“Yeah, yeah. Don’t give a fuck what the cat was called, sweetheart. How could I when I have you right here? Fuck, you’re dripping for me, angel, gonna feel so good when you cum around my cock,” he groans, hands sliding down to cup your thighs as he massages them in his grip. Heat rises to your face and you promptly bury yourself in his neck, peppering kisses to the junction where it meets his jawline as he chuckles at you. “Don’t get all shy on me now, corazón. Actin’ like this wasn’t your idea in the first place,” Miguel teases, his voice cracking slightly as his cock drags against your velvety walls and you let out a broken moan.

“Shut up,” you whine, head still firmly planted against your boyfriend’s hot skin. “Didn’t— fuck— ask, did I?”

Something about the pettiness of your statement is far harder to take seriously when Miguel has your legs shaking around him and so he decides to let it slide, opting to laugh at you rather than torturing you further. “Okay, okay, mi— shit, squeezin’ me so tight. You close, honey? Gonna cum for me? God, please cum for me, you look so pretty when you do—” It’s not long before the huge man’s babbling has your head tilting back to hit the wall of the stall as your cunt clenches around him, your orgasm washing over you as Miguel’s thumb comes up to brush against your clit. You jolt slightly at the stimulation, whining at the slight pain that’s beginning to creep in as Miguel’s thrusts speed up. He’s pounding into you with no reprieve now, arm up above you as he clutches at the top of the stall’s wall to steady himself. “I know, mi vida, I know. I’m sorry, I’m so close, I swear— fuck— taking me so well, cariño, I’m gonna— shit”, he swears, pulling out at the last moment so that he can paint your thigh with his release. It’s so hot when his head slides back to moan as he cums and you have to resist the urge to bite him, instead deciding to whine as you turn on shaky legs to sit on top of the closed lid of the toilet. Miguel turns to you a second later, pulling toilet roll out of the dispenser to his left as he leans over and begins to clean himself off of the soft skin of your thigh, leaving a sweet kiss behind on the spot as he does so.

“So,” he starts as soon as you’re both fully dressed again, your breath finally beginning to return to your lungs. He’s bending down to retie your shoelace for you as he squares his shoulders and looks up into your eyes, an expression of pure, unadulterated (and rather sappy) love evident on his face. “I have a really important question to ask you, and it’s been on my mind for so long—”

You roll your eyes at him, incredulous. “Miguel O’Hara, I swear to God. If you dare propose to me in a public bathroom—”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widen in mock surprise and he rises to his feet. “Propose? To you? In a bathroom?! Mi vida, what are you on about? Clearly I was about to ask if you wanted falafel or sushi for dinner,” he rebukes, barely holding in a peal of laughter as it shakes his broadened shoulders.

“Oh, fuck off, O’Hara. Obviously I want sushi.”