your hole before deciding quickly to assault your clit and leave the rest up to his expert fingers. He knows you always beg for more when he begins with one finger, so he thrusts three fingers into you from the get, curling them up to hit your g-spot with each thrust. He moves his fingers and tongue faster when he hears your whimpers of praise fall from your lips. He knows you’re close, you’re clenching on his fingers so hard that he can hardly move them. Fuck, he wishes that was his cock. He feels it tremble again, a painful reminder that his needs were far from met. Your quiet moans turn into screams as his quiet hums turn into vibrating groans against your throbbing clit.

      “Good girl...cum on my fingers for me...jus’ like that,” he coos as he feels your fingers dig into his scalp. He resumes his onslaught just in time for your first orgasm to hit. He licks your pussy clean, and by the time the stars have faded and the sounds of the room have floated back into your ears, he’s grabbing his long-forgotten towel to quickly wipe anything that his tongue couldn’t clean. 

     Without warning, his elbows are next to your ears as he pushes your thighs apart to settle between them. You can feel his needy cock brushing against your stomach. He swipes the head between your folds only once before bottoming out. You whine at the new sensation just as he lifts your leg over his shoulder, groaning at this new angle. 

     “Fuck, Ash...so fucking big...I’m so full,” is all you can repeat as his thrusts become heavier and longer. He pulls out almost completely just to slam himself back in several times, causing your head to spin. 

     “God, darlin’, you’re takin’ my cock so fucking well. Never gonna go without your pussy ever again. Never.” The fire returns in your belly as his thrusts are more sporadic and followed with loud groans and countless affirmations of praise. 

     “Ash, Ash...I’m close,” you breathily moan.

     “Me, too, baby. Want you cumming on my cock...so tight...made just for me.”

His words are what finally send you over the edge. The stars shine brighter this time, the ringing in your ears the loudest bell ever made. He follows not far behind, his cock releasing thick ropes of cum deep inside of you. As you both fall from your highs, he leaves soft kisses along your neck and collarbone, staying buried inside you for as long as he can stand it.

      You’re rubbing his scalp calmingly, breathing in his scent, a mix of citrus, musk, and Ashton. You break the comfortable silence with a chuckle and, “I don’t think I’ll be denying you anything for a very long time, Ashton.”

     He laughs at that, agreeing. “Same here. I love you too much to go without showing you my love. But if we decide to play this game again, let’s make the reward more clear, yeah? We both got our way this time, I don't think that’s how this was supposed to work.” He laughs quietly and rolls to your side, pulling you to him in an almost fluid motion. “That was fucking worth the wait, though.” He kisses your forehead before giving you a soft peck on the cheek. He lets out an “I love you,” thick with sleep. You hum in response. 

Finally, you focused your gaze on him, one eye swollen and bruised as he smiled at you. 

“Ash,” you breathed, your voice raspy. “Who hurt you?” 

Your husband chuckled, pulling his chair right against the edge of your bed as he took your hand and kissed it. “Don’t worry about that, baby,” he said, his eyes dragging down your body that was lifeless 12 hours ago. 

A doctor came in, a small smile on his lips as he slowly entered the room. 

“Look who’s awake,” he said kindly, eyes trained on the machines around you as he wrote something down. “How are you feeling, Miss?”

You slowly turned your head towards the doctor, your voice still mostly missing when you spoke again. “Okay,” you mumbled, flinching at the pain in your throat before a warm wave of painkiller washed over you. “What happened to me?”

The doctor gave you another kind smile as he knelt down by your head, hand on your shoulder as he gently squeezed. “You were in an accident, but you’re okay,” he nodded, his voice so soothing you really couldn’t argue. He looked at Ashton now. “We’re going to have to run some tests, if you wouldn’t mind-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he snapped, hand around yours tightening. The doctor seemed to accept this, moving towards the door and gesturing for a team of nurses to come in, all of them filtering in with big smiles on their faces as they saw you awake. 

For the next few months, your life was turbulent, to say the least. 

You had broken more bones than ever before, your lungs aching every time you took a breath due to your broken ribs. Physical therapy was attended weekly for the leg and wrist that were shattered, the healing process incredibly slow on those two as Ashton stuck by your side.

But the worst part was the nightmares. 

You’d wake up crying, panic attacks rolling over you as you forced yourself to sit up, Ashton stirring beside you. 

It felt like every night you were crying into his chest, the terrifying images of you dead seared into your mind as you begged Ashton to tell you what was wrong with you. And every time, he’d cup your face so gently, so lovingly, and press a kiss to your forehead as he said, “Nothing is wrong with you.”

The positive side was every step you took, every dumbbell you lifted, and every smile you gave was a sign of your strength returning. Ashton proudly helped you get around, seating you in the studio during his busy days and showering you with enough love to make you sick. He stayed glued to your side during your process, every appointment on his calendar and every success being celebrated. 

It was at another P.T. appointment on a very special day that you got frustrated, the therapist helping you work through a muscle cramp as you laid on your back, Ashton hovering above you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, your husband raising an eyebrow at you. “I know this isn’t exactly a good way to celebrate our anniversary.”