#morgue.writes

"I'll earn wrinkles worrying about you idiots trying to set new land-speed records on camera," you shot back, but your voice came out softer than intended.

Colt's blue eyes had sparked with mischief. "Good. Means you're thinking about me."

Nothing ever crossed the line. A charged comment here, a brush of fingers there, the way his gaze would drop to your mouth for half a second before he smirked and walked off to the next setup. The tension sat between you like a live wire, visible to everyone paying attention yet remained untouched. Professional.

Today the schedule called for a big vehicle final chase. Colt was doubling the lead again, suited up in a reinforced black fire layer that did absolutely nothing to hide the wide breadth of his shoulders. You stood near video village, clipboard clenched tightly to your chest as you watched him climb up into the modified pickup.

He caught your eye right before the safety check. Instead of his usual cocky wink, he gave you a small, almost private nod. I got this. Your stomach twisted anyways.

The first two takes were flawless. The third was not.

You heard the stunt coordinator's sharp "Wait-!" right as the truck hit the ramp at the wrong angle. The rigging snapped. Metal screamed. The pickup flipped hard, once, twice, crashing roof-first onto the asphalt in a shower of sparks and shattered glass.

For one terrifying heartbeat, the entire set went silent.

Then chaos.

"Colt!" You were moving before you even realized it, shoving past PA's and grips, heart hammering against your ribs. The safety team reached him first, but you dropped to your knees beside the wreckage anyway as he dragged himself out the driver's side window.

Blood streaked down the side of his face from a cut above his eyebrow. He was favoring his left side heavily, one arm clutched tight against his ribs, jaw locked in a tight grimace. Dust and grease smeared across his suit.

"Easy," you said, voice shaking as you helped steady him. "Don't move too fast. The medics should have a look at you."

"I'm good. I just need to sit down for a minute," he grunted, but the way he leaned into your shoulder said otherwise. His breathing was shallow, pained. Up close you could see the sweat on his temples and the way his hands trembled slightly from adrenaline and injury.

"Liar," you whispered. You slipped an arm around his waist, careful not to press on his ribs, and guided him toward the cluster of production trailers. He let you. His free hand settled low on your back, steadying himself. The heat of his palm burned through your thin shirt.

Inside the nearest trailer you used as a makeshift office, you eased him down onto the small couch. He hissed when his back met the cushions.

"Stay put," you ordered, already rummaging through the well stocked first aid kit. Your hands were steadier than you felt as you knelt in front of him, tilting his chin up to inspect the cut.

Colt watched you the whole time, eyes half-lidded. "You didn't have to run out there like that," he said quietly. "Could've been dangerous."

"You could've been hurt worse." You dabbed antiseptic on the gash, trying to ignore how close yours faces were. His breath ghosted across your wrist. "And I... I needed to see you were okay."

A beat of silence stretched between you. That familiar tension coiled tighter, thick enough to taste. His gaze dropped to your lips again, longer this time. You swallowed hard and focused on bandaging the cut.

The on-set medic arrived a minute later, along with the stunt coordinator. The checked Colt over thoroughly, two cracked ribs, bruised shoulder and the usual collection of scrapes and gashes. No hospital needed, but he was officially done for the day and ordered to stay on house arrest for at least the next week.

"I can drive myself," Colt protested as the medic left.

"You're not driving anywhere," you said firmly, cutting him off. "I'll take you home. No arguments."

He looked like he wanted to argue anyway, but after a long second he just exhaled and nodded, that trademark smirk weakened by pain. "Yes ma'am."

The drive to his place was quiet. Colt kept one hand pressed to his ribs and the other resting on the center console, close enough that your fingers nearly brushed every time you shifted gears. You helped him inside the modest but surprisingly neat house on the edge of town, ignoring the way your pulse spiked when he leaned on you again walking up the steps.

You settled him on the couch with ice packs, painkillers and a glass of water. The late afternoon light filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes across his face. He looked exhausted but still unfairly handsome, hair messy and shirt discarded in favor of just a compression wrap around his torso.

"You don't have to stay," he murmured, eyes already drifting shut as the meds kicked in. "I've crashed harder than this before. This is just another Thursday for me."

"I know." You tucked a blanket over his lap. Your hand hovered near his uninjured shoulder. "But I'm going to. At least until you're not wincing every time you breathe."

Colt's eyes opened again, softer now. The tension that had simmered for weeks was still there, heavier now in the quiet of his living room. No cameras. No crew watching. Just the two of you.

He reached up slowly, fingers brushing your wrist. Not pulling you closer, just holding the contact, warm and careful.

"Thank you," he said, voice low and rough. "For looking out for me today."

You stayed.

The first night you told yourself it was just until the painkillers fully kicked in and you were sure none of his symptoms were going to worsen. By the second day, that excuse had quietly dissolved. Colt didn't ask you to leave, and you didn't offer.

His house was quieter that you expected, modest, with warm leather furniture, a surprising number of books stacked on shelves, and framed photos of wild stunt crashes and sunsets from various film locations. You made yourself useful. Mornings started with coffee (black for him and a heavy dose of sugar and cream in your mug), followed by convincing Colt to stay on the couch instead of trying to "walk it off."

"You're terrible at resting," you muttered on the third morning, adjusting the ice pack over his wrapped ribs.

Colt leaned back against the cushions with a low hiss, shirtless except for the compression bandage. The bruising along his left side had bloomed into deep purples and muddled greens, but the cut above his eyebrow was already scabbing over nicely. "I've been shot at, thrown off bridges, and set on fire for a living. Sitting still feels like a punishment."

"Too bad." You gently pressed the ice pack into place, your fingertips brushing the warm skin just above the bandage. His breath caught, and for a second neither of you moved. You cleared your throat and stepped back. "Medic's orders. At least seventy-two hours minimum, remember? You're on day three and you still wince when you breathe too deep."

He watched you with that half-lidded stare that always made your stomach flip. "You're bossy when you're worried."

"I'm not worried," you lied, turning toward the kitchen so he wouldn't see the flush on your cheeks. "I just don't want to explain to the director why his best stuntman is out for a month instead of a week."

Colt's low chuckle followed you. "Sure sweetheart. Keep telling yourself that."

-

By evening he was restless. You helped him to the back porch so he could get some fresh air, one arm carefully looped around his waist as he moved slowly down the short hallway. His body was solid and warm against your side, and every shift reminded you just how close you were. His fingers flexed against your hip like he wanted to hold on tighter but was holding himself back.

Once settled in a cushioned outdoor chair, he let out a long breath.

"You don't have to do all this," he said quietly, staring out at the fenced yard. "I know you've got work tomorrow."

"I swapped shifts with Emma. She's covering set notes for a couple days." You sat in the chair beside him, tucking your legs up underneath you. "Besides... someone has to make sure you eat more than protein bars and beer."

He turned his head, studying you in the fading light. The usual cocky smirk was softer around the edges now, worn down by pain and the strange intimacy of being taken care of. "Why are you really, then?"

You hesitated, tracing a fingertip around the seam of the chair cushion. The tension that had lived between you for weeks felt different now, less like a live wire and more like a slow-burning flame.

"Because I saw you pull yourself out of that wreck," you admitted. "And for a second I thought..." you swallowed. "I didn't like how that felt. So I'm here. Until you're better."

Colt was quiet for a long moment. Then his hand reached across the space between your chairs, palm up. Not demanding, just an offer. You slid your fingers into his. His grip was warm and careful, thumb brushing slowly over your knuckles.

"I've been thinking about you for weeks," he said, voice low. "Every time I climbed into a rig, every time I walked part video village. Kept telling myself to keep it professional. Didn't want to mess up your job or scare you off."

Your heart thudded hard. "You didn't scare me off."

"No?" His mouth curved, tired but genuine. "Even though I'm currently grumpy and useless?"

"Especially then." You squeezed his hand. "I like seeing the version of you that isn't jumping out of exploding car. Makes me feel like I get the real Colt for a little while. Though, I wish it was different circumstances."

He let out a rough breath that might have been a laugh. His thumb kept stroking your skin, slow and absent, like he couldn't help himself. The two of you sat there as the sun dipped low, hands folded together. Colt sat there, ribs aching and shoulder stiff but fully content to stay in that moment for as long as possible.

-

The next few days blurred together in a rhythm of small comforts. You made him soup and forced him to eat it. He let you change his bandages without complaining too much, though his jaw stayed tight every time your fingers grazed the tender bruises. In the evenings you sat together on the couch watching old action movies, his head eventually tipping toward your shoulder as the pain meds pulled him under the lull of sleep. You stayed still every time, afraid to wake him, afraid to lose the quiet weight of him trusting you like this.

One afternoon while you were folding a fresh ice pack wrap in the kitchen, Colt appeared in the doorway, moving better now though still slow. He'd managed to pull on a soft blue t-shirt, and some of the color had returned back to his face.

"You're healing." you said, unable to hide the relief in your voice.

"Slowly." He leaned against the frame, watching you. "I'll be back on light duty in a few days. Coordinator already called."

You nodded, suddenly aware of how close the end of this little bubble was. "Good. That's... good."

Colt crossed the room carefully until he was standing right in front of you. Close. Closer than he'd let himself get since the crash. His hand lifted, knuckles brushing a stray stand of hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness.

"I've been a shitty patient," he murmured. "But having you here.. it's been the best thing that's come out of this wreck."

Your breath caught. His eyes dropped to your mouth, dark with intent. The months of built up tension crackling between you like it might finally break. His thumb lingered on your cheek.

"You're still recovering," you whispered, even as you leaned lightly into his touch.

Colt's smile was small and pained, but his voice was steady. "Yeah. I know" He exhaled, resting his forehead lightly against yours for just a second. "Doesn't make me want you any less though."

He pulled back before either of you could cross that final line, but the promise in his eyes was unmistakable.

Soon. When he was better. When he could hold you without wincing. And you both knew it.

By day six, Colt was moving much better. The deep bruises on his ribs had shifted into ugly yellow-green, and he could take a full breath without his lungs aching. He'd been making good process but you knew he still was pained every once in a while. You caught him grimacing every time he twisted too fast or tried to reach for something on a high shelf. He'd grunt and play it off with a smirk and a laugh but you saw the strain.

That evening you were both on the couch again, the lights low and an old western playing on the television. Colt had convinced you to sit closer tonight, his good arm stretched along the back of the couch so his fingers could idly play with the ends of your hair. The casual touches had become bolder; his hand on your lower back when you brought him water, your thigh pressed against his as you sat on the couch together, the way he looked at you like he was memorizing every detail.

"You keep staring," you said softly, turning your head to meet his eyes.

"Can't help it." His voice was rough, lower than usual. "Been stuck in this house with the prettiest script supervisor in Hollywood taking care of me. A man's got limits."

You laughed, but the sound died when his fingers slid from your hair to the nape of your neck, fingertips tangling in the strands. The air thickened instantly. That familiar live wire tension snapped tight between you, the last week of almost and what-ifs finally demanding attention.

"Colt..." you whispered.

He didn't let you finish. He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn't. The moment his lips met yours the kiss was soft, testing. Then the dam broke.

Colt made a low sound in throat and pulled you closer, his mouth turning hungry. Weeks of restrained want poured out as he kissed like he'd been starving for it. His hand cupped the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair while the other gripped your hip. You shifted toward him, knees pressing into the couch as you kissed him back just as hard.

It deepened fast. Tongues sliding, breaths mingling, bodies trying to get closer despite the awkward angle on the couch. His stubble scraped deliciously against your skin. You nipped at his bottom lip and he ground, the sound vibrating through you. For a moment it felt perfect, electric, everything you'd both been holding back.

Then he twisted slightly to pull you into his lap and a sharp, pained hiss escaped him.

You felt it immediately, the way his body tensed and how his breath stuttered against your mouth. His left side locked up, ribs protesting the movement.

"Shit-" He broke the kiss with a grimace, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to breathe through the sharp spike of pain.

"Colt," you breathed, instantly pulling back. Your hands framed his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. "Hey, easy. Breathe."

He leaned his forehead against yours, eyes still closed and jaw tight. "I'm fine," he rasped, but the strain in his voice said otherwise. One hand stayed possessively on your hip while other moved to be pressed carefully to his wrapped ribs. "Just... moved wrong. Goddamn it."

You stayed by his side, careful to keep your weight off him as you stroked his hair while the pain slowly subsided. Your heart was still racing, lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss. "We should stop," you whispered, even though every part of you didn't want to. "You're not ready for this yet."

Colt let out a frustrated huff, eyes finally opening. They were dark, frustrated and full of the same want still burning in your chest. "I've wanted to do that for weeks. Months, maybe. And now my own body's cockblocking me."

You laughed softly, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You're healing. That was.. intense. Too intense for cracked ribs."

For a long moment he just looked at you then leaned in again, this time slower and more deliberate. This kiss was unhurried, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, sensual rhythm that made your toes curl. He kissed you like he was learning the shape of your mouth, like he wanted to commit every sigh and taste to memory. It was intense in a different way, full of promise and barely leashed hunger. Your fingers curled into his shirt as heat pooled low in your stomach. Colt angled his head, kissing you harder for a few perfect second, a quiet groan rumbling in his chest.

But then his ribs protested again. He pulled back with a sharp inhale, jaw clenched tight. "Damn it. I want you so it's killing me. Literally, apparently."

You let out a breathless laugh, "when you're healed.. when you can move without wincing.. we're not stopping."

Colt's eyes darkened with heat and agreement. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, still slightly swollen from his kisses.

"Deal," he rasped. "First day I'm cleared.. I'm taking my time with you sweetheart. No rushing. No pain. Just me and you."

You smiled, curling carefully against his good side as his arm wrapped around you. The movie played on, completely forgotten. For now, this was enough. The steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his body, and the sweet anticipation of everything still to come.

He pressed one last gentle kiss to your mouth then to the top of your head, murmuring against your hair, "Worth the wait. You always are."

-

Later that night, the house was quiet except for the low hum of the ceiling fan. The western had ended hours ago and you'd both been lingering in the comfortable silence that followed your kiss.

You stood from the couch and stretched, glancing toward the linen closet. "I'm gonna grab the extra blankets. Sleep is calling my name."

Colt, still sitting with one hand carefully braced against his ribs, frowned. He watched you for a long moment, the lamplight catching the bruise along his jaw and the healing cut above his eyebrow.

"You don't have to keep sleeping out here," he said quietly.

You pause, arms full of the folded blankets you'd been using the last few nights. "It's fine. I don't mind."

"I do." He pushed himself up slowly, jaw tightening at the movement though he managed to maneuver without a groan this time. He crossed the short distance until he was standing in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "My bed's big. Plenty of room. And I'd sleep a hell of a lot better knowing you weren't all cramped on that old lumpy couch."

Your heart shuttered. Sharing his bed felt like another line crossed, more intimate than the kisses even if nothing else happened. You searched his face, looking for any sign he was pushing through pain just to be polite.

"Colt.. you're still hurting. I don't want to accidentally elbow you in the ribs in the middle of the night."

His mouth curved into that familiar half-smirk, though it was softer now, almost vulnerable. "Sweetheart, I've been lying in that big empty big bed for the last week thinking about you out here. If you're worried about hurting me, I'll sleep on the right side. You can have the left. I just..." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. "I want you closer. That's all."

The honesty in his voice made your chest tighten. You'd spent days taking care of him, changing ice packs, making sure he took his meds, catching him when he'd try to do too much.. but this felt different. More personal.

"Okay," you said softly. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

-

A little while later, after you'd both gotten ready for bed, you slipped beneath the covers of his king-sized bed. Colt eased himself down on the right side with a careful breath, wearing nothing a pair of loose sweatpants. The compression wrap was still snug around his torso, the bruises on his ribs a vivid reminder of why you both needed to be gentle.

You settled on your side facing him, leaving a careful gap between your bodies. The sheets smelled like him, clean soap and that warm, masculine smell that always made your pulse quicken. For a minute, neither of you spoke. The only light came from the hallway nightlight spilling faintly through the open door of the bedroom.

Colt turned his head towards you, "Come here."

You hesitated only a second before sliding closer. He lifted his right arm carefully, and you tucked yourself against his uninjured side, head resting on his shoulder, one hand lightly splayed across his chest. His arm curled around your back, palm settling possessively just above the curve of your waist.

"Better?" you whispered.

"Much." His voice rumbled under your cheek. His fingers traced slow, absent patterns on your back through your sleep shirt. "I've been wanting this since the first time you patched me up after that wreck."

You smiled against his skin. "Even when you were being a grumpy patient?"

"Especially then." He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, then another to your temple. "You make me feel.. looked after. Not many people do that for me."

You tilted your head up to look at him. He leaned down to kiss you, slow and sweet this time. No frantic hunger. Just the lingering pressure and the gentle slide of his lips against yours. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

Colt let out a contented breath, his arm tightening around you just a little. The house grew quieter as the lull of sleep started to tug at both of you. His heartbeat was steady under your palm, the constant thumping lulling you to sleep.

"Night, sweetheart," he murmured into your hair.

"Goodnight, Colt."

-

Three and a half weeks later, Colt was finally cleared.

The moment the doctor gave him the all-clear, the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable. The drive home was thick with tension, his hand gripping your thigh the entire way, thumb stroking restlessly over your skin. You barely made it through the front door before he had you pinned against it.

His mouth crashed into yours with weeks of pent up longing. The kiss was deep, desperate and devouring- nothing like the tender kisses you'd shared while he was healing. Colt kissed you like a man who had been starving, tongue sliding hotly against yours, one large hand cradling the back of your head while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave light bruises in the shape of his fingers.

"Fuck, I've missed this," he groaned against your lips between kisses. "Missed your mouth. Missed the way you taste. Every night you were lying next to me I wanted to kiss you until you couldn't breathe."

You whimpered into his mouth as he tilted his head and kissed you even deeper, slower, more sensual. His stubble scraped deliciously against your skin. He sucked hard on your bottom lip, teeth biting into it before he soothed his tongue over it. The kiss turned filthy, the sounds of soft groans and whines filling the hallway. Your hands fisted in his shirt as heat pooled low in your belly.

Colt pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against your, both of you breathing hard.

"I need you." He rasped. "All of you."

He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom. The kisses never stopped, messy and urgent against your mouth, your jaw, your neck. By the time he laid you down on the bed, your lips were swollen and tingling.

Colt stripped you with reverence, but his hands trembled slightly with restraint. Every piece of clothing removed was followed by his mouth, kissing down your neck, sucking lightly at your pulse point, then lower. He spent long minutes lavishing attention on your breasts, tongue circling one nipple while his hand kneaded the other, groaning like he was the one being pleasured.

When he finally tugged your underwear down your legs and settled between your thighs, the sound he made was broken.

"Goddamn sweetheart.." His voice was wrecked with awe. He spread your thighs wider with those big, strong hands, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin right beside where you needed him most. "Look how wet you are. Been thinking about this pretty cunt for weeks. Dreamin about it."

He leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your center in one long, broad stroke. The moan that tore through his chest was pure bliss.

"Fuck- You taste even better than I imagined."

Colt didn't tease. He buried his face in you like a man possessed, pussy drunk from the very first taste. His mouth was hot and greedy, licking and sucking with shameless hunger. He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked gently, then firmer, alternating with slow, sensual circles of his tongue that had your back arching up off the bed.

"Oh my god- Colt-"

He moaned loudly against you, the vibrations shooting pleasure through your core. His hips rocked helplessly into the mattress, seeking friction as he devoured you. Two thick fingers slowly pushed inside you, curling perfectly against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

"So fucking sweet," he mumbled, barely pulling away long enough to speak. His voice was thick, lips shiny with your arousal. "Could eat this cunt for hours. Been dying to drown in you baby. You're so wet.. so perfect. Good girl, letting me taste you like this."

He dove back in with renewed fervor, licking and sucking messily, fingers thrusting deeper. The obscene wet sounds of his mouth filled the room alongside your moans and his constant, low groans of pleasure. He was completely lost in it, eyes half closed in ecstasy, stubble rubbing against your inner thighs, tongue working you relentlessly.

Every time you clenched around his fingers he moaned like it was the best thing he'd ever felt.

"That's it," he praised, voice rough and adoring between long licks. "Ride my face, pretty girl. Use me. Fuck, you're squeezing so tight around my fingers.. Cunt's gonna feel like heaven on my cock."

Your thighs began to tremble, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter under his expert, hungry mouth. Colt could feel it. He doubled down, sucking your clit hard while his fingers curled faster, growling praises against your soaked flesh.

"Come for me baby. Want to feel you come on my tongue. Been waiting so fucking long for this."

The orgasm crashed over you hard. You cried out his name, hips bucking against his face as pleasure flowed through every nerve. Colt moaned loudly, licking you through every wave like he couldn't get enough, drawing out your pleasure until you were shaking and breathless.

Only then did he kiss his way back up your body, lips and chin glistening. He captured your mouth in a deep, filthy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, dipping his tongue into your mouth before pulling back out of the kiss.

"I'm nowhere near done with you yet," he whispered against your lips, eyes dark. "Tell me you're ready for more, sweetheart."

"Yes," you breathed, pulling him down into another messy kiss. "I want you, Colt. All of you."

That was all he needed.

With a low growl, Colt manhandled you like you weighed nothing, maneuvering your body how he wanted. He sat up straight, tugging his shirt off over his head to discard it somewhere with your clothes.

"Been dying to fuck you properly," he rasped, shoving his jeans and boxers off, also being discarded to the floor. His cock slapped heavily against the skin of his lower stomach, "No more holding back."

He gripped your thighs, spreading them wide and pushing them back to your chest, folding you open beneath him. Colt stared down at your dripping cunt with raw hunger, stroking himself once before dragging the head through your slick folds.

"Fuck.. look at you," he groaned, then pushed in with one deep, long thrust.

You cried out at the stretch as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. The groan that tore from his throat was guttural.

"So tight.. so fucking perfect," he panted before starting to move, deep thrusts that shook the bed frame with every push forward.

Colt kept your thighs pinned back, manhandling you exactly how he wanted as he fucked you. Every thrust was hard and claiming, his grip bruising in the most delicious way. He leaned down to kiss you hard, swallowing your moans while his hips drove into you.

"Been waiting so long for this," he growled against your mouth. "Every night you were next to me in my bed, I wanted to pull you under me and fuck you just like this."

He suddenly pulled out, making you whine at the loss, only to flip you onto your stomach with ease. He yanked your hips up, shoved a pillow underneath them and slammed back inside you from behind in one smooth thrust.

"Shit- yes," you moaned loudly, pushing back against him.

Colt's hand fisted in your hair as the other gripped your ass, spreading you open so he could watch every inch of his cock disappearing inside you. He pounded into you with deep, rhythmic strokes, the wet slap of skin filling the room.

"That's my good girl," he praised. "Taking me so fucking well. This cunt feel even better than I dreamed."

He leaned over your back, lips brushing over the shell of your ear as one arm wrapped around you. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles while he kept fucking you hard.

"You're so wet for me, baby. Been aching for this cock, haven't you?"

"Yes! Colt, please," you gasped, clenching around him.

"I know baby, I know. I'm gonna take care of you." He groaned at the feeling, hips snapping harder. "Gonna fill you up so good, pretty girl."

The manhandling continued as he pulled you up onto your knees, back pressed to his chest. One of his big hands wrapped loosely around your throat, not quite tight enough to cut off your air supply, while the other stayed between your legs, rubbing your clit. He fucked up into you with deep, grinding thrusts, lips attached to your neck.

Every movement was controlled, powerful, and full of months of built up yearning. Colt kissed and bit at your shoulder, murmuring praise between heavy breaths.

"Such a good fucking girl for me.. letting me have you like this. Been dying to feel you come on my cock."

The angle, his fingers and the sheer intensity finally pushed you over the edge. You came hard with a broken cry, pulsing around him. Colt fucked through it, arms wrapped tight around you, like he couldn't bear even an inch of separation.

For a long moment, you both stayed like that, breathing hard as Colt gave you a moment to recollect yourself. He pressed soft, open mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder as he stayed buried in you.

He pulled out and carefully lowered you back down onto the bed, helping you to get all situated on your back once again.

"Think you can take me again?" He smiled as you nodded.

Colt leaned down to kiss you deeply as you caught your breath, his tongue sliding lazily against yours. His head of his cock bumped your clit as he slowly ground himself against you, already desperate to get back inside you.

"I need you deeper," he murmured against your lips. "Need to fuck you so full you feel me for days."

Before you could respond, Colt pulled back and moved his hands to your thighs, folding you in half beneath him again, this time harder. Your knees pressed toward your shoulders, ankles framing your head in a deep press. The position left you completely open and helpless, pussy tilted upward and fully exposed for him.

"Fuck, look at you." Colt groaned, eyes raking over your folded body. "So pretty like this. Spread open just for me."

He braced his hands on the backs of your thighs, pinning you down as he lined up and sank back inside you in one long, devastating thrust. The new angle allowing him in even deeper. You moaned loudly at the intense stretch, feeling every thick inch of him.

Colt leaned down, folding you even tighter and captured your mouth in a tight kiss. His tongue plunged deep, matching the rhythm of his cock as he started fucking you with slow, hard strokes.

"Goddamn," he panted between kisses. "This cunt is taking me so deep. Feel that?" He ground his hips in a slow circle, pressing against your cervix. "Gonna fill you right here. Get you nice and full of me."

You whimpered into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders as he kissed you again, messy and desperate. Every thrust drove the air from your lungs. Colt's body covered yours completely, muscles flexing as he held you folded and fucked you hard.

"You want it, don't you?" he growled, "Want me to breed this pretty cunt?"

"Yes- Colt please," you gasped, clenching hard around him. "Fill me up please."

The words made him moan loudly. He kissed you again, harder this time. The wet obscene sound of his cock driving into your soaked cunt filled the room with every deep thrust.

"That's my good girl," he praised against your lips, kissing you between sentences. "Taking me so well. You were made for this weren't you ? Made for me to breed you ?"

He shifted his angle slightly and hit that perfect spot inside you, making you cry out into his mouth. Colt swallowed every moan, kissing you like he wanted to devour you whole.

His pace grew punishing, hips slamming down into you. The position made everything feel more intense, more intimate.

"Come for me sweetheart," he breathed against your mouth, eyes locked on yours. "Want to feel this cunt milk my cock when I fill you up."

The combination of his deep thrusts, his filthy words, and the constant hungry kisses sent you in a downward spiral. You came hard with a broken cry, clenching and pulsing around his cock. Colt groaned loudly, kissing you through your orgasm as his own release hit. He buried himself as deep as possible and came with a low groan, flooding you with thick, hot spurts.

He kept you folded beneath him, grinding slowly through the aftershocks, kissing you softly as he emptied every drop inside you.

"Stay just like this," he whispered, pressing gentle kisses to your swollen lips, your cheeks, your forehead.

Colt finally eased your legs down, pulling out and settling onto his back. He pulled you to lay on his chest, hand soothing over your back and spine.

Not quite done with him, you climbed up into his lap, exhausted but still aching for him. "Wanna ride you, please?"

Colt groaned as he nodded, watching as you lined yourself up with his cock and slowly sank onto it, being filled inch by delicious inch yet again. Your hands were braced against his chest as you lowered yourself until your hips were flush with his.

"Fuck.. that's it," he breathed, hands coming up to settle gently on your waist.

This time there was no frantic manhandling or pounding thrusts. The pace was slow, intimate and tender. You rolled your hips in lazy circles, then rocked gently back and forth, savoring the deep, full feeling of him inside you. Colt's hands slid up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples as he watched you with pure adoration.

"You're so beautiful like this," he whispered, eyes locked on yours. "Riding me so well.. after I've already fucked you so hard. My good girl."

Colt wrapped one arm around your back, holding you while his other hand guided your hips in a gentle rhythm. Every roll of your hips drew quiet wrecked sounds from both of you. The intensity had shifted into something warmer and more emotional. You could feel every inch of him dragging along your walls as you rode him unhurriedly.

His grip on your hips tightened just slightly, but he let you keep control of the pace. The gentle wet, sounds of your body moving together filled the quiet room. Colt pulled you down to kiss you, occasionally breaking away to kiss and bite at your neck or whisper sweet praises against your skin.

"You feel so fucking good.. so warm and tight around me," he groaned.

Your thighs started to tremble with exhaustion and building pleasure. Colt slid one hand between your bodies, rubbing gentle circles over your clit with his thumb. The added stimulation made you whimper into his mouth.

"I'm close," you gasped.

"Me too," he groaned, leaning up to kiss you again. "Come with me sweetheart. Want to fill you up one more time."

The slow, deep grind of your hips combined with his thumb finally pushed you over the edge with Colt following you right after. He groaned into your mouth as he spilled into you, hand roughly holding your hip as he ground up into you, trying to push every drop as deep as possible.

You collapsed onto his chest, completely spent, his cock still buried deep inside you. Colt wrapped both arms around you, holding you tightly against him as you both caught your breath. He pressed slow, lazy kisses to everywhere he could reach with his mouth. Once your breath was sufficiently caught he rolled you onto your back.

"Easy, baby." he murmured, voice low. He slowly pulled out of you, groaning softly at the sight of his cum leaking out of your cunt. For a moment he stared, fighting the urge to try and scoop it back into you before he shook himself out of it.

He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a warm, damp cloth. You expected him to hand it to you, but Colt gently pushed your thighs apart again and cleaned you up with careful, tender strokes.

"You're shaking," he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Did I wear you out?"

"Completely," you admitted with a small smile as your head cuddled further into the plush pillow beneath it.

Once he was satisfied you were clean, he tossed the cloth aside and climbed back into bed, pulling the comforter over both of you. He immediately drew you into his arms, tucking you against his chest so your head rested on his shoulder. One of his legs tangled with yours, and his hand settled possessively on your hip under the blanket.

For a while, you just lay there in comfortable silence, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin while you listened to his heartbeat slow down.

"So.. what are we doing here?" He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Because after tonight.. I don't think I can go back to pretending there's nothing between us on set."

You tilted your head to look up at him. "What do you want this to be, Colt?"

He was quiet for a moment, thinking. His hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing gently along your jaw.

"I want you," he said simply. "Not just like this. I want to take you out when we're not shooting. I want to kiss you good morning and goodnight. I want the crew to know you're mine so they stop looking at you like they have a chance." He let out a small chuckle, "I've been crazy about you for months. The crash just gave me an excuse to finally let myself have you."

You heart swelled. You reached up and traced the faint scar above his eyebrow from the accident.

"I want that too," you whispered. "I've wanted it for a long time. But.. we work together. Are we going to keep this quiet on set?"

Colt shook his head. "I don't want to hide it. I'm not saying we make out in front of the director, but I'm not pretending anymore. You're mine now." He tilted your chin up and kissed you slowly, tenderly. "If you'll have me."

You smiled against his lips. "I'm yours."

He exhaled in relief and pulled you even closer, wrapping both arms around you now. "Good. Because I'm not letting you sleep on that damn couch ever again. This bed is ours now."

You nestled deeper into his chest, feeling safe and warm and completely spent.

"So.. boyfriend?" you asked playfully, tracing circles on his lower stomach with the tip of your fingers.

Colt's laugh rumbled under your ear. "Boyfriend. Partner. Whatever you want to call me. As long as you're in my bed every night and I get to take care of you the way you took care of me."

He lifted your face up again for another slow, sweet kiss.

"We'll figure out the set stuff as go," he murmured. "But this? Us? This is happening. I've waited too long to waster any more time."

You nodded, pressing one last kiss to his chest before letting exhaustion pull you under.

"Sounds perfect to me."

Colt held you tighter, lips brushing the top of your head as sleep started to claim him too.

Six exhaled, forehead resting against yours. "You don't have to-"

"I want to." You kissed him once, slow and reassuring. Then again, deeper. He tasted like rain and adrenaline and faint metallic taste of gun smoke. his arms tightened around you as the kiss grew heated, his tongue sliding against yours with quiet hunger.

You guided him backwards to the couch, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. Piece by piece, you stripped away the armor, literally and figuratively, until he stood in just his black undershirt and pants. When he reached for you, you sank to your knees instead.

His breath hitched.

You looked up at him as you unbuckled his belt, hands steady. "Let me," You whispered again.

Six's fingers threaded gently into your hair, not guiding, just holding. His eyes never left your face as you freed his cock, already half hard and thickening under your touch. You pressed a soft kiss to the head, then another before taking him into your mouth.

A low, broken sound rumbled in his chest.

You worked him slowly, lovingly, tongue swirling around the head, cheeks hollowing out as you took him deeper. One hand stroked what your mouth couldn't reach while the other rested on his tense muscular thigh, feeling the muscle jump under your palm. Six's head tipped back for a moment, throat working, before he looked down again, watching you with something close to reverence.

"God... baby," he breathed, voice rough. "Your mouth feels so good."

You hummed around him, taking him deeper until his tip bumped against the back of your throat. His fingers tightened slightly in your hair, but he never pushed. Just let you set the pace, let you pour every ounce of care into him. You sucked him with wet, deliberate strokes, eyes watering but never breaking contact. Every soft groan and whispered praise made heat bloom low in your belly.

After several long minutes, Six gently tugged you off him, breathing hard.

"Enough," he rasped, breathing hard as his chest tightened. "My turn."

He pulled you up and kissed you deeply, tasted himself on your tongue. He lifted you into his arms effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, being extremely mindful not to knock you into anything in your dimly lit apartment. The lights stayed off, only the city glow through the half cracked blinds illuminated the room. He laid you down on the bed like you were something precious, then stripped the rest of his clothes and yours with patient hands.

Six settled between your thighs, broad shoulders spreading you open. He kissed the inside of your knee, then higher, slow and deliberate, until his mouth hovered over your aching center. You were already soaked.

He looked up at you, eyes dark with want and need. "Been thinking about this the whole way home."

Then his mouth was on you.

A broken moan left your lips as his tongue dragged slowly through your folds. He licked you like he had all the time in the world, long and flat strokes followed by teasing flicks against your clit. Two thick fingers slid inside you, curling gently, stroking that perfect spot while his mouth sealed around your clit and sucked softly.

Your back arched off the bed.

Six groaned against you, the vibration making your thighs tremble. You glanced down and felt a fresh rush of heat. His free hand was wrapped around his own cock, stroking himself in slow, firm pulls while he devoured you.

The sight was devastatingly intimate.

"Court..." you whimpered.

He hummed in response, tongue working faster, fingers thrusting deeper. His own hand moved in rhythm with his mouth, twisting over the head of his cock on every upstroke. The wet sounds of mouth and his hand filled the quiet room, mixing with your gasps and moans. He ate you out with a focused passion, messy, devoted, like your pleasure was the only thing grounding him after the day he'd had.

When your thighs started shaking around his head, he doubled down, sucking your clit and curling his fingers just right. You came hard, crying out his name, hips grinding against his mouth. He kept licking you through it, gentler now, until you were twitching and oversensitive.

Only then did he pull back, lips shiny, eyes blown wide with lust. His cock was flushed dark and leaking in his fist.

He crawled up your body, kissing every inch on the way, your stomach, between your breasts, your throat, your jaw. When he finally settled between your legs, he braced himself on his forearms so he could look at you.

"You sure?" he asked softly, making sure to check in.

You nodded, cupping his face. "I need you inside me, Court."

Six kissed you deeply as he lined himself up and pushed in, slow, steady and relentless. The stretch was perfect. You both moaned into each other's mouths as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. For a long moment he just stayed there, buried to the hilt, forehead pressed to yours.

"Fuck.. you feel like home." he whispered.

Then he started moving.

His thrusts were deep and rolling, passionate rather than frantic. Every stroke dragged against that sweet spot inside you, his pelvis grinding against your clit on every downstroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back, pulling him impossibly closer.

Six's eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time. Every few thrusts he'd lean down to kiss you, slow and open-mouthed kisses that matched the rhythm of his hips. His hand slid into your hair, cradling your head. The other braced beside your head, muscles flexing as he rocked into you again and again.

"I missed you," he breathed against your lips before nuzzling into your neck, panting across your heated skin. "Missed this. Missed feeling you around me."

You whimpered, nails dragging down his back. No doubt leaving raised red lines in their wake. "Harder. Please."

He gave you what you asked for, deeper, more powerful strokes that almost rocked the bed. His mouth found your neck, suckling lightly, then moved to your breasts. His tongue circled one nipple while he kept fucking you in those long, devastating thrusts.

The pleasure built slowly, powerfully. Every roll of his hips dragged you closer to the edge. You could feel how close he was too, the slight tremor in his arms and the way his breathing was growing ragged.

"Look at me," He lightly ordered when your eyes fluttered shut.

You did and the contact pushed you over. Your orgasm rolled through you in long pulsing waves, clenching tight around his cock. Six groaned your name, hips stuttering but he kept moving through it. He drew out your orgasm until you were gasping and trembling beneath him.

Only then did he let himself go. He came with a low, broken moan as he pushed himself into you as deeply as he physically could. His forehead dropped to yours, eyes squeezed tightly shut as pleasure wracked his body. You held him through it, stroking his hair, whispering soft praises against his temples.

For a long time afterward, neither of you moved. Eventually Six kissed you slow and sweet, then carefully pulled out. You whimpered at the loss, feeling his release beginning to drip down your thighs. He noticed immediately.

"Shower with me?" he said softly against your lips.

You nodded. With shaky legs, he helped you stand up and with one strong arm around your waist he helped guide you to the bathroom.

The water was hot the moment he turned it on. Steam quickly filled the glass enclosure as he pulled you under the spray with him. Six washed you first, large, gentle hands sliding over your body with a reverence that made your chest ache. He soaped your shoulders, your breasts, the curve of your waist, then carefully between your legs. He murmured soft apologies when you shivered from oversensitivity.

You returned the favor, running soapy hands over his scarred chest and back, tracing every mark you could reach. His cock, still half-hard, twitched under your touch. You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking slowly from base to tip, twisting gently over the head just the way you knew he liked.

Six groaned low in his throat, hips rolling subtly into your fist. "Baby," His voice was rough, eyes half-lidded as he watched your hand move over him.

You kept stroking him under the hot water, slow and slick, until he was fully hard again, thick and flushed in your palm. He let you pleasure him for a long minute, breathing heavier with one hand braced on the tile beside your head before catching your wrist with his hand.

"Enough," he rasped. "Need to be inside you again."

Before you could respond, Six lifted you into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he pinned you between his body and the shower wall. The position put you face to face, warm water cascading over the both of you. His strong hands gripped the backs of your thighs, holding you up like you weighed nothing.

He looked into your eyes, forehead resting against yours. "Hold onto me."

You looped your arms around his neck. He lined himself up and pushed inside you in one smooth, deep thrust. The new angle made you both moan loudly. He felt even bigger like this, stretching you open as gravity helped him sink all the way in.

"Fuck..." Six breathed against your mouth. "Can get you so deep like this."

He started fucking you with slow rolls of his hips, driving up into you while holding you securely in his arms. Each thrust pressed you harder into the tile. Your bodies were flush together, chest to chest, his mouth claiming yours between thrusts.

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he fucked you deep and steady. The position let him grind against your clit with every upward stroke, sending sparks of pleasure through you.

"You're so good," he groaned against your lips, voice strained from effort. "Taking me so well. Letting me have you again.. So fucking perfect."

His pace gradually increased, thrusts becoming harder and more desperate. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with the sound of the shower and your shared moans. One of his hands slid up to cradle the back of your head, protecting it from the tile while he drove into you.

When your moans turned sharper and your walls started fluttering around him, he pressed his forehead to yours again.

"Come on, baby. Let me feel you," he panted against your lips.

You came hard with a broken cry, clenching tight around his cock. Six followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling himself inside you with a low groan of your name, hips stuttering as he rode out his release.

He stayed buried inside you for a long moment afterward, holding you up in his arms while you both caught your breath under the warm spray of water. Then he carefully eased himself out of you and lowered your legs, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist so you wouldn't slip.

He took a quick moment to clean the both of you up again before turning off the water and wrapping you in a large fluffy towel. In the bedroom he dried you carefully, then dressed you in one of his large black t shirts. He laid you down on the bed and climbed in behind you, pulling your back flush against his chest.

His arms locked around you possessively but gently, one hand splayed over your stomach while the other stroked slow, soothing lines up and down your arm.

"You okay?" he asked softly, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. "I wasn't too rough in the end?"

"I'm perfect," you whispered, voice full of sleepiness and content. "I loved all of it."

Six hummed in quiet relief and nuzzled into your neck, pressing more soft kisses there. "You were incredible tonight. So beautiful when you come for me. So sweet when you let me take care of you after." His voice dropped even lower, warmed with affection. "I love you. More than I know how to say."

You threaded your fingers through his where they rested on your stomach and squeezed. He kissed the back of your shoulder in response, then settled in, holding you like you were the most precious thing in his dangerous world.

A few feet away, Driver stands silent beside the black sedan he’s been precision-driving for the high-speed inserts. The scorpion jacket is unzipped just enough to show the tight black shirt underneath. He hasn’t said much all night, but he’s been watching you those pale, unreadable eyes tracking every move you made while you coordinated the sequence. Now he’s looking at you like the only stunt left is how fast he can get you out of those pants.

You fold your arms, trying to keep your professional tone even though heat is already pooling low in your stomach. “This is still a work site, boys. Cameras are off, but security still does rounds.”

Colt pushes off the car and steps closer, crowding you gently against the side of the sedan. “Security knows better than to come back here when I’m testing rigs.” His fingers brush a loose strand of hair from your face, surprisingly gentle for someone who throws himself off buildings for fun. “And Driver… well. He’s been real patient all week. Haven’t you?”

Driver finally moves. He closes the distance on your other side, gloved hand settling on your hip with unmistakable possession. The leather is cool against the sliver of skin where your shirt has ridden up. He leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks for the first time in hours, voice low and gravel-rough:

“Take a break.” His fingers tighten. “Now.”

Colt’s grin widens, playful but hungry, as he tilts your chin toward him. “What do you say, sweetheart? Let the stunt team take care of you for once.”

The decision is made with barely any words. Colt flashes that boyish, troublemaker grin and tosses you the keys to his truck. “You’re riding with me, Coordinator. Driver’s gonna follow. He drives like a goddamn ghost anyway, better not lose him.”

Driver doesn’t argue. He simply nods once then slides into the black sedan. The engine purrs to life.

You end up in the passenger seat of Colt’s big black truck, the scent of motor oil, cologne, and faint gunpowder still clinging to the leather. The lot gate barely swings shut behind you before Colt’s hand finds your thigh, squeezing possessively as he pulls out onto the dark service road.

“Been thinking about this for weeks,” he admits, voice lower now that it’s just the two of you and the rumble of the engine. His fingers slide higher, rubbing slow circles against the inside of your thigh through your tactical pants. “Every time you chewed us out during rehearsal… every time you climbed up on the rigs in those tight pants… yeah. Real professional of me, I know.”

In the rearview mirror, Driver’s headlights stay right on your tail; close, steady, never falling back.

The drive to your apartment is only fifteen minutes, but it stretches. Colt keeps teasing, his hand stroking higher, thumb the seam where you’re already aching. He doesn’t go further than that. Not yet. Just enough to make you squirm in the seat while he murmurs filthy little observations about what he wants to do to you once you’re home.

When you finally pull into the underground parking of your building, Driver’s car glides in right beside you. The three of you step out in charged silence. Colt slings an arm around your waist as you lead them to the elevator. Driver walks on your other side, gloved hand resting at the small of your back, heavy, quiet, and impossibly controlling.

The elevator ride up is thick with tension. The second the doors close, Colt crowds you against the mirrored wall, kissing you hard and greedy, all tongue and playful nips. Driver watches for half a second before stepping in, turning your chin toward him with two leather-clad fingers and claiming your mouth next, slower, deeper, almost devastatingly intense. You taste the difference between them instantly: Colt’s heat and cocky hunger versus Driver’s quiet, barely-leashed control.

By the time the elevator dings on your floor, your lips are swollen and your pulse is hammering between your legs.

You fumble with your keys at the door. Colt’s chest presses against your back, lips on your neck. “Hurry up, sweetheart. I’ve got plans for you.”

Driver’s voice is right at your ear, low and rough: “So do I.”

The door barely clicks shut behind the three of you before the tension snaps.

Colt’s hands are the first to find you, gentle but eager, sliding around your waist from behind as he presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, voice warm and reassuring. “We’ve got you. No rush.”

Driver steps in front of you, his gloved hand cupping your jaw with firm, deliberate pressure. He tilts your face up to his and kisses you hard, deep and commanding, tongue stroking possessively against yours until your knees feel weak. When he pulls back, his pale eyes are dark with intent. “Breathe,” he orders quietly.

They work together without rushing you. Colt’s fingers find the hem of your fitted production tee, slowly peeling it upward. Driver’s hands slide down to unbuckle your belt and work open your tactical pants with precise, efficient movements. Every time your breath hitches, Colt murmurs soft praise against your lips, “Good girl… so fucking pretty for us”, while Driver keeps one firm hand on your hip, grounding you.

Soon your clothes are pooled on the floor, leaving you in just your bra and panties. Driver’s gloved fingers trace the edge of your bra with strict patience before unhooking it. Colt drops to one knee, kissing down your stomach as he tugs your panties down your legs, helping you step out of them.

“Bedroom?” Colt asks softly, lips brushing your hip.

Driver answers for you, voice low and authoritative. “Couch. Closer.” He guides you there with a firm hand on the small of your back.

They sit on the couch side by side, legs spread, both still fully dressed. The sight of them, Colt with his easy grin and Driver with that intense stare, makes heat flood between your thighs.

You sink to your knees between them. Colt reaches out first, stroking your cheek tenderly. “Only what you want, baby. Take your time.”

Driver’s hand slides into your hair, grip firm but not painful, guiding your mouth toward the obvious bulge in his black pants. “Open.”

You start with him. Driver watches with strict focus as you unzip him and take his thick cock into your mouth. He doesn’t thrust, he lets you set the pace at first, but his hand in your hair tightens when you take him deeper, a low groan rumbling in his chest. “Good. Deeper… that’s it.”

After a few moments, Colt gently turns your head toward him. “My turn, sweetheart,” he says softly, voice thick with need. His cock is already free, hard and flushed. He’s gentler, fingers stroking your hair instead of gripping, whispering praise as you swirl your tongue around him. “Fuck… look at you. So good for us. Just like that…”

You switch between them slowly, taking turns. Colt’s moans are breathier, encouraging, while Driver’s are quieter, rougher, his instructions low and commanding when he wants your attention back on him. Every time you switch, one of them is touching you, Colt’s soft caresses down your back and shoulders, Driver’s firm hand keeping you steady.

Driver’s patience finally snaps.

He slides his hand from your hair to under your chin, tilting your face up. His thumb drags across your swollen lower lip, voice low and commanding. “Enough.”

Before you can catch your breath, he pulls you up from your knees with strong hands under your arms and turns you around. Colt shifts on the couch, making room, his eyes dark with arousal as he watches. “Easy with her, man,” Colt murmurs, but there’s a thrill in his voice.

Driver doesn’t answer with words. He bends you over the arm of the couch in one smooth, firm motion, your chest and stomach pressed against the cushions while your ass stays raised for him. You feel the cool leather against your skin as he kicks your legs wider apart.

“Stay just like that,” Driver orders, voice rough and strict.

You hear the sound of his jeans rustling, then the blunt head of his cock is pressing against your soaked entrance. He doesn’t ease in. With one brutal thrust, Driver buries himself to the hilt inside you, stretching you open in a single hard stroke.

A sharp cry leaves your throat. The roughness is immediate and overwhelming, his hips snap forward again and again, fucking you deep and mercilessly. Each thrust is powerful, controlled, and punishing. His gloved hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise while the other presses between your shoulder blades, keeping your upper body pinned down against the couch.

“Fuck-,” you gasp, fingers clawing at the couch as you attempt to grasp anything to try and anchor you.

He leans over you, chest against your back, teeth grazing your shoulder as he growls low in your ear, “Take it. You can handle it.” His pace doesn’t falter, hard, relentless strokes that make the couch creak beneath you. The wet sound of his cock driving into your cunt fills the room, obscene and loud.

Colt moves closer, kneeling beside the couch so he’s at eye level with you. His hand strokes your hair tenderly, contrasting sharply with Driver’s rough pounding. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he praises softly, voice warm and soothing. He kisses your temple, your cheek, your parted lips. “Look at you taking him so well… so fucking pretty when you’re getting wrecked like this.”

Driver’s grip tightens. He straightens up again, slamming into you harder, one hand fisting in your hair to arch your back. Every thrust hits deep, brutal, and perfect. The intensity makes your legs shake, pleasure bordering on too much as he uses you exactly how he wants. Each brutal thrust rocks you harder against the arm of the couch, your moans turning into broken, desperate sounds. His gloved hand leaves your hip, only to come down hard on your ass with a sharp, resounding smack.

The sting blooms hot across your skin. You cry out, clenching around his thick cock.

“Again,” Driver growls, voice dark and commanding. Another hard slap lands on the same spot, then the other cheek, the impact sharp enough to make your eyes water even as pleasure spikes through you. “That’s it. Squeeze my cock just like that.”

Colt’s hand gently cups your jaw, turning your face toward him. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers tenderly before capturing your mouth in a slow, deep kiss. His lips are soft and reassuring, tongue sliding against yours in sweet contrast to the way Driver is pounding into you from behind. Every time Driver’s hips slam forward, Colt swallows the resulting moan, kissing you like he’s trying to ground you in the middle of the storm.

Driver’s hand slides up your back, over your shoulder, and wraps firmly around the front of your throat. He doesn’t hesitate as he squeezes, cutting off just enough air to make your head spin while he keeps fucking you. The leather of his glove feels cool and unforgiving against your heated skin.

Colt pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re so fucking good for him… taking everything he gives you.” His thumb strokes your cheek lovingly as Driver’s hand stays locked around your throat. “Let go, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

Driver’s pace turns even more savage, hips snapping against your ass with wet, filthy sounds. He keeps one hand choking you while the other delivers another sharp slap to your already stinging skin. The combination of Driver’s rough thrusts and Colt’s soft kisses has you trembling, pleasure coiling tight and vicious in your core.

Driver leans in close, lips brushing your ear as his grip on your throat tightens just a little more. “You’re gonna cum like this,” he states, not asking. “Right on my cock while I fuck you."

You nod quickly, desperately wanting to be good and cum for him. It only takes him a few more hard thrusts and quick spanks before you're clenching around him. Whining as wave after wave of pleasure hits you as you finish around his cock.

Driver gives one final deep thrust before he stills, groaning low as he cums hard. He stays buried inside you for a few seconds, hand losing his grip around your throat, before slowly pulling out. You’re left shaking, bent over the arm of the couch, thighs slick and trembling as his cum slowly drips out of you.

They give you a short moment to breathe.

Colt gently pulls you up and turns you around, kissing you softly as he sits back in the middle of the couch. His cock is hard, flushed and ready as he shoves his pants down a little with one hand before settling his hands onto your hips.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he says tenderly, guiding you onto his lap. “You’re tired. Let me do the work.”

He helps you straddle him, hands supporting your weight as he slowly sinks you down onto his cock. You both moan as he fills you, thick, warm, and gentler than Driver’s brutal pace. Once he’s fully inside, Colt keeps his hands on your hips, rocking you in slow, controlled movements so you don’t have to use your exhausted legs.

•He's quiet, but not silent. Every order is low, measured and absolute. "Open your legs. Wider." "Look at me." The rare time he says your name it feels like a reward.

•Demanding as hell. He sets the pace, the angle, how long you're allowed to touch him. If you try to rush or take control he'll pin you wrists above your head with one hand and remind you exactly who's in charge. Using slow, deliberate thrusts that make you feel every inch of his lesson.

•He's still extremely sweet. Between commands he presses soft kisses to your temple, your throat, the corner of your mouth. Checks in with a quiet, "Color?" even when his hand is tight around your throat. If you whisper "green" he'll kiss you deeper. So proud of his sweet baby for knowing their limits and being vocal about it.

•Lovesssss eye contact. If you look away he'll stop moving until you meet his eye contact again. Those pale eyes staying locked on yours while he fucks you, watching every flicker of pleasure and discomfort, watching for every little different tell your body gives him.

•Punishment is calm, never angry. You cum without permission? He pulls out, sits back and makes you watch as he strokes himself. (if you've been particularly bratty he'll cum on your stomach) "You don't get to cum until I say you can, Understand?" You'll be a shaking, begging mess before he finally lets you have it again.

•Aftercare is wordless but thorough. He gathers you on his chest, one big hand stroking down your spine, the other hand cradling the back of your neck. Sometimes he'll hum low in his throat, almost too quietly to hear, while he presses kisses to every bite, hickey and handprints he left on you.

•He doesn't do quickies often, but when he does it's usually in the driver seat of his car after a job, your bottoms shoved off haphazardly, his teeth on your shoulder while he fucks you hard and fast. Usually more aggressive in these situations.

•He secretly gets off on how small and safe you feel under him. He'll wrap his arms around you completely, caging you in, murmuring against your ear, "I've got you. Just take it for me." When you've been especially good he lets you ride him, but only with his hands clamped on your hips, guiding every roll and grind of your hips. He watches you fall apart with that faint, ghost of a smile that makes your chest ache.

“Well, fuck me,” he drawled, that crooked, boyish grin spreading across his face. “There’s my favorite girl. C’mere, sweetheart. Daddy’s been thinking about that pretty pussy all day.”

He didn’t wait for you to come to him. Holland grabbed your wrist and yanked you between his spread thighs, setting his glass aside so both hands could roam. He palmed your ass greedily, squeezing hard through your clothes before sliding one hand up to grope your tits.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, burying his face between your breasts, breathing in like he was addicted. “I bet you smell so fucking good. Bet you’re already wet for me, aren’t you? Little slut couldn’t wait to get over here and get fucked.”

His fingers made quick work of your clothes, shoving your skirt up around your waist and tugging your panties down just enough. He pushed two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep as he laughed low and dirty against your neck.

“Fuck yeah. Soaking wet. You been thinking about my cock, baby? Been walking around all day with this tight little cunt throbbing for me?”

He pumped his fingers fast and sloppy, thumb rubbing messy circles over your clit while his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard. Holland March was a shameless pervert, and he never tried to hide it.

“On the bed. Hands and knees. Let me see that ass up in the air.”

The second you obeyed, he was behind you, shoving his slacks down just far enough to free his thick, leaking cock. He rubbed the head up and down your slick folds, teasing your entrance, smearing his pre-cum all over you.

“Beg for it,” he whispered hotly against your ear, voice rough. “Tell me how bad you need daddy to wreck your pretty pussy.”

When you gave him what he wanted, he let out that bright, unhinged laugh and pushed inside you in one long, greedy thrust. The stretch made you gasp. Holland moaned loud, no shame at all, hips stuttering as he bottomed out.

“Jesus Christ, that’s tight. Best fucking pussy I’ve ever had.” He gripped your hips hard and started fucking you with deep, erratic strokes. “Listen to how wet you are. You love this, don’t you? Love letting me use you like a cheap whore.”

One of his hands snaked around to rub your clit while the other fisted your hair, pulling your head back so he could growl filthy things right against your ear.

“I was jerking off in my office earlier thinking about this. Picturing you bent over my desk, skirt up, moaning my name while I pumped you full. I’m a fucking pervert for you, baby. Can’t get enough of this cunt.”

His pace was relentless, messy, greedy, and completely uncontrolled. Every thrust slapped against your ass, the sound obscene in the quiet apartment. He kept talking the whole time, voice growing rougher.

“Gonna fill you up until you’re dripping down your thighs. Maybe I’ll make you keep my cum inside you when you leave. Walk around all night feeling me leak out of you like the dirty girl you are.”

He leaned over you, chest pressed to your back, one hand squeezing your breast while the other worked your clit faster. His hips snapped harder, losing rhythm as he got close.

“Come on, sweetheart. Come on my cock. Let me feel this tight pussy squeeze me.”

You fell apart with a cry, clenching around him. Holland groaned loudly, burying himself deep as he came hard, pulsing inside you with every thick spurt.

“Fuck… take it. Take every drop, baby.”

He stayed buried inside you afterward, collapsing half on top of you, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and the back of your neck. His hand slid down between your legs, possessively cupping your soaked pussy, keeping his cum from spilling out.

“Goddamn, I’m keeping you,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and satisfied. “Best piece of ass in L.A. My dirty little secret.”

He gave a lazy thrust, already starting to harden again inside you.

“Ten minutes,” he whispered, nipping at your ear. “Then I’m flipping you over and fucking those pretty tits before I fill you up all over again. Sound good, sweetheart?”

One night the power went out during a storm. Colt showed up at your door with a flashlight and that lazy smirk, wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants. Twenty minutes later the lights were still off, but you were on your back across the dining table with Colt between your thighs.

He fucked like he performed stunts, confident, a little reckless, and in total control. Strong hands gripped your hips, holding you right where he wanted as he sank into you with one smooth, deep thrust that made your back arch off the table. Every roll of his hips was deliberate, powerful, the kind of rhythm that had you gasping his name like a prayer.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned against your neck, voice rough and warm. He kissed you like he was starving for it, messy, hungry, smiling into your mouth every time you moaned louder. One hand slid between you, thumb circling your clit with devastating precision until your legs started shaking around his waist.

He didn’t just take. Colt worshipped. His mouth on your tits, teeth grazing your throat, whispering filthy praise between thrusts. “That’s it, baby… let me hear you. Sound so pretty when you’re falling apart for me.”

By the time the power came back on, you were boneless, marked up with beard burns and love bites, while Colt lounged beside you like he’d just pulled off the best stunt of his career. He pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder and murmured against your skin,