#p with plot

The bedroom was warm with late afternoon light, gold pouring through the gauzy curtains, and you'd had the house to yourself for hours. It wasn't often that all of the Jackson's were out at once.

Michael was working on something with Tito at a studio in the city, and he'd left you that morning with a slow, promisin’, sexually driven kiss against the doorframe; the heat of it had trailed you around all day like a hand, possessive, at the small of your back. It was infuriatingly annoying and it was riling you up.

By mid-afternoon you'd given up pretending to read your books. There was no patience for dense college textbooks. You'd read all you could take, but they were no longer serving as a distraction to your impending horniness.

You'd crept up to Michael's bedroom and fished the little pink vibrator out of your bag; a gift from your girlfriend weeks ago, after a conversation centered around 'spicing' it up in the bedroom. she pressed into your hands with a wicked grin and a: 

trust me, you'll thank me. 

Now you were sprawled across his pillows with your sweatshirt rucked up, chasing the ache he'd left you with, the low buzz of it lost under the record still spinning lazily on his turntable; Love Rollercoaster, loud and woozy in the glimmering afternoon light.

Thank god for new technology.

You were close. So close to it. You were almost sprinting after it deliciously, the music a backdrop of how you were feeling, building with intensity.

The song had warped into something dizzy and psychedelic, swelling in time with the heat low in your belly, and you pressed the buzzing toy harder against yourself, sprinting for the finishline.

Your head was full to the brim of him; his veiny hands, his wet, hot mouth, the weight of him on top of you, the way his rounded innocent eyes peered up over your pubic bone whilst he ate you out, the feeling of your hips rolling up into the line of his cock in his slacks on the couch, the sound of his breath coming fast and ragged whilst he neared his—

You didn't hear the car. You didn't hear the front door either.

You heard nothing until the bedroom door swung open and Michael walked in blazenly, peeling off his jacket, mid-sentence, totally distracted.

"—and Tito kept sayin' the bassline was fine but it was draggin', I could feel it draggin' the whole—"

You scrambled.

In one frantic, graceless motion you jammed the vibrator under the nearest pillow—that ridiculous Alice in Wonderland caterpillar cushion Michael adored—yanked your sweatshirt down to something less incriminating, and sat bolt upright against the headboard covering your naked bottom half with the duvet, heart slamming, face on fire.

"Hi!" you said, far too brightly.

Michael stopped. Blinked. He looked wrung out, curls sort of flat on top where the headphones had pressed against, dark smudges under his eyes where he'd messily drawn on his eyeliner; but something in him clicked the second he really looked at you.

"...Hi," he said slowly.

"How's the track?"

"A bit nonsensical, I guess." His eyes hadn't left your face, and you knew exactly what he was clocking: the flush down your throat, the sheen on your lip, your chest still going too fast.

He saw everything. He always did. "You okay? You're all—" He gestured at the entirety of you. "Red and sweaty."

"Well, uh, it's hot in here."

"It's really not that hot in here, Mother has the heat off because of the weather." He stared at you for a moment longer and then sighed dramatically.

He was clearly too tired to chase the reasoning as to why you seemed to be lying. He crossed to the bed with a low groan, toeing off his loafers.

"God, I'm wrecked. Eight hours arguin' with my brother about one silly line of sheet music." He flopped face-first across the mattress beside you, sighing into the duvet like he was lowering himself into his grave.

"Don't talk to me. Don't look at me. Tito has wiped me out. He really did it this time."

You bit down on a slightly hysterical laugh, painfully aware of the small hard shape buried in the bedding inches from his hands. "Poor baby."

"Mm." He stretched then, luxuriously, the way he always did—arms flung up over his head, hands sliding up under the pillows, his whole long body arching out with a contented little sound—

And his fingers closed around something.

He went still.

You stopped breathing.

"...What's this," he mumbled into the duvet, eyes still shut, his hand pawing at it. He dragged it out from under the pillow and lifted his head to squint; small, pink, smooth, faintly ridiculous in his long fingers. He turned it over and frowned. "What is this? Is this one of those gadgets—"

His thumb found the button.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzt.

The thing roared to life in his hand and he startled so hard he nearly flung it across the room, jerking up onto one elbow.

"Oh."

The single syllable hung there. You watched the realisation land on his face; the buzzing toy, your scarlet face, the rucked-up sweatshirt, the way you'd been sitting up bright-eyed and breathless when he walked in… every piece clicking into place at once behind his eyes.

His gaze lifted to yours. Very, very slowly.

"...Oh," he said again. Completely different. Low. Almost delighted??

A grin breaking across his exhausted face, the studio forgotten, all that quiet knowing focus kindling. He let it keep buzzing in his hand just to watch you squirm.

"You were busy," he said, "while I was gone."

"Michael—give it back—"

"What even is this?" He held it up out of your reach, examining it like he'd unearthed an ancient relic, fascinated and perturbed in equal measure. "I have never ever—where'd you even get this?"

"My friend gave it to me, okay, it doesn't matter—"

"Your friend..." He turned it over, thumbing it off and back on, jumping a little each time it buzzed. And then; because he was, underneath it all, just a guy, he brought it to his nose and sniffed it.

"MICHAEL."

"What!" He reared back, blinking, like he'd done something perfectly reasonable. "I wanted to know if—"

"Why would you smell it—"

"I don't know!" He was laughing now, scandalized at his own hand. "It's instinct! You see a thing, you wanna know—I wasn't thinkin'—"

You lunged for it; but he held it up out of reach, and then you were both gone with laughter, helpless, you behind your hands and him snorting into the pillow, the awful mortified tension breaking apart into something warm and giddy, the way it always did with the two of you. You could laugh in the middle of anything.

"Okay—okay—" He wiped his eyes, still chuckling, and thumbed it off. The sudden silence was louder than the buzz had been. The record was now scratching repeatedly on the plastic label.

He set the small bullet on the nightstand, deliberately, out of your reach, and turned the full weight of that focus back on you, all the tiredness burned clean out of him. "Very chill. Very normal. Nothin' to see here."

"Don't start," you warned, fighting a grin.

"You missed me that much, hm?" His voice had dropped now, gone soft and velvet, that teasing dark thread winding through it as he started crawling toward you across the bed, slow, all liquid grace, backing you gently into the headboard. His hand came to rest high on your thigh, thumb stroking. "Couldn't even wait for me to get home."

"You left me like that this morning," you accused, breathless, your laugh going unsteady. "Kissin' me like that and then just— leaving. What was I supposed to do?"

"Mm. I did do that, didn't I?" He didn't sound remotely sorry. He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath warm, his exhaustion transmuted entirely into something low and hungry.

"So tell me, baby. Did you finish? Before I walked in?" His teeth grazed your jaw. "Or did I get home right in time?"

You couldn't answer. Your face answered for you.

A slow, knowing smile appeared on his face. "You didn't." He pulled back just enough to look at you, and the grin he gave you was pure wicked warmth.

"You got yourself all worked up with your little pink toy... and you didn't even get to finish," he said in mock horror.

"...No," you admitted, mortified and molten in equal measure.

"That's a shame, baby." He kissed the corner of your mouth, slow, his hand sliding higher, his thumb tracing the crease of your hip. "All that. And nothin' to show for it." His mouth moved to your throat, where your pulse was hammering. "Lucky for you I'm home now."

He kissed you then, and it wasn't with the claiming heat of some nights you'd shared together, but something slower, fonder, a smile still pressed into it, his tongue licking warm into your mouth as his weight settled over you and eased you back against the pillows.

You melted into it, your hands finding the hem of his t-shirt, sliding up the warm plane of his stomach—but he caught your wrists, gentle, and pressed them back to the pillows with a soft tut.

"Nuh-uh. Not yet." His grin was wicked. "You don't get to touch yet. You had your fun without me—now it's my turn."

"That's not fair—"

"Mm. Life's not fair, m'girl." He worked your sweatshirt up your body, his knuckles dragging over your ribs, baring you to the gold afternoon light, and the teasing softened into something rawer, his thumb skating the underside of your breast. "Look at you. Already all flushed up for me and I barely touched you."

"That's your fault—"

"you got yourself into this mess" He dipped his head, his mouth closing hot over your nipple, and your back arched off the bed. "Mm. I'm gonna fix it. Gonna take real good care of you. Make up for leavin' you all day." His hand slid down your stomach, down between your thighs, and the first brush of his fingers through how wet you already were drew a groan out of him, low and undone, his forehead dropping to your collarbone.

"God. Y/N. You're soaked."

"I told you—"

"I know. I know you did." His fingers slid through you, slow, finding the slick aching heart of you, circling, and your hips chased his hand helplessly.

"And you tried to hide what you'd been doing, too." He clicked his tongue, mock-scolding, his mouth curving against your skin. "We don't hide things in this house."

"Michael—" you gasped, as two of his fingers sank into you, his palm grinding against your clit, picking up right where you'd been left aching.

"I've got you, m'love," he breathed, his rhythm slow and sure and devastating, watching your face come apart with that dark, rapt focus.

"Got you now. You can finish for me this time." A soft, wicked grin. "Much better than that little pink thing, hm?"

He worked you slow, watching every flicker of pleasure cross your face, his fingers curling into that spot that made your hips jump while his thumb kept a lazy, maddening circle.

You were squirming, already close again; you'd been close for hours at this point—and he knew it, the little wretch, watching you climb and deliberately not letting you get there.

"You're doin' that on purpose," you panted.

"Doin' what?" All innocence, his mouth twitching against your skin where he was trying to pepper kisses along your neck.

"You know what—"

"I'm just bein' thorough." He lowered himself and pressed a kiss to your sternum, grinning against your skin. "I had a long day. I gotta concentrate on what I'm doing." And he eased off again, right as you tipped toward the edge, until you made a sound of pure outraged frustration and smacked his shoulder, and he laughed, totally elated, that bright real laugh, catching your wrist and pinning it gently to the pillow.

"Okay, okay," he relented, eyes dancing. Then a thought visibly arrived behind them, wicked and curious, and his gaze slid over to the nightstand. "...Hold on."

"Michael—"

"No, no, I wanna—" He reached over and plucked the vibrator up again, turning it in his fingers, that concentrated frown back on his face like he was studying a piece of equipment in the studio.

"Show me how you had it. When I came in. Where were you—" he thumbed it on, the buzz filling the room, and grinned at his own daring— "puttin' this?"

You buried your face in your hands. "I'm not—oh my God—"

"C'mon. Show me what you were tryna hide from me." He was laughing now, nudging your knee wider with his own, the toy humming in his hand. "I'm nosey, remember? I gotta know what I'm competin' with."

"You are not competing with it—"

"No?" He pressed it, soft, right where you needed it, and your whole body jolted, a cry breaking out of you. His grin went molten.

"Hm. There?" He circled it, watching you arch and grab fistfuls of the duvet, his own breath catching at the sight of you. "Oh, you like that. Look at you, baby. Okay. Okay, I see. I'm learnin'."

He was good at it, the teasing... that was the infuriating thing; of course he was, he was good at everything. he set that focus on reading you, easing the vibration against you and pulling it back, his face inches from yours so he could watch, his free hand pinning your arm to the bed so you couldn't intervene.

You were a mess, gasping, hips chasing it, and he was loving every second, soft little encouragements falling out of him;

that's it, there you go, let me see, you're so pretty like this

"Michael, I'm gonna—if you don't—pull it away—" you choked.

"I know. I know, baby, I've got you—" And this time he didn't pull back. He held it steady, his mouth on your throat, and you came apart with a cry, shaking, your hand flying to grip his wrist as it crashed through you. He worked you through it, gentling, murmuring into your skin, until your body felt like jelly and you were trembling against the pillows.

He clicked it off and set it back on the nightstand. Kissed your slack mouth, smug and tender at once. "There she is. M'beautiful dirty girl."

"I hate you," you breathed, with absolutely no conviction.

"Mm. You love me." He was still hard against your thigh through the blue denim, his own breath uneven despite all his composure. He pushed himself up off you and rose to stand beside the bed, looking down at the wreck of you; sweatshirt rucked up under your arms, skin flushed and gleaming, completely bare from the waist down, while he stood over you still dressed, disheveled, curls wild, eyeliner smudged. The contrast made you squirm.

"All day," he murmured, his fingers going to buttons of his white shirt, pulling it off in one smooth motion to bare the lean plane of his stomach, the dark trail of hair below his navel and the little patches of white skin at his hip bones.

"I been thinkin' about you all day. Arguin' with Tito over one stupid line and the whole time I'm picturin' gettin' home to you." The belt came next, the metallic clink of it coming loose, then the button of his jeans. "And I walk in and find you already started without me."

"You left me like that—"

"I know I did." He shoved his jeans and briefs down and stepped out of them, unhurried, without a trace of self-consciousness, fully bare now and achingly hard while you were still half-tangled in your sweatshirt. He was magnificent, all long lines and elegant tension, the tip of him flushed dark pink.

"Lucky for you I'm home now. No more waitin'."

He leaned over the bed, his hands sliding under your hips, and dragged you bodily to the edge of the mattress until your ass was just off the side. He stepped between your splayed thighs, his hands rough and warm on the insides of your knees, pushing them wider.

"No more toys," he muttered, his eyes locked on where you were open and wet for him.

He grabbed his dick firmly and guided himself to your entrance and pushed in, slowly, so slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as your heat enveloped him. It was a deep, stretching, filling sensation that had you arching off the bed, a low moan dragged from your chest.

"That's what you needed," he breathed, sinking to the hilt and holding there, his head dropping forward.

He began to move then, with a rhythm all his own, not too eager, but devastatingly deliberate. Long, deep, rolling thrusts that struck something deep inside you on every stroke. His hands were on your hips, controlling the pace, holding you open for him. Deep, thundering thrusts.

"You feel that?" he grunted, his breath hot. "That's real. That's me."

You could only nod, your fingers scrambling against his sweat-slick back, your legs hooking around his waist to pull him deeper. He was everywhere, his scent, his weight, the sound of his skin against yours, the ragged puff of his breath.

But Michael's curiosity was a retched thing at times. It never switched off.

Halfway through a deep, grinding stroke, he stopped. His eyes, squeezed shut in concentration a second ago, snapped open; dark, hazy with pleasure, but a familiar glittering curiosity cutting clean through the fog.

His gaze darted sideways, landing on the pink vibrator where it still lay on the nightstand.

A slow, almost reluctant grin touched his swollen lips.

"Hold on," he rasped.

He pulled out of you abruptly, the sudden emptiness a shock. Before you could protest, he'd reached over and snatched the toy up. He stared at it in his hand, then at you, then at his own painfully hard cock, glistening with your wetness.

"I gotta know," he said, as if apologizing to himself. "Just… once. To see what all the fuss is about."

He thumbed the button.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzt.

He didn't hesitate. He pressed the buzzing head directly against the sensitive spot just under the swollen head of his cock.

The reaction was immediate and violent.

His whole body jerked as if electrocuted. A shocked, strangled sound—half-gasp, half-yelp—ripped from his throat. His knees buckled, and he had to throw a hand out to catch himself on the nightstand, knocking the lamp sideways. His head dropped forward, a shudder wracking his spine.

"Oh—Jesus—" he choked out.

He tried to drag it down the shaft, but his hand was trembling violently. The vibration was clearly too intense, too direct, overwhelming a body already wound past its limit from being inside you.

His hips began to stutter in tiny, frantic circles, completely involuntary. His breath came in ragged, punched-out pants.

"Too—GOD—it's too much—" he gasped, but he didn't let go. His curiosity was warring with sensory overload, and curiosity was losing.

His movements became jerky, uncoordinated. you witnessed a fine tremor run through his thighs. He was biting his lip so hard you thought he might draw blood, his eyes squeezed shut, his face a mask of agonized, over-the-edge pleasure. You'd seen him feel good so many times before, but this was borderline painfully pleasurable.

He was hovering on the brink, his body taut as a bowstring, controlled solely by the relentless, alien buzz of the vibrator. You could see the exact moment his control shattered.

His hand spasmed around the toy, holding it tight against him as his hips gave three sharp, abortive thrusts into the empty air above you.

"uhmhh—" The warning was a breathless, desperate unintelligible plea, but it was too late, he couldn't come back from it.

With a gut-deep groan that sounded pained, his body convulsed. \

He spilled in thick, hot pulses across your stomach and the rucked-up fabric of your sweatshirt, completely undone by it. His eyes had opened at that point, watching the ordeal happen in front of him, watching you and the shock at his premature release..

The vibrator fell from his limp hand, vibrating pointlessly against the carpet as he collapsed forward, catching himself on his forearms beside resting arms, his entire body trembling with the aftershocks.

He was panting, wrecked, his forehead pressed to the duvet beside you. A long moment of stunned silence hung in the room, broken only by the record scratching and the distant hum of the fallen toy.

You looked down at the mess cooling on your skin, then back at his bowed head. A slow, triumphant smile spread across your face.

"You," you said, your voice dripping with smug satisfaction, "are dead meat for that, Jackson."

He groaned, the sound muffled by the bedding. He didn't lift his head. "Shut up," he mumbled, utterly defeated. "It was a.... curious... inquiry."

"You inquired yourself right into an accidental finish," you teased, poking his heaving shoulder.

He finally lifted his head. His face was flushed, his eyes dazed and more than a little embarrassed, but a reluctant grin was tugging at his mouth. He glanced at the mess on you, then back at your face, his grin turning wicked. "Yeah, well." He glanced down again. "Looks like my curiosity made a mess of you, too."

He leaned in, his intent clear, and you laughed, kissing him lovingly on the mouth.

< back to masterlist

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You were put behind the bar tonight next to Katsuki and of course, there was a bachelorette party.

"I swear, these bachelorette parties get wilder every year." He said as he mixed up some vodka cranberries.

"Yeah but hey, at least they tip good." You replied, using one hand to shake up a round of wet pussies while lining up 6 shot glasses along the bar. You flip the lid of the cocktail shaker and use is to expertly pour the shots. "Alright ladies! Your wet pussies, have fun!" You give a shot to each of the girls and they cheer as they drink them.

You retrieve the glasses and began wiping them as the girls headed to the dance floor.

"I wonder how people came up with those names." Katsuki says, now pouring a Guinness while a drunken Irishman stared him down intently.

"THAT'S A SHITE POUR!" The man yells.

"It's the best you're getting!"

"Y'CAN'T EVEN SPLIT THE G ON THIS ONE!"

"Then don't! Not my problem!" Katsuki raises his arm to get security's attention, clicking and pointing at the dude.

The hunky himbo of a security guard, Eijiro, with his moko proudly displayed on his arm, approached the bar.

"Get this idiot outta here." Katsuki shook his head, shamelessly pouring the Guinness down the sink just to spite the Irishman.

"Sure thing bro!" Eijiro firmly gripped the dude's shoulders and carried him out of the club, not even bothered by the thrashing.

"So you were saying about drink names?" You continued the conversation.

"They're weird," He spat. "I mean who looks at a drink and decides to call it a "wet pussy", that's brain rot if I've ever seen it."

"I mean it's pink and wet what more could you want?"

"Now you're just being a pervert."

You laughed and turned to lean back against the bar.

"Ever heard of a blowjob shot?"

"A what?"

"Blowjob shot," You repeated as you listed the spirits on your fingers. "amaretto, Irish cream and then you top it with whipped cream."

Katsuki shrugged.

"Still don't get why it's called a blowjob shot."

"Because you're supposed to have your hands behind your back and then get the glass with your lips and tip it back." You jerked your head back to emphasise your point. "I'll give you one sometime."

Katsuki flushed hard but still attempted to remain cocky, shooting you a half assed smirk.

"A blowjob?"

"A shot!" You playfully punched his shoulder. You have always though Katsuki was a fine piece of man, I mean look at the guy, and he was also a nice dude...to an extent. I mean, he has beef with 3 of the 5 line cooks and is yelling at Denki every two minutes but he was nice enough to you.

"I wouldn't mind either way." He teased, voice a little wavery.

"Are you flirting with me, Katsuki Bakugo?" You questioned sarcastically, at least hoping it was a little bit true.

"I'll leave that for you to decide."

You laughed and turned to walk off.

"I'm gonna grab some more ice!"

"Aight!"

You headed around the back of the bar and down the stairs to the basement to the ice machine where there was an unmistakable smell of weed. Only two idiots were dumb enough to smoke on company time and only one of them was rostered.

"Denki get your ass out here!" You called and heard a loud cough from behind the ice machine. "Dammit now I'm gonna smell like weird and Nemuri's gonna fire me."

"Nah you're fine, she lets me smoke just as long as I give her some."

You couldn't even be mad anymore, you just shrugged and grabbed the ice bucket.

"Make yourself useful, we're out of ice upstairs."

"Nah I'm good."

"Fuck you mean "nah I'm good"?!"

"It means nah I'm good."

Your expression went blank.

"You're helping, get a bucket."

He groaned and grabbed an ice bucket.

Finally you got back up the stairs with Denki in tow, eyes red from marijuana. Katsuki looked away from his glass for a moment to spot the red eyed freak.

"Jesus Christ Denki," He sighed. "You can smoke as much as you want off site but for the love of God, do your fucking job."

Mina walked over with empty glasses stacked over her shoulder, carrying them behind the bar and setting them on the bench. She sighed as she flipped her pink goddess braids back over her head with her arm.

"These ladies sure do drink a lot." She chuckled with exasperation.

"You should see how many wet pussy's they've drinken." Katsuki said, mocking the name of the drink.

"Ew, they taste like medicine." Mina replies before looking over at Denki. "Oh shit is he high again?"

"What does it look like?" You said, dumping the ice from the buckets into the ice bins.

"It looks like this idiot took my offer too seriously." The deep, naturally sultry voice of Nemuri said as she approached the bar.

"You'd probably have to be more specific with this one," Katsuki said, fetching a bottle of top shelf whiskey. "you ask him to jump off a cliff, he asks if he should do a flip."

"Ooh~ Top shelf! Someone's getting tipped good tonight!" Mina said.

"Depends how well he pours." The wealthy customer said, watching him intently like the Irishman.

"Well don't ask him to pour a Guinness then." You muttered and Katsuki shot you a look.

The man laughed and gestured to you.

"Listen to her! Pretty girls behind the bar usually know what they're doing." Katsuki's eyes narrowed as he placed an ice sphere in the whiskey glass and effortlessly poured the amber liquid into it with a flick of his wrist. "Good man!" The man took the glass, placed a hefty bill into his tip jar and headed over to yours. He shoved a bill into the opening and gave you a wink.

Katsuki's blood boiled.

Who does this asshole think he is?

He thought to himself as he cleaned one of the glasses Mina had brought over, not realising how tightly he was squeezing it and only realising it was shattered when Nemuri spoke up.

"Someone's in a mood."

He ignored her and turned to you.

"Why'd he tip you? You didn't even do anything." He scoffed. Your nose wrinkled in confusion and defense.

"Maybe because I'm young and hot and just way better at my job than you are." You shot back and he rolled his eyes.

What's his problem?

...

It was 3 am and you were finally being cut along with Katsuki. You got the train to work that evening so you began heading back to the train station. Saying bye to Eijiro, still posted at the front door, you began your commute. You hadn't spoken to Katsuki in the last hours of your shift since you were known to hold a grudge against those who question your work ethic.

"Oi!" You heard him call. "You need a ride?!"

"I don't need a ride! Let alone from you of all people!" You called back and kept walking. Heavy footsteps approached you and a hand was placed on your shoulder.

"Come on, it's too late for you to catch the train by yourself."

"I'm 25 I can catch the train."

"Yeah, but you're also young and hot."

You rolled your eyes as he echoed your previous statement.

"Is that your way of apologising?"

He shrugged.

"Sorta."

"Ok dude."

Katsuki sighed.

"Sorry I said you weren't doing anything, it wasn't cool. Also I'm pretty sure that dude was a creep."

You shrugged.

"I guess that's better," You sighed and walked past him. "Alright, where's your ride?"

...

The car ride was fairly silent but the tension was thick. REALLY thick. So thick it was like cutting through cold butter with a cold knife.

But if there was one thing...

One thing at all...

He wanted to that BJ.

"So...I wasn't entirely joking about the whole blowjob shot...thing." He said out of nowhere.

You almost jolted at the sound of his voice but you did turn around with confusion.

"You mean the shot thing?"

"Yeah I uh...wasn't joking, like at all." He kept his eyes on the road to avoid even looking at you.

"Like you really want me to give you a blowjob?"

"Forget I said anything."

You turned back to look out the window.

"You can forget about dropping me home."

"Shit...look I'm sorry that's probably an HR violation-"

"Take me to yours."

This time he looked straight at you as he kept driving.

"I'm sorry what?"

"You heard me."

Katsuki probably went at least 10 km over the speed limit to reach his apartment complex. He parked in the underground space and you took the elevator up to his floor.

Let's just say the elevator wasn't the only thing going up.

The moment he opened the door, you led him to the couch, kicking the door shut behind you with your docs. You sat him down, and knelt in front of him.

He never expected you to be the type to take charge like this and he wasn't entirely mad about it.

"Shit Y/n..." He said breathlessly as you forced his knees apart, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

You unhooked his black dress pants and the zipper slid down the bulge straining against it. You pulled the elastic of his grey boxers, freeing his hard length.

If you opened a dictionary and looked up the word dick, you'd get a whole page dedicated to a photo of Katsuki's penis. Perfect length, perfect girth, perfect pink tip.

"You're cock should be on the cover of a magazine." You said and he rolled his eyes.

"If you weren't about to suck me off, that would've killed any boner I had." Katsuki replied.

"Best get to it then." You pressed the tip of your tongue to the base of his shaft, licking a stripe up the ridge.

"Oh fuck..." He sighed as your lips sunk down on him. Katsuki through his head back as he let out shaky breaths. His hand found the back of your head, not to push you down but to feel your soft, slightly greasy hair against his fingers.

Your tongue swirled around the tip before bobbing down again. Your hand stroked the parts your mouth couldn't reach.

Even after just a few minutes, Katsuki was close. He was desperately trying to hold it in but you were just too good. He pulled your head off his dick as he came, hissing through his teeth. Ropes of white cum streaked across your face.

"Shit, sorry..." He muttered, standing up, heading to the kitchen and running a cloth under warm water before wringing it out. He brought it back and held you under your chin to clean up his mess. As he cleaned the cum off your mouth, running his thumb along your bottom lip, he couldn't help but give into the urges he was feeling and neither could you.

Your lips met in a passionate kiss, tongues slipping in and out of eachothers mouths as he scooped you up under your thighs and carried you to his bedroom.

Laying you on his bed, he pried your docs off and moved in between your legs.

"Just returning the favour..." He whispered into your ear before kneeling in front of the bed and unhooking your dress pants. Unzipping the fly, he pulled off the pants and your panties in one swift movement, revealing your neatly trimmed cunt.

Between rent, utilities and student loan payments, you didn't exactly have the time or money for a wax and you were one of those girls that refused to shave so trimming was the best you could do.

Katsuki didn't mind one bit as he rubbed his thumb over your slick folds.

"I see why they call a wet pussy now," He dipped his head lower. "I just hope this one doesn't taste like medicine."

Katsuki's lips made contact with yours and he spread your folds and really got in there. Every lick, lap, and stroke of his tongue made you shiver, moan, and whimper as he hit every right spot.

"Ah-...'Tsuki-!" You moaned, gripping the bed sheets as he savoured your cunt.

"So fucking good..." He muttered between slurps of pussy, holding your thighs over his shoulders. "I fucking love it when you say my name like that..."

His thumb began rubbing your clit in tight circles as his tongue pressed against that spongey spot inside you. The pleasure made your walls contract and clench around his tongue.

"Tsuki!" You arched into him as you felt yourself about to burst.

"That's it pretty girl..."

Your hips bucked into his mouth as you climaxed, your juices flooding his senses. Katsuki pulled back and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, staring down at the mess he made.

"Definitely tastes a lot better than a shot," He crawled over you, kneeling on either side of your hips. "You wanna go all the way?"

You nodded breathlessly, tangling you fingers in his ashy blond hair to bring him down for a kiss as your either hand fiddled with his shirt buttons and your feet kicked off his pants.

He rolled over and sat you on his lap, cock pressed against your pelvis, undoing your shirt buttons effortlessly and sliding it off your shoulders, revealing the comfortable cotton bra you were wearing.

"Fuck...How often do people tell you how beautiful you are?" He sat up with you still on his lap. "Not "pretty", not "hot", not "sexy", beautiful."

You shook your head and continued to undo his buttons.

"Rarely."

"Then you'll here it a lot more from me." Katsuki's hand found the back of your neck to hold it in place while he kissed and sucked at your throat. You let out small sounds as he reached certain spots. His other hand worked on your bra, pinching the clasp and letting it fall down your arms before you flicked it off the bed.

Your hips ground against his, wet pussy sliding over his erection.

"That needy huh?" He murmured against your neck.

"I really want you Katsuki..." You whined as a vein dragged against your clit.

"I need you too..." He released from your skin with an audible pop as he reached into his bedside table drawer. He pulled out a flat foil packet and tore it open with his fingers. You shuffled back, letting Katsuki roll the latex onto his length. "You wanna be on top?" He asked you, hands finding your hips.

"Yeah." You kneeled up and hovered your entrance above his tip.

"Alright, I can't fucking wait to have you around me..."

"Ok..." You nodded. "Ok... here I go..." You held onto his shoulders as you sunk onto his cock, your pussy stretching around him. "Oh-OH!"

"Fuck- are you okay?"

You nodded and rested your forehead against his shoulder.

"I just need a minute..."

"Take all the time you need." His hand held the back of your head as you breathed and moaned against his shoulder for a minute.

"Ok...ok I'm gonna move- now~" You moaned as you sunk fully onto his cock.

"Fuck Sweetie..." Katsuki through his head back against the headboard as you started to rock your hips, moaning into him. "Fuck...good girl..."

"Ah~ Tsuki~" You raised your hips with every rock, riding his perfect dick. You pushed up from his shoulders, mouth hanging open as sounds fell from it. His hands found your hips as he thrusted to match your movements. "Fuck~!"

"Fuck you feel so good~!" He rubbed his thumbs over your waist where you had three four pointed stars, like specs of light from an explosion, tattooed on each hip bone.

"Tsuki I'm close!" You called out and he grunted as he bucked into you.

"Fuck! Me too baby...!"

After a few more thrusts, you felt the condom expanding inside you, the strange but weirdly pleasurable sensation made you finish as well. Katsuki breathed deeply as he lifted you off his softening dick and took off the latex, tying it off and tossing it into the trash across the room.

You collapsed at his side, catching your breath.

"Fuck you were amazing..." He laid down and threw his forearm over his eyes, letting out a breathless chuckle. "How you feeling?"

"Like I just won the lottery." You returned the chuckle.

"Never knew you had tattoos." He said, turning to peak at you from under his arm.

"I guess they're in a place not a lot of people see."

"Am I the first to have seen them?" He asked with a small smirk.

"Well I haven't fucked since I got them so yeah, yeah you are."

"What an honour."

"It is an honour." You scooted closer to him, his right arm slipping under your head like a pillow. "You got any?"

"Yeah," He lifted his left arm to reveal a tattoo of the four suites lined up on his bicep. "I got it cause life's a gamble," He dropped his arm above his head and turned to look at you. "And you gotta take chances."

"Fuck that's good." You said like you were made you hadn't thought of it first.

"Why'd you get yours?"

"...I thought they looked cool."

"Jesus Christ Y/n..."

"But If I had to make up a reason..." You thought for a moment. "I guess it'd be to remind me to never lose my spark."

He smiled softly and used his left hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

"That's a good reason," His crimson eyes gazed into yours. "You're not rostered Saturday, right?"

"Nuh uh."

"Alright then, I'll take you on a date."

You propped yourself up on your elbow a little.

"Wait really?"

"Yeah," He shrugged. "I really like you and I want this to go somewhere."

You smiled and lay back down on his arm.

"I really like you too Katsuki."

He pulled the covers over the both of you.

"We cannot let anyone at work know about this." He laughed as he pulled you against his toned chest.

"Oh fuck no, they'd never let us live it down."

"Hehe..." He pressed a light kiss to your forehead. "Night Beautiful."

"Mm..." You were seconds away from drifting off. "Night Tsuki."

And with that, you both fell into a peaceful, post O slumber. No work noise, no jealous noise, just silence, perfect, blissful silence.

A/N

First smut kinda nervy😀. I've been mulling over this idea for a fic for about two minutes so it's mainly just horny brain vomit BUT TRUST IT WILL HAVE A PLOT IF YOU GUYS WANT MORE OF THIS!

I was also gonna include Aizawa in this chapter but I couldn't decide if he should be a bar frequenter or the head chef. LMK WHICH ONE YOU'D PREFER!!!

Helen took a sip of her wine to steady her nerves, trying to follow the conversation around the table. River had invited them to a party and what a party it was. They were in a bar at Luna University, filled with people of all shapes, sizes and colours. The air was sweet with the smell of exotic drinks and soft tunes of music carried through the lively chatter. It was a wondrous, exciting place and yet, all Helen could focus on was the sensation of Liv’s hand on her thigh, toying with the edge of her skirt.

While their hostess was fawning over the Doctor, who was utterly entranced by his future wife, the med-tech leaned in close.

“How much longer do you think before we can slip away without appearing rude?” She hummed and Helen could feel her breath on her neck. Liv moved her hand a little higher, to the inside of her thigh and the linguist was grateful for the cover of the table, as her breath hitched.

“I- I don’t know-” She wasn’t sure what to say. Her mind was becoming hazy, but she couldn’t be sure whether it was the two glasses of wine, or the effect her girlfriend’s advances had on her. She knew what she was implying. Liv had been patient with her, appreciating her lack of experience and the things she had yet to overcome through years of hiding away her feelings. But they had been romantically involved for a while now, and under the influence of alcohol, the med-tech had started making advances more blatantly than ever before. It wouldn’t be a bad night for it. No monsters to fight, good food and drink, and the TARDIS only a short walk away with the bedroom they shared.

And it wasn’t that Helen didn’t want to, she felt a physical draw to the woman beside her like nothing she had ever experienced before, but there was a lot to consider. All the things that had held her back were wiped from her mind, when Liv’s fingers skirted the top of her stockings. Helen released a shaky breath. The way her hips buckled forward of their own account told the linguist all she needed to know. She felt a tight pull in her gut and gripped her wine glass a little tighter. She could read her own body’s actions well enough, she didn’t want to deny Liv this - or herself for that matter. They had both waited long enough. What did it matter that it had been over twenty years since she’d-

Helen stalled her mind in its tracks and emptied her wine glass in one go. She wasn’t ready to talk about that yet. She was, however, ready to feel those things again with the woman she loved more than she could say. Beside her, Liv raised her eyebrows at her actions.

The linguist set her glass down and turned to her girlfriend who looked as though she wanted to say something, but wasn’t given the opportunity. Helen leaned in to kiss her, enjoying the tingling sensation of her hand on her thigh and the warmth of the alcohol, as she was already imagining what the rest of the evening might entail.

“I think I’m ready to get out of here,” she mumbled against her lips as she grabbed hold of her hand under her skirt and pushed it just that little bit higher still. Liv’s eyes widened in surprise, she didn’t manage words, she just nodded eagerly.

“Off so soon?” River cooed from across the table.

“I’ve come over quite tired,” Helen made her excuses but the professor just grinned.

“Well, I do hope you two have a good rest.”

“I’m sure we will,” Helen smiled, pushed Liv’s hand from her skirt and stood up. The med-tech quickly followed suit, almost stumbling over her own feet.

The TARDIS wasn’t far. The linguist took hold of her girlfriend’s hand as they weaved through the crowd on their way to the maintenance cupboard, they knew their space and time ship to be hidden in. Under normal circumstances, one or both of them would have worried about leaving the Doctor behind, but without having to discuss it, they were in agreement that he was in capable hands. River certainly had her hands all over him, and Helen thought it only right that they ought to occupy themselves in a similar fashion.

They pushed inside the maintenance cupboard when no-one was looking and most of the noise from the party fell away, and with it - so it seemed - Liv’s self-control. The TARDIS was right where they had left it, but before Helen even got the chance to pull the door open, Liv grabbed hold of her hips. She pressed herself close and found the base of her neck with her lips.

“Liv-” Helen chuckled as she reached for her key in her pocket. She appreciated her enthusiasm. It was a nice feeling to be wanted and it certainly felt like Liv did just that. She found her way underneath her blouse with one hand and returned the other to the inside of her thighs, continuing where she had previously left off. The linguist gasped, missing the lock with her key as she braced herself against the door. “Wait ‘till we’re inside-” She groaned, trying for the lock once more and Liv whispered to her ear:

“How do you expect me to wait when you look the way you do?” She husked, tracing her finger up against the fabric of her pants and Helen’s heart jumped into her throat. Was this just the effect she had on other women who shared her inclinations? “You’re so beautiful, Helen.” Jean had told her as much when she had pushed her to the wall of the boat house by the-

Helen unlocked the door at last and they stumbled inside, unsteady with the alcohol, the feelings of elation and in the linguist’s case, a decent amount of nerves. Liv threw the door shut behind them, and the remainders of the noise from the party stopped. It was just them now and in the silence that engulfed the console room, Helen could hear the rushing of her blood and the frantic beating of her heart.

“Do you want to head for our bedroom straight away or-”

“What I want is to make you feel good,” Liv countered and silenced any sort of protest with a firm kiss. Helen stumbled backwards, but her girlfriend held her up by her hips, manoeuvred her backwards until her thighs collided with the console. “Do you have any idea how often I’ve thought about doing this?” She whispered hotly against her lips.

“Liv, God-” Heat was spreading to every inch of Helen’s body, tinting her cheeks and making her shiver. She would have lied had she denied having those exact same thoughts herself. Liv kissed her passionately, pulled at her bottom lip with her teeth and Helen whimpered. She grabbed on to the edge of the console, knuckles turning white and her girlfriend started unbuttoning her blouse.

“I’ve wanted you for such a long time,” she told her in between kisses, working her way along her buttons. “Do you have any idea of the self-control it’s taken not to-” She ripped the last button of her blouse and trailed her lips down her neck, to her collar bone as her hands brushed back up her body, pulling her blouse along and off her shoulders.

“We should probably-” Helen wanted to suggest the move along, to their bedroom, while she could still think clearly. Her girlfriend’s ministrations were making thinking harder and harder. The linguist’s voice trailed off in a soft moan when Liv palmed her breast through the fabric of her bra.

“The Doctor is busy, he’ll never know,” the med-tech hummed against the base of her throat, finding her pulse point with soft lips. Helen was sure she could feel the frantic beating of her heart, betraying her excitement, but also a dash of panic as memories of things long passed pushed themselves on her. Memories of sneaking around behind teachers’ backs to places where they were alone…

“But Liv-” Helen breathed, suddenly uneasy about where they were. The Doctor could come back at any point. And River could be with him. They would be found out. They would be-

“I love it when you say my name,” Liv growled and the sensation of her lips on her neck made the linguist panic.

“Stop, stop, Liv, stop!”

Helen shoved Liv back and the med-tech stumbled, eyes wide with shock.

“W-what-” She stuttered. “I’m sorry Helen. Did I do something wrong? Did I-” She appeared to have sobered up in an instant, and the concern and fear with which she looked at her made the linguist regret her strong reaction, even though it had been involuntary.

“No, no, it’s fine, I just-” She took a deep breath, trying to shake her head clear of visions of the past. It was as if she could feel Jean’s body pressing her into the wall of the boat house, whispering alluring promises and her illicit intentions to her, forbidden though they were. And Helen’s cheeks burned as they had back then, her body trembled, her breath was short and Liv - lovely, beautiful, considerate Liv Chenka - broke through the haze of memories in a timid voice.

“I- I thought you wanted this,” she hugged her arms around herself and looked to the floor regretfully as if she had committed some great crime.

“I do, I do, I-” Helen rushed to assure her. She pushed off the console, back in the here and now, and quickly closed the gap between them that she had created. She cradled her face and lifted her gaze to meet hers. She couldn’t have her believe her advances were unwanted when she had been thinking about doing this for so long. She wanted Liv more than she had wanted anything or anyone before, even Jean. But how was she to explain the painful grasp the past still had on her? She had underestimated it.

“I’m sorry, I was getting carried away,” Liv took the blame upon herself. “We should go to the bedroom and- I’m sorry, this was stupid of me.”

“No, that’s not it. I just-” Helen didn’t know how to explain, but she knew she had to. She couldn’t keep her girlfriend in the belief she was making her uncomfortable, when the very opposite was the case. She made her feel safe and wanted. “It’s just… what you were saying-”

“Sorry, I’m just a bit- We don’t have to do this now,” Liv pulled away. “I’ll sober up. I’ll get some coffee and I-” She glanced over to the corridor and the way her shoulder slumped, the expression of disappointment she was trying to mask, made Helen panic almost as much as the flash of memories had.

“But I want this, please don’t think I don’t want you. Because I do,” she pleaded and pulled Liv around. She kissed her. Quickly. Forcefully. She took her hands and guided them back to her hips. If only they could carry on and-

But it was Liv’s turn to push her away. She wasn’t so easily distracted.

“Then what’s the problem?” She exclaimed as pent up emotions seemed to seek an outlet. It wasn’t anger as such, it was frustration, and Helen flinched. “What is it that I’m not doing? I’ve been patient, Helen. If sex isn’t for you, just say and-” Liv gave a dismissive wave.

Helen wasn’t quick to anger or strong emotions in general. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was something that was years in the making, but she too burst with frustration and exclaimed:

“Liv, that’s not it at all! You have absolutely no idea what’s going on with me!”

“Right, okay…” Liv’s response was immediately calmed, but visibly hurt.

“Sorry, I’m just having a hard time…” Helen apologised, as the last thing she wanted to do was hurt her. “It’s just… what you were saying was reminding me of the last time I-” She couldn’t quite finish the sentence or meet her eyes but, Liv understood anyway.

“I- I thought you hadn’t-” She stuttered, with a mix of confusion, surprise and a touch of jealousy.

“I don’t know how to talk about it, Liv.” Helen realised she couldn’t bring herself to say anymore. “I’m sorry. Can we just keep going?” She held out her hand to her, hoping she would take it and drop the matter in turn.

“If you’re uncomfortable…” The med-tech took her hand, but evidently wasn’t prepared to move on.

“I’m not uncomfortable, Liv,” Helen shook her head demonstratively and observing her girlfriend’s dumbfounded, helpless expression, the words simply tumbled over her lips: “I just don’t want to be thinking about someone else when I’m here with you.”

“Well, yes, I would quite like to have your undivided attention,” Liv’s response was delivered as a joke, but the humour never reached her eyes. It fell flat and guilt tied the linguist’s stomach in knots.

“Sorry,” she mumbled and cast her eyes to their intertwined hands, grasping her girlfriend’s fingers more tightly, afraid she would let go. Liv, to her credit, overcame the moment of discomfort. She reached out to touch Helen’s cheek and lifted her face to ask:

“What’s going on, Helen?” Her voice was soft and without judgement and if the linguist hadn’t already been in love with her, that would have done it. While Liv could appear brash and tactless, underneath it all she was gentle and kind, and Helen’s vision blurred with tears. She didn’t think she deserved her.

“I-” She took a deep breath, determined to open up and become worthy of her affection and care. “Ever since the vampires…”

“I did wonder what your vision was…” Liv hummed. “You never wanted to say before.” She had asked about it and Helen had always deflected. She hadn’t felt ready to talk about it. She didn’t now, either, but she felt like she owed it to her. Maybe she would feel better once she had finally told someone. Twenty years was too long to keep a secret. Years had buried it in forgetting. Years in which she had denied herself all sort of affection that might remind her. But now, recent experiences with the vampires and her brother had opened up her heart and mind. She had opened up to the possibility of love and affection, but also to the great shame she had worked so hard to forget about.

“And I still don’t,” she confessed as she wished there was no need for this but there was no way back now. “It just- it hurts…”

“Please talk to me,” Liv repeated gently and brought her hands to her lips for an affirming kiss. Helen couldn’t possibly deny her.

“Every time I think of doing this, doing it, with you I have to think about the last - the only time I-” the linguist took a deep breath. “And what happened after...”

“Tell me about it?” The med-tech requested softly. “Maybe I can help. You trust me, don’t you?”

“More than anyone,” Helen whispered, and a tear escaped her eyes, seeking a way down, only to be caught by Liv’s fingers.

“Well then,” she prompted, then turned more self-conscious as she asked: “You’re not still… you know… You don’t still have feelings for this other person, do you?” She gnawed the inside of her cheek, visibly uneasy and the linguist rushed to reassure her.

“Liv! No! Gosh, no, I- It was so long ago. Twenty years or so. I’d almost forgotten,” she stuttered and Liv nodded, managing a small smile before deducing:

“Then the vampires happened.”

“Yes…” Helen confirmed and tried her best to outline her feelings on the matter as she had contemplated them at length, even if she hadn’t voiced them: “And as much as I hate that, it’s also what got me thinking, wondering about myself and working out my feelings and- equally, if it hadn’t been for that, I don’t think I’d have been able to figure out how I feel about you,” she concluded softly.

“And how do you feel about me?” Liv asked with a touch of insecurity that Helen hadn’t seen from her where their relationship was concerned. She had always been steadfast, relying on the years they had known each other now and the many experiences they had made that bound them together. There had never been any doubt and the fact that she felt the need to ask for assurance now told Helen all she needed to know: she had to put things right and explain herself in full so that her girlfriend understood that there was no reason to doubt.

“I love you,” Helen told her firmly and reached out to touch her cheek. “As well you know.” She gave her a hopeful smile and Liv nodded her understanding.

“So tell me what’s holding you back?” She requested.

“My first and only experience I had… it was the reason why I couldn’t let myself feel like this for- well- until I met you,” the linguist explained softly. Her voice was shaky but her words clear.

“What was her name?” Liv asked.

“Jean. We went to school together. We were close. Good friends. Though my parents never approved,” she recalled. Her mind filled with images of the past. Of afternoons of revision which was the only reason her parents had allowed Jean to visit, always under their watchful eyes when they had wanted to do so many things other than studying…

“Why was that?” Liv frowned, returning her to the present and the linguist shrugged.

“Maybe they suspected that-” She stopped herself. Her parents surely hadn’t suspected. If they had, she would have known about it, given her father’s reaction where Albie was concerned… “Jean was always a bit different. Wild. Outspoken. Confident. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t scared of anything or anyone. That’s what got her in trouble in the end.” She considered how those denominators also applied to the woman in front of her. It seemed she was drawn to a certain type of person, the determined, head-strong kind.

“You weren’t… found out or-” Liv’s brow scrunched with concern and Helen quickly shook her head.

“Gosh, no, thankfully. But we- we were close. There was this Sunday morning…" The linguist dropped her gaze to the floor and a blush of embarrassment crept to her cheeks, as she wasn’t used to talking about these things and the nature of the memory was intense. “We should have been in church but we snuck out. Neither one of us particularly cared for religion, even then…” She chuckled. “We went to the park instead, it was a nice day for a walk but Jean had different ideas… We went down to the boating lake, there was no-one around at that time of day and she took my hand and pulled me along behind the boat house…” Her voice gave out and her girlfriend easily filled the silence before it could become heavy:

“Hmm… can’t really blame her for that, sounds like the sort of thing I’d like to do with you…” she offered with a little smirk. She let go of her hands and stepped closer, bringing her hands back to her hips before pressing a tender kiss to her cheek.

“I bet you would,” Helen chuckled, feeling a little better as she looped her arms around her shoulders and rested her head against the side of hers. She was in need of her closeness and the comfort she so easily gave. There was nowhere she felt safer or more at home than in Liv’s arms.

“So you…” The med-tech prompted after a moment of silence.

“We’d kissed before that. Not much, not- you know- passionately but enough to know it was what we both liked and- well, she kissed me rather differently then,” Helen recalled, glad not to have to look in her eyes as she did so. “I’m sure I don’t have to give you the gross details of everything else she did…”

Liv dug her nails into Helen’s hips, the only thing leading on about the jealousy that was likely burning inside her, but she remained silent, obviously continuing to listen intently.

“What happened after?” She asked at last and the linguist needed another moment to build up the courage to answer.

“We both got told off for sneaking away. My parents were angry but they didn’t suspect anything untoward so dropped the matter. Jean’s parents however…” Helen stalled for a moment, fighting the tears that threatened her eyes. “I don’t know, maybe they did suspect something, I don’t know what she may or may not have said to them but- the next day, Jean wasn’t in school,” she explained. “When I got home, I found a note from her. I was lucky my parents didn’t open it, goodness knows what would have happened if they had-”

“What did it say?” Liv questioned, pressing a kiss of comfort to the top of her head, assurance of her continued affection. Her voice, warm and melodic as it always was, remained free of judgement.

“That her parents were sending her away to some boarding school in the country. To have her straightened out,” Helen answered bitterly and pulled away. She brushed the tears from her face that had won out. “Funny way of putting it,” she huffed.

“Helen-” Liv started, she tried to pull her back into her arms but the linguist took a step back, shaking her head as she leaned against the console.

“No, let me finish,” she held her girlfriend at arms length and took a deep breath. “She was going to run away, and she wanted me to come with her. We weren’t far off coming of age and she told me of this life we could have together if only I was brave enough to-” Her voice failed and so did her composure. “I wasn’t brave enough. I ran scared,” she confessed with a sob as her tears started to fall properly.

“Oh Helen,” Liv whispered, her expression heartbroken.

“I never even- I had no way of telling her,” the linguist continued through tears. “She told me where to meet her and that she loved me and that I- And I didn’t go. She would have waited for me and I never turned up.” She hugged her arms around herself and the med-tech looked on, helpless.

“Do you know what happened to her after that?” She asked gently.

“Her parents came around to talk to my parents the day after. Jean had, in fact, run away. I had lost her,” Helen whispered, regaining her composure slowly. “And I had no way of finding her again, even if I’d tried.”

“And did you try?” Liv questioned and the linguist gave a sad smile.

“No.” She shook her head as she wiped her eyes. “And I think that’s the worst thing about it. I decided the risk was too great. That it wasn’t worth the danger, the fear, the prosecution when all we would ever have would be stolen moments, hidden away from prying eyes, secret rendezvous and unspoken desires and- What sort of life would that be? For anyone? I had long burned her note so even when they asked me if I knew where she was, there was nothing to find,” she explained bitterly. “And I feel so guilty. That’s why I never-”

She looked up to Liv for judgement that didn’t come.

“It’s okay, Helen. You were young. You did what you thought was right at the time. You were protecting yourself,” the med-tech replied once it was clear that her girlfriend had concluded her confessional.

“That’s not what it feels like. It feels like I betrayed her,” the linguist whispered and even though it hurt to admit these things, there was also a measure of release to being able to tell someone at last.

“As you said, it was twenty years ago. It’s time that you stopped punishing yourself.” Liv reached for her cheek, brushed her thumb through her trails of tears and regarded her with a soft, affectionate smile. “In all likelihood, she was just fine. She went her own way. And if she was as independent and strong-willed as you say, she would have prevailed and made her life a success. She would have found someone and as lovely as I’m sure your misadventures behind the boat house were… I’m sure she didn’t stop herself from loving again because of that.”

“Oh, you think I’m that forgettable, do you?” Helen chuckled and found she felt a little better as she allowed her girlfriend’s words to sink in.

“Well, I haven’t had the pleasure of that experience yet,” the med-tech smirked and provoked a small laugh from the linguist, encouragement enough to keep going. “In all seriousness though… I think you have repented enough. Twenty years is an awfully long time to deny yourself love.”

“I suppose so…” Helen had no choice but to concede as much, and she brushed a strand of her girlfriend's hair behind her ear. “You ought to take some pride in the fact that you managed to draw me out after so long.”

“Hmm. Just couldn’t resist the temptation, could you?” Liv grinned and little by little, the heaviness around them lifted.

“You are impossible to resist,” the linguist agreed as she looped her arms around her neck. “The moment I found you in my office…” It was a fond memory. She could remember it vividly still. Liv had looked like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and cheeks pinked from the cold outside and the embarrassment of having been caught. The way she had stuttered her greeting had been utterly endearing. Little had Helen known at the time that that was what love at first sight felt like…

“You’ve been wanting to get it on with me?” Liv finished the thought with a smug grin and Helen laughed.

“Something like that,” she confirmed lightly and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She felt a lot better. Her confession hadn’t had any adverse effects as she had feared. Her girlfriend regarded her with the same level of affection as before and she could breathe easily.

“And do you still want to now?” She asked gently and Helen smiled.

“So long as you do. If you can forgive that I might struggle on occasion and-”

“I just want you to be comfortable. I can wait,” Liv told her in all seriousness, brushing the last of her tears away.

“I can’t. Not anymore. It’s been twenty years,” the linguist laughed, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. “Besides, I have been looking forward to this,” she continued, though the admission made her blush. “How about we just see how we go?” Gingerly, she pressed another kiss to her lips, and then to her jaw, and another just below her ear.

“If you need more time…” Liv’s breath hitched but she gave her another opportunity to object anyway.

“I don’t need more time. I think I just needed to tell you. I just needed you to understand.” She found her lips again in a deep kiss.

“I do,” the med-tech confirmed earnestly, looking straight into her eyes to make sure she knew she was serious.

Helen smiled.

“I love you, Liv,” she said, resting their foreheads together.

“I love you too, Helen,” Liv gave back with a fond smile.

“Now… do you think we could carry on where we left off?” Helen asked with a suggestive smirk and just like that, the atmosphere went from sombre to charged.

“I’m all yours,” the med-tech confirmed and kissed her. Helen grinned against her lips and took the initiative, fumbling with the buttons of her girlfriend’s shirt. Liv laughed at her eagerness and took up the task of trailing kisses along her throat once more, delighting in the soft moans and sighs she drew from her.

“Now, are you going to tell me what she did to you?” The med-tech hummed against the base of her throat, sucking at the soft skin there. “So I can be sure to-”

“Gosh, are you jealous?” Helen giggled as she pulled her shirt off her. “It was twenty years ago.”

“And the only experience to have tied you over,” her girlfriend countered, evidently spurred on as she unclipped her bra. “Of course I’m jealous!” She flung it away and Helen shuddered with nerves and anticipation. She felt exposed and tensed up, though Liv’s soft touch along her curves was anything but uncomfortable. It was feather light, tracing the lines of her body as if she was marvelling at a work of art. Her fingertips brushed over her nipples and Helen’s breath caught at the unfamiliar and utterly pleasurable sensation. Jean hadn’t dared to undress her in this manner or been so thorough in her attentions.

“I want to be all you think about,” Liv whispered as if she had sensed her mind wandering, and she replaced her fingers with her mouth, sucking one nipple between her lips and keeping her fingers on the other.

Helen gasped, utterly unprepared for the strong sensation.

“You are. You have been for so long,” Helen responded with a throaty moan, burying her hands in her girlfriend’s hair. Slowly but surely her inhibitions were falling away. Liv seemed to know exactly what she was doing and it all felt wonderful. The linguist had expected to feel self-conscious about her lack of experience, but Liv didn’t allow her to feel any of those insecurities. It did, however, encourage her to say more. “Forty years, remember? Forty years, that’s how long I’ve thought about you-” When she had been travelling alone in the TARDIS on her quest to find St. Nicholas, there had been so many lonely nights when only the memory of her had kept her going.

“Hmm…” This seemed to appease Liv as she smiled against the soft skin of her breast, taking great care to caress every inch. With her free hand, she traced up her thigh. “’Suppose that means it was over sixty years ago since you-”

“I suppose so.” Helen was breathless and feeling bold, she reached for her hand on her thigh, guided it upward. “So you better make up for that.”

“Oh, I intend to,” Liv grinned, running her tongue across her nipple once more and her fingers against the fabric of her pants. “You are the most important - the only - thing in my life. All things past pale in comparison,” she whispered, claiming her mouth in another passionate kiss. Then she pulled away and grabbed her hand. “Come.” She gave her a tug.

“Bedroom after all? Scared the Doctor will walk in?” Helen chuckled.

“Just come along!” The med-tech insisted and bent down to quickly pick up their discarded clothes. There was no need for the Doctor to find them.

“Alright.”

Helen allowed her girlfriend to lead the way, further into the corridors that made up their home until they reached their bedroom. Anticipation was pulling in her gut, a tight sensation that radiated tingling heat and mounted the moment Liv threw the door shut behind them.

“This is better, right?” She questioned as she took a moment to look her up and down. Her desire was written all over her face.

“Well, there was something quite thrilling about the console room, too,” the linguist laughed lightly but didn’t struggle when she manoeuvred her towards the bed.

“Thing is, Helen, it’s not about the thrill. Or the danger. Or whatever,” Liv mumbled in between kisses, raking her hands through her hair as she undid her ponytail. “This is our home,” she continued and pushed her down to sit on the bed. “This is our life. It’s ours. Every part of it.” She reached around herself and undid her bra, threw it away carelessly and Helen looked up at her in awe, overwhelmed by her advances and words alike.

“I’m yours. In every way,” Liv told her firmly and grasped her face. “What you were saying about it not being much of a life when you have to hide away… we don’t have to hide. We have a life that is so full of love,” she gave her a warm smile, filled with the love she spoke off. Deep emotions that touched Helen’s very soul. She feared she might tear up again, but Liv held her attention firmly as she sunk to her knees between her legs. “And I am going to do whatever I can to make you happy.” She unclipped her stockings one by one, kissed the insides of her thighs as she rolled them down and took her heels off too.

Helen’s breath caught in her throat when Liv pulled her forward to the edge of the mattress and reached around her to unzip her skirt. The linguist’s heart hammered in her chest. She wasn’t sure what she had hoped for but this exceeded every expectation. She had never felt more appreciated, more cherished, more wanted.

Liv knelt up and kissed her once more, pouring her emotions into the heated meeting of lips. She pushed her tongue inside her mouth, making her groan and whimper.

“And that includes making love to you,” she whispered, returning her hands to her girlfriend’s hips, looping her fingers around her underwear. She tugged at the fabric and Helen lifted herself up, allowing her to relieve her of her last item of clothing. “On a bed we share every night. Nothing thrilling. Nothing dangerous. Nothing illicit. Just… life. Normal life,” Liv spoke against her lips and the linguist released a shaky breath.

“Oh Liv…” She cradled her girlfriend’s face, close to tears once more. She was right. Of course she was. She had nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to fear. Everything had fallen into place. It was just them in the quiet of their bedroom. This moment belonged only to them. It was the realisation of the magnetic pull that had existed between them since they first met. Looking back now, it had been inevitable. They were inevitable.

“Get on the bed,” Liv hummed and Helen’s chest tightened with anticipation.

“Finish undressing first,” she gave back softly. It wasn’t just that she wanted them to be on equal footing, it was the fact that she had spent far too long merely imagining.

“Alright,” the med-tech chuckled and got to her feet again. She kicked off her boots first and Helen watched with bated breath. She leaned forward, traced her fingers over her collar bone, slowly down to the valley of her breasts and as she pressed her hand to her chest, she could feel the racing of her heart.

“You’re beautiful,” Helen told her softly, continuing her feather-light touch along her breasts and making her shudder.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Liv mumbled, biting back a moan. She unzipped her trousers and the linguist helped her along, dragging the tight jeans down and as she did so, she leaned forward pressing her lips against her lower abdomen. “Helen…” the med-tech groaned as she grew bolder and brought her hand down between her legs. She found her pants wet and her hips buckling forward. Helen had no experience to fall back on. She was going on instinct alone, but she seemed to be doing something right. She dragged her pants down, eager to carry on but Liv grabbed her wrist before she could.

“Lie down,” she repeated and this time, the linguist allowed herself to be pushed back into the pillows. Liv climbed on top of her, pushing her thigh between her legs. Helen moaned, instinctively pushing her hips against her, a welcome precursor to what was yet to come.

The med-tech hovered over her for a moment, hands either side of her torso and Helen reached out, brushed the hair back that was falling into her face. Liv mirrored her gesture. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and gave her an adoring smile.

“I want this, Liv,” Helen whispered. “I want you.” And she pulled her down to kiss her and rocked her hips against her thigh and it was all the encouragement her girlfriend needed. She did, however, take her time which the linguist appreciated in the way that she made her feel at ease, but also fanned the flames of her desire. A need was building inside her that she hadn’t experienced before. When she had been with Jean, it had been a spur of the moment thing. Lovely, yet brief. Fulfilling, but fleeting. Liv, on the contrary, mapped her body with her hands and lips, obviously determined to pay close attention to every part of her. Helen’s skin tingled with her touch, she grew hot and breathless and the pull in her gut became unbearable.

“Liv, please-” Helen whimpered and Liv smiled as she kissed her way back up to her lips. She shifted on top of her and shimmied both of her legs in between the linguist’s, pushing them apart. And then, she hand down between her legs at last. The linguist gasped.

“Relax,” Liv whispered, pressing her forehead against hers. She watched every reaction of hers intently, every whimper, every sigh, as she dragged her fingers through her wetness and found her clit, drawing lazy circles around it.

“Oh god-” Helen wanted to pull away at first, the sensation was so intense but slowly, she grew accustomed to it. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears as she pressed her eyes shut and clawed her nails into her girlfriend’s back. If Liv minded, she didn’t let on. She caressed her cheek with her free hand, then slowly eased a finger inside her.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” she mumbled, peppering her face with kisses.

“Please keep going,” Helen whispered, releasing a shaky breath and her girlfriend did as she was asked. Gently, she pushed further. The linguist groaned. She held Liv close, held on to her as she adjusted to the unfamiliar feeling. She couldn’t be sure how much of it was instinct, how much conscious desire, but it was just what she needed and she rocked her hips onto her hand.

“I love you, Helen,” Liv hummed to her ear and wrapped her arm around her shoulders as she started moving her fingers inside her.

“Fuck, Liv-” Helen sobbed, as pleasure and a dash of pain blended together in an intense mixture of sensations and her girlfriend held up for a moment.

“Are you okay?” The med-tech asked, evidently worried but her girlfriend just nodded again and again.

“Yes- Please just- keep going,” she whispered, rocking her hips against her hand and Liv took her cue. She settled into a steady rhythm and soon, there was no more discomfort or pain as Helen moved with her. Heat spread to every corner of her body, muscles tensing and she panted. She met her thrusts that grew more forceful the more she adjusted to it. Liv seemed to be able to read her perfectly as she rested her head against hers, whispering encouraging nothings in her beautiful, melodic voice and it drove Helen wild as she lost herself in what she was feeling.

“I’ve got you,” Liv told her as the sensations started mounting, pushing the linguist towards a breaking point she hadn’t realised she had.

“Liv, oh god-” she felt as though she was going to rip apart. Her muscles burned. Her heart was hammering so fast, she feared it might give out. Liv brushed her hair back that stuck to her forehead with sweat.

“Just let go,” she whispered to her and brushed her thumb to her clit.

It was no voluntary thing, Helen couldn’t have controlled it had she tried. Her muscles seized up and her body shook. A wave of heat rushed through her and her nerve endings fired in a whirlwind of sensations. Liv held her through it. She slowed her movement and helped her down gently, but Helen found herself utterly overwhelmed. She covered her face with her hand and gasped for breath, tears spilling from her eyes.

“Helen, it’s okay,” Liv pulled her hands from her and pushed herself up so she could cup her face. “Did I- Did I hurt you?” She asked insecurely and Helen wiped her cheeks as best as she could.

“No, I just-” She couldn’t describe it. It was as if years of pent up tension, regrets and fears had fallen off her in one liberating strike. “I guess it’s the pressure lifting and-” Her voice was hoarse and gave out but it didn’t matter. Liv seemed to understand as she gave her a warm smile.

“Come here,” she climbed off her and lay down, opening her arms to her. It was an invitation Helen could hardly refuse and even though her muscles ached, she rolled over and shimmied up to her.

“Thank you, Liv,” she whispered as she rested her head on her shoulder. She put her hand onto her chest, right above her heart that she could feel beating away, even and strong. “Thank you for- just- thank you.”

“Thank you for letting me in,” Liv smiled and kissed the top of her head, as she wrapped her arms around her. “I know it wasn’t easy but I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

“It already is,” Helen whispered, tracing her fingers along her girlfriend’s ribs. “Since you came into my life, I-”

“What?” The med-tech prompted gently when she broke off.

“The life I’d led until then… it never felt like my own. It wasn’t what I’d wanted or needed or- and the fact that I got to leave it behind for this-” It was almost too much to comprehend. “Some days I still can’t quite believe it.”

“Me neither…” Liv admitted, pressing another kiss to her head. “You saved me. I was in such a dark place before I met you…”

“Let’s not dwell on the past any longer,” Helen decided, finding herself oddly free of the memories and thought patterns that had plagued her for so long. All was said and done. She pushed herself upright and grasped her girlfriend’s face. “Let’s focus on the future,” she smiled.

you stood dripping and furious in the narrow corridor, a sodden puddle forming around your bare feet on the plush carpet, the air conditioning raising goosebumps on your skin.

“no towels,” you seethe to the empty lounge, your voice tight, “not a single goddamn towel in this whole billion-dollar bus,” and you stomp, barefoot and naked, past the kitchenette, past the bank of TVs showing silent security feeds, your hair still dripping, painting cold tracks down your spine with every furious stride. you hoped michael could hear you.

he’s could hear you, of course.

he lay propped against a mountain of pillows on the massive bed that took up the entire rear wall, a hardcover book open in his lap.

but his eyes aren’t on the page, they’re tracking you, a slow liquid sweep from your damp scowling face, down the sheen on your collarbones, over the curve of your breasts, the dip of your stomach, the swell of your hips, as you march to the dresser bolted to the wall.

“unbelievable,” you mutter, yanking a drawer open, the sound loud and violent in the quiet, rummaging around in the top drawer. your pyjamas were off with the laundry department that were on hire for the dangerous tour so you had to make do with michael’s long black band t-shirts. 

“i feel gross, puffy, my body’s just holding onto everything this week, i’m up three pounds from yesterday... my jeans are tight in the wrong places, everything feels swollen and sore and wrong,” you keep rummaging, seething about the fact your cycle has you ovulating… it was a curse - you were horny but… pudgy as your hormones fluctuated.

you shook out an old AC/DC shirt-with no holes, because heaven knows you were always finding old sentimental shirts with gaping gaps in em- and in the turning, caught your reflection in the mirror. The frown was already there, deep and worn

“look,” you whined, “it’s like my body’s betraying me,” and you slap a hand against your outer thigh, the sound a sharp, satisfying smack in the quiet. “ugh ive gotten so soft”

that’s when he speaks, his voice a low warm rumble that seems to vibrate through the floor and up into the soles of your feet. he hasn’t spoken in a bit.

“i like it.”

you freeze, the shirt halfway over your head, pull it back down, and turn to look at him. he’s closed the book, set it aside. his gaze is unwavering, dark as the night outside the window, utterly focused. his hair is natural, down and soft looking. he’d showered directly after the show, so it had gone a little fuzzy.

he looked sweet sitting there - a goofy tshirt from Disney world that he’d worn the print so bad with washes, that the cartoon looked deformed. the tshirt was bundled up on his stomach, showing a dark wiry happy trail that led down into some plaid boxer shorts. 

you drunk him in, how pretty he looked without his makeup, and the cute little splodges of pigment on his legs. he was so endearing, but hot at the same time, you kinda just wanted to —

“wait what?”

you had totally lost your train of thought whilst looking at him. and he knew it.

“i like seein’ you a little fuller,” he says, simple as stating the time, his eyes drifting back to your thighs,

“specially there. when i’m between your legs, with my mouth on you… i can really feel them then.” he smirked at you, his eyes dancing with mirth. he was teasin’ cause he knew you were horny.

“they press against my ears, my cheeks. they cradle me in. it’s like… the whole world is just your taste and the softness of your thighs. i love that feelin’.”

he says it all so matter-of-factly, so honestly, that the anger seeps out of you, replaced by a slow creeping heat spreading low in your belly. you smirk, a deflection. 

“you’re so full of it, mike. you’d say anything to get laid.”

he swings his legs off the bed, pads over to you on silent feet, “no, no i mean it. i see you gettin’ frustrated with yourself. but to me… you look healthy. strong. your skin’s got this warmth to it.” his hands come up, resting lightly on your hips through the soft cotton of the shirt, his thumbs finding the new gentle curve of your lower belly,

“it’s not just weight. it’s your body workin’. doin’ what it’s meant to. Protectin’ you. it makes you softer right here,” he murmurs, pressing gently against your lower tummy, “it’s mother nature. I’ve read about it.”

you roll your eyes but the heat in your belly is a traitorous spreading warmth, a direct counterpoint to the frustration knotting your shoulders, 

“you’re just sayin’ that. we’ve been eating trash food and I’ve been having one too many cocktails with the crew at the after parties. that’s why i’m bloated and irritable and down on myself“

you brought your arms up to rest around his neck. “you’re just trying to make moves because you know my cycle and know I’m ovulatin’” your mouth quivers into a sly smile.

“I see you looking in my diary mike”

the moment the word leaves your lips—ovulatin’—his entire demeanor shifts, subtle but profound, the sleepy appreciative warmth in his eyes sharpening into a focused, almost crazed intensity, his pupils dilating, the hands on your hips stilling then flexing, his fingertips pressing in just a fraction more, as if he can feel the truth of it under his palms.

he doesn’t bother to laugh the accusation off. he just looks at you, his dark eyes serious, almost shy in that terrifyingly focused way. he closed the last bit of distance, his body heat a wall against the bus’s chill,

“its jus ‘cause i love you,” he says, his voice dropping even lower, becoming hushed, “i can tell without the diary. you’ve got a… a glow about you this week. a warmth. i’ve been noticin’ it.”

“you’re such a darling thing when you’re hormonal, you’re little frustrated faces,” he continues, teasing. his voice is low though, almost a mumble.

hes clearly nervous. he’s correcting your assumption that he’s only noticing because he wants sex, his gaze dropping to his thumbs tracing the shape of you,

“i think about it — i mean… when you’re like this… a little softer. it means your body is… ready. And it makes you hotter” he’s fumbling over his words.

“you think about me bein’ hormonal and puffy? Does that get you off?” you tease, but your voice has lost its edge, caught in the gravity of his stare.

he shakes his head in aggreeance, finally looking up at you, a flush creeping up his neck but it isn’t from just embarrassment now, it’s from a building raw tenderness, “i think about you bein’… ready for me. your body knowin’ exactly what it wants. what it’s meant for.” his grip tightens, pulling you a half-inch closer, “it’s all i’ve been able to think about today.”

“tell me more.” you whisper

he ducks his head, his forehead touching your shoulder, his words a warm secret murmur against your skin, “i imagine you. full with my child. for real. your hips would get a lil wider, to make room. you’d be so heavy with it. all round and soft. beautiful, and your breasts…” he trails off, his breath catching, “they’d be full, too. achin’ sometimes… y’know. from the milk. and i’d want to ease the ache for you, suckle on em and make you feel good.”

the image is so stark, so visceral, it steals the air from your lungs.

“you’re out of your mind,” you breathe, deflecting but you’re arching into his touch, the frustration melting under a wave of sheer wanton need.

he reaches around with both hands, his palms broad and warm, and takes a firm, deliberate hold of your backside, his fingers sinking into the soft, full flesh through the worn cotton of the t-shirt. he squeezes gently, kneading, pulling you a fraction closer against him until you can feel the hard line of his arousal pressed against your stomach.

“i know,” he whispers back, his voice a low, rough vibration against your lips as he finally lifts his head. all the earlier softness, the boyish shyness, is gone, completely stripped away. what remains is a look of pure, undiluted intent, his eyes so dark they seem to swallow the dim light of the bus.

“baby, we’ve waited,” he says, the words thick with a pent-up hunger you can feel in the tremor of his hands. 

“been so damn careful. pills, condoms, timin’… playin’ it safe like our lives depended on it.” he leans in, his forehead touching yours, his breath hot and shared. “tonight, i don’t wanna be careful. i don’t wanna hold back a single goddamn thing.”

his hands slide from your backside, smoothing up the curve of your spine, and find the hem of the shirt. his knuckles brush the bare skin of your waist, sending a lightning-bolt shiver through you. in one slow, deliberate motion, he begins to gather the soft black fabric in his fists, lifting it, exposing you inch by inch to the cool air and the heat of his gaze.

“let me fill you up” he breathes, the words a formality, “please. i need to feel you. all of you. i need to be close to you. right now.”

you nod, a tiny helpless motion, that’s all the permission he needs. because deep down you want it too.

you’d usually tell him, the words a breathless, unconvincing plea in the dark, “n-no, mike, pull out, please,” even as your thighs would clamp tight around his hips, your ankles locking at the small of his back, your whole body pulling him deeper, holding him in-every clutching movement screaming the exact, desperate opposite of the weak protest leaving your lips.

the last pretense of patience evaporates, he kisses you then, deep and slow. a sweet, thorough claiming of your mouth that has your knees buckling, he walks you backward until your legs hit the edge of the massive bed, he lays you down, following you, his body covering yours, all lean warm muscle and trembling urgency.

he pushes the t-shirt up and over your neck, his mouth leaving a searing trail down your throat after your bare for him. over your collarbone, and then lower, he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue circling the peak until you cry out, your back bowing off the mattress.

“we’re always so lost in followin’ the rules,” he mutters against the damp skin of your sternum, his hands gripping the softness of your hips, holding you still, “but not tonight. I cant, not when you’re lookin so good like this.”

he moves down your body, his breath hot on your belly, his thumbs hooking in the hollow behind your knee bone to spread you open.

he doesn’t even bother teasing, he puts his mouth on you with a low grateful sound, his tongue laying a broad wet stripe over your clit before settling into a slow relentless rhythm, his nose pressed against you, his cheeks cushioned by the flesh of your thighs.

he loves you with his mouth, tender and thorough, until you’re shuddering, your heels digging into his back, until you’re whispering his name into the quiet of the bus that’s still driving, only when you’re clenching around nothing, your hips lifting off the bed in a silent plea, does he rise up.

he scrambles back on his knees, his movements suddenly frantic, boyish with eagerness. he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his plaid boxers and shoves them down in one hurried, graceless motion, kicking them off his ankles. he’s already hard, the heavy, flushed weight of him curving up against his stomach, the skin taut, patchy and gleaming in the low light. the sight of him, so desperately ready, so stripped of his usual controlled grace, makes a bubble of fond laughter threaten in your chest. you bite down hard on your lower lip to trap it, the pressure turning into a shaky, wanton smile instead.

he doesn’t even seem to notice, his entire world is you. the space space between your thighs. he moves over you, the broad, aching crown of him nudging insistently against your soaked entrance, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding still. a fine sheen of sweat gleamed on his temple. his breath sawed in and out of his chest.

"god, look at you," he choked out, his voice wrecked. "so ready. you're always lovely but tonight… tonight you're perfect."

he leaned forward and dropped his forehead against yours, his eyes squeezed shut, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary jerk against your clit that made you both gasp with pleasure.

“i need to put a baby in you so bad it's makin' me stupid."

you can’t speak, you instead just nod. your eyes are watering with the emotion of it all.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, your answer in the arch of your body.

a broken sound tears from his throat and he sinks into you, deep, one long devastating thrust that stretches you perfectly, hilting him completely, a punched-out gasp leaving your lips. he’s staring at you, his face strained with the angle but still so perfect.

his lips full and red, a vein on his forehead protruding with his concentration. you reach up and thumb his mouth, right over his perfect cupids bow.

“yes baby, I love you so m-much, you make me feel so good” you mutter over and over again and he’s saying it back, it’s perfect, your voices harmonising in the quiet space

he’s moving purposefully, each thrust lived in a little longer before he pulls out to drive back in, it’s tender in its absolute focus.

he moves with a deep rolling rhythm, his eyes locked on yours, fluttering shut every one and a while from pleasure. every push is a claim, every withdrawal a promise to return.

"gonna watch you change," he pants, the words hot and broken against your mouth, his forehead slick with sweat where it presses to yours. all you can taste is salt. 

"day by day. gonna feel it happen under my hands." his hips roll, crazily slow, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. "your skin gettin' tighter. your curves. all mine. you're gonna be so damn beautiful it'll ruin me.

after a few minutes of this slow claiming pace, he pulls out almost completely, his breath ragged, “turn over for me,” he murmurs, his hand guiding your hip, “on your side.”

you comply, curling onto your side, he slides in behind you, one arm hooking under your top knee, hiking your leg up high, the angle is obscenely deep, intimate, he can go no further, and he begins to move again, shorter sharper thrusts that rub a spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids, “Jesus,” he grunts, his lips against your shoulder blade, “you feelin’ okay baby?”

He continues to breathlessly talk to you in between thrusts; “m’so happy i have this with you, so safe, so right”

you can only moan in response, he picks up the pace and starts mercilessly rubbing your clit with his four fingers. but you can feel the tension start building in him, the way his breaths are becoming ragged and the uncoordination; he’s not going to last.

“i need you on top,” he gasps suddenly, stilling, “i need to see you. need to watch you take me.”

he helps you turn, guiding you to straddle his hips, you sink down onto him, a slow breathless descent, for a moment you just rock and grind there, your hands braced on his chest, setting the pace.

“s-shit that’s good” you mumble

he lets you keep your pace for a bit, his hands roaming over your stomach, your breasts, his eyes worshipful, “look at you,” he breathes, “takin’ me. so beautiful like this.”

‘you’re perfect, so utterly perf–”

but then his control frays, his hands come up to grip your waist, then slide around to clutch your back, pulling your torso down hard against his chest, he holds you there, locked to him, your breasts pressed against his sweat laced skin, your face buried in his neck,

“stay like that m’girl” he whispers, his voice strained, and he begins to thrust upward, fast and desperate, driving into you from below. the force of it drives the air from your lungs, you can’t move, can’t do anything but cling to him as he moves under you, his hips pistoning. you were dizzy from how good it felt, him reaching your g-spot over and over again, with ease.

this is what undoes him, the feel of you pinned, taking him, while he drives himself home, 

“’m close, baby, i’m so close,” he chants into your hair, his rhythm becoming erratic.

“let me…” he chokes on the pleasure slightly. “let me be on top for this,” he manages to grit out, “i need to… i need to see your face as i fill you up”

he rolls you both over in one fluid, desperate motion- a half-spin that leaves him on top again, never slipping out, his weight settling over you and his arms caging your head.

he’s breathing like a sprinter, his entire body taut, “i’m gonna finish inside you,” he pants, almost again shyly asking for permission. you nod and give a clipped “mhmm”

the vein in his temple throbs. “gonna give you all of me’,” he rasps, his voice scraped raw from the force of holding back. “every drop. you’re gonna take it. c’mon, baby. say you will. say it for me”

“shit–please,” you sob, your own climax building again, triggered by his desperation, “yes, michael– please.”

with a shattered cry he drives into you one final grinding time and holds, buried to the hilt, you feel him pulse, a hot rhythmic flooding deep inside you that seems to go on and on, 

“ah—god, ohhh, sweet je— mhmm…” he groans, totally nonsensically, his body convulsing with each release, you clench around him, milking him through your own climax, as he messily rubs your clit with his thumb. you think even his words were enough to put you over the edge this time.

he stayed there, softening inside you. he looked like incredulous. “oh my god, that felt incredible,”

he sighed again, eyes roaming all over your body and then stilled at where you were both joined. “m’gonna have to do that every time now til we make a baby”

“uh-huh. Im pretty sure thats how this whole thing works– you have to do it over and over” you giggle.

‘Mhmm m’not complainin’ baby”

slowly, he slips out of you, but he doesn’t roll away, he shifts down your body, his movements languid, possessive, he hooks his hands behind your knees, pushing your legs up and apart, opening you to the cool air of the bus—and to his gaze.

there, in the dim light, his release is already beginning to seep out, he watches it, his expression one of profound quiet awe, he presses a thumb gently against you, spreading you open a fraction further, a thicker trickle escapes and slides down.

“look at that,” he murmurs, his voice hushed and full of wonder,

“filled my baby up so nicely.” he leans down and places a soft lingering kiss low on your belly, then looks back up at you, his eyes shining,

“you’re gonna be incredible. carryin’ our child. your body’s meant for it. you’re gonna be so beautiful, all round and glowin’.”

he doesn’t say anything else, he just gathers you, pulls you against his chest, and wraps himself around you, one hand splayed low on your stomach.

his dream is no longer just in the air between you, it’s a warm claiming presence inside you, and his quiet steady breathing against your back is pure satisfied possession.

your stupid ass certainly ruins the moment.

"Uh, Mike—" you whined, the spell thoroughly broken. "I gotta pee and you're squishin' me."

he laughs heartily and rolls away from you.

“yeaaaah forgot about the whole ‘peein’ directly after thing’.”

He pauses and then feigns anger. “don’t be such a moany pants”

you rolled your eyes and got up.

“Mhm laugh and joke now, michael, you’ll know all about moanin’ when I’m 8 months pregnant and the size of a minivan with anger issues”

“I can handle you, sweet thang, don’t you worry”

fin.

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