#rabbitsmilestone23

Sy tightens his jaw and he breathes out a ragged curse through his teeth as he slips past your slick, velvet folds and into your silken heat. He watches, enthralled by the utterly carnal vision of himself disappearing inside your impossibly tight core.

“Stop,” you gasp and he peers up at you perched precariously above him. 

Your thighs tremble beneath his hands and it takes everything he has to stop himself from grabbing your hips and sliding your blossoming core all the way down his cock.

“You’re doing so well, babygirl,” he says, dropping his gaze back to the explicit view between your legs. 

You’ve only taken the tip of him inside yourself and already he feels that tingle brewing in the base of his spine. He’s waited so long for you, longer than he ever thought he’d wait for anyone and he could barely stand it.

“Just a little more, I know you can do it.”

“Daddy,” you whimper. “You’re too big.”

He groans as sweat breaks out over his forehead. “Fuck, baby. You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say, in a voice that quivers as much as your pouty bottom lip.

Sy’s heart breaks and he sits up drawing you to his chest. “Hush. You did so good for me baby. Daddy’s proud of you for tryin’.” 

With the tip of his cock still trapped within your snug pussy, he rocks you slowly, murmuring his sweet praise in your ear as he strokes your hair. His thumb caresses your cheek and he smiles when he feels your soft lips against his pad. His cock pulses inside of you as your plush tongue curls around him and you begin to suck. It doesn’t take long for him to feel your quivering body relax against him. He closes his eyes, content as he feels you hum happily within his arms.

He doesn’t really notice at first, he thinks the soft warmth enveloping his cock must be his imagination. Then he hears you moan.

“Babygirl?” he murmurs, softly.

“Hmm?”

He looks at your pretty head resting on his shoulder. You look almost asleep, your eyes seem to have trouble focussing and you’re still sucking hard on his thumb. But then you sigh and nuzzle into his neck while you roll your hips and there’s no doubt about it, you’re slowly sinking lower onto his cock.

“That’s my girl,” he growls into your ear. “That my good fuckin’ girl.”

Sy clenches his jaw to keep himself in check, each moment you rock your hips and take more of him into you is the most exquisite torture he’s ever had. 

“Am I doing good, Daddy?” you ask, hesitantly, dropping his thumb from your mouth.

He’s trembling as much as you were earlier. He has no idea how you can’t see how much you’re affecting him, that you can’t see that in this moment he’d give you everything, anything, just for a little bit more of your sweet pussy.

“So good baby,” he groans. “But don’t stop, Daddy needs more.”

He has to lay down, he has to see his thickness stretch you open. He holds your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he falls back to the bed. His mouth falls open as he watches the last of his cock vanish and your bodies completely fuse. 

He can’t hold it back, that orgasm that threatened from the start tore through his spine and his hips bucked up from the mattress. His eyes force themselves shut as hot pulses surge through him and even though he can’t see anymore, the image of your bodies finally together is burned into his psyche.

His politeness always went straight to my pussy. This man could hold the planet but needed to feel protected, I could do that. “I’ll help you, Clark. On one condition.”

“Anything,” he whispers, already slipping into submissive mode.

“You give yourself over to me completely. From this moment on, until you can’t take any more, and I’ll be the judge of that, you are mine to do with whatever I please. Do you understand?” I ponder aloud, my hand ghosting across his jawline.

“Yes, Miss. I understand that you are in control,” he breathes, his blue eyes blazing in the low light of the dining room. Damn, he is such a good little sub already.

“Good boy,” I hum, running my fingers through his curls. Now, I expect a response and when I didn’t get one, I let him know what happens when he does the wrong thing. Grabbing a fistful of his hair and tightening my grip, I growl in his ear. “I didn’t hear a thank you.”

“Thank you, Miss. I’m sorry, Miss,” he whimpers, eyes remorseful.

“Now he gets it,” I purr, releasing my grip on his hair. “You’re going to go to the guest room. You’re going to crawl on your hands and knees. When you get there, you’re going to strip completely and wait for me. When your head is down and your hands are resting on your thighs, I’ll know you’re ready to begin. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss, I understand,” he affirms, looking down in servitude.

“Good boy,” I beam, getting up to stand over him, “Go on then, show Miss that you can follow directions.”

“Yes, Miss,” he says, hands going to the floor in front of him as he begins to crawl on his hands and knees through the house, looking for all intents and purposes like a cat stalking after prey. But this time, I was the predator. Watching his shoulder blades shift through his tight dress shirt, his perfect ass swaying in those perfectly tailored dress pants. The man was a vision of lust. And I was ready to tear him apart.

In truth, I did make him wait for just a hairsbreadth longer than I intended to. I took my time getting ready, slipping into some new lingerie Clark had never seen and dabbing his favorite scent on my wrists and neck. I grab the rope and my Hitachi and put on my highest stilettos. I walk slowly to the guest room, letting the click of my heels alert him that I was coming.

Entering the room, I see Clark kneeling with his back to the bed. Head down, hands resting on his thighs. My sub is so good at following the rules. And by the way his cock hangs heavy between his legs, I can tell he is beyond excited to start.

“Such a good boy, waiting so patiently for me,” I purr, stalking over to him and placing one hand within his curls and one on his cheek, “We have a few things to go over and then we can get started, ok baby?”

“Yes, Miss,” he acknowledges his understanding, turning to my hand to kiss my palm.

“That brings us to Rule #1: You don’t get to touch unless I give you permission. I will allow you this one mistake, but be clear that is the only one. Rule #2: You cum when I say you do, no sooner or later. Rule #3: If I ask you what color, you respond with green for good, yellow for slow down, or red for stop. Do you understand these rules?” I step back and raise his chin so he can look me in the eye.

“Yes, Miss, I understand these rules,” he sighed, pupils blown and wild.

“Good boy. To make sure Rule #1 is followed to the letter, I’m going to take away your ability to use your hands. May I begin to restrain you?” 

“Yes, Miss,” he agrees, watching me as I pick up the red rope I brought into the room with me.

“Good boy. Stand for me so I can tie your chest and arms,” I croon, waiting until he was at his full height to kiss and nip at his jawline as I untwined the rope slowly. 

I find the tails of the rope, holding onto the bight, and begin to tie the Shinju harness across his broad chest. As I tighten the rope every so often, I also tease Clark’s nipples with the soft pads of my fingers. I lean in and lick and bite at his pectoral muscles until he squirms. I connect his arms to the harness, keeping them straight to emphasize his chest as he is forced to stand straighter. I finish and stand back to look at my work. 

“We both know you can get out of the rope if you need to. But in keeping with the rest of the night, I’m going to let you out of the ropes if you need to be rid of them. Color?” I prod, suddenly feeling the reality of domming Superman.

“Green, Miss,” he assures, cock bobbing happily between his legs. 

I reach down and lightly squeeze the base of his cock and he whimpers. “On your knees facing the bed,” I insist, pushing down on his shoulders. I sit on the bed after taking off my lace thong and I put my shins on his shoulders. “You look hungry, Clark. Why don’t you eat my pussy until I cum on that pretty face of yours?”

“Yes, Miss” he breathes, getting to work with that wicked tongue of his. I don’t understand how he is holding himself up without the use of his hands, but it must be a balance thing. I don’t put too much thought into it as my focus is elsewhere. 

Before I know it, Clark is humming around my clit at just the right decibel to have me screaming his name. He then laps up my juices as they flow uncontrollably from me, leaning back after I push him back. 

“Thank you, Miss,” he says, ever the polite submissive.

“Such a good boy, you are, Clark. I think you’ve earned an orgasm,” I praise, getting up to grab the Hitachi. I play with the settings, letting the lowest setting stay on while I tease Clark’s nipples. When he starts to wriggle at the sensation, I push the head of the Hitachi against the underside of his balls. This is where the fun begins…

With his balls being stimulated, I lean down and wrap my lips around his cockhead, swirling my tongue. Clark groans so loud and for so long, it feels like his entire being will explode.

“May I please cum, Miss?” he yelps, his breathing fast-paced.

“Cum for me, Clark,” I confirm, watching as Clark’s tension ebbs away. His tightly shut eyes pop open and he cries out as his cock erupts into my eagerly awaiting mouth. After a few seconds, I realize he is still cumming and turn off the Hitachi, putting it to the side. I wait until his cock only twitches but doesn’t release any more spunk and I pull off of him in enough to catch him as he pitches forward. 

“Clark, I’m taking off the ropes, ok?” I don’t wait for an answer as I make quick work of releasing his arms and sliding the ropes off of him. I roll him over on his back and see his eyes searching mine. “I’m right here baby, are you ok? I think that orgasm might have been a little too intense.”

“I’m…k. Yeah, in…tense. Thank you…Miss,” he stutters, a lazy grin on his face, cock still twitching.

“You did so good baby, I am so proud of you,” I croon, leaning Clark into my lap while I check his arms and chest for rope burns. When I see nothing to worry about, I run my fingers through his curls. “How are you feeling now, Clark?”

“I think a few brain cells are gone completely but it was so worth it. I think I was deep in subspace for a second there,” he smiles up at me, love beaming in his eyes.

“Yeah, I would say so. That means you really needed it,” I kiss the tip of his nose, “So, I think I know the answer, but for my own ego, how did I do?”

“You took such good care of me. I felt so safe with you. And the way you took charge and realized I needed to end the scene? That was perfect. I couldn’t ask for a better Domme. Thank you, baby,” He brings my face down to his and kisses me.

“You are very welcome. What do you say we go take a bath together and then watch some bad tv?” I smile down at him and wiggle my eyebrows at him.

“That sounds wonderful,” he chuckles and gets up from the floor, reaching his hand out to me. 

I take his hand and allow him to lead me to the tub. We bathe and get dressed in comfy jammies and spend the rest of the night watching tv and cuddling.

**Tag List**

Henry Fanfiction: @astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Prompt screenshot:

"Let me go! Daniel stop it! You're hurting me!" She thrashed underneath the well built body of the boy that, until a few minutes ago, she'd had a massive crush on. She'd been so excited for this date, her last chance to shoot her shot at getting to know him and maybe being more to him than just a study buddy before they both left for college. She should've known it was too good to be true.

"Just hold still and let it happen Buggie. You'll like it after a minute." He wasn't even listening to her anymore, too busy using the knife he'd brought with him to cut her clothes away. She had several bleeding cuts already, and her blouse was in tatters around her chest and shoulders, held together by ragged strips of the once pretty pink silk.

"No! Help! Someone help! HELP!" She closed her eyes, trying to curl up, but it was useless with his body on top of hers, he was just too heavy to move. All she could do was lay there and hope someone could hear her screaming.

“No one’s coming, it’s just you and me out here. I’m gonna get what I want out of you one way or another, so you might as well just relax and enjoy it.” There was a venom in his voice that she’d never heard before. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was getting off on it. The thought made her want to throw up, but she couldn’t let herself get hysterical. Her momma had taught her better than that.

“Daniel stop!” She balled up a fist, intent on attacking him, whether he had a knife or not, but she never got the chance. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, pulled off of her by something she couldn’t get a look at in the dark. She didn’t stop to analyze it, leaping to her feet, grabbing her purse, and jetting off back toward the farm, fighting the impending panic attack the whole way. She didn’t make it more than twenty or so yards before that same something came up behind her and scooped her up off the ground.

“Breathe June Bug, you’re okay now.” Her brother’s voice in her ear and she dissolved. She looped her arms around his neck, holding him tight as she sobbed and shook, taking comfort from the familiarity of his smell and the solidness of his frame. He’d always been so much bigger than her, even before he’d grown all the way up and moved away. It made her feel safe, like she was walled in on all sides by warm blankets that could take a bullet and not even flinch.

“I’m sorry…I was dumb…I thought he liked me…” She thought back to her father’s advice about boys, and how Clark had always backed him up. He would always joke that he knew how boys thought because he was one and he thought like that sometimes too. She’d always just acted grossed out and tried to dismiss the image of him doing anything like that with anyone. He was her big brother, and big brothers didn’t do that kind of thing.

“Clark!? What happened?!” Martha came running down off the porch where she’d been sitting, waiting for her youngest to return from her date. She’d said that Clark was being silly when he said he was worried about her being out there all on her own, but now she was beyond relieved that he’d followed his instincts instead.

“Momma!” Clark handed his baby sister over to their mother, each stricken sob breaking his heart in two and filling him with rage. If he hadn’t already put that idiot boy in a cell, he would hunt him down and do something much worse. That wasn’t him though, and his family needed him, so he stuffed the anger down into that dark place in the back of his mind and followed his mother into the house.

The night passed slowly from there. Martha took her daughter into the bathroom upstairs and started tending to her injuries, which were thankfully few, and Clark settled down at the table in the kitchen, trying to calm his racing heart. He’d cut it so close. If he’d been just a moment later…

“Clark honey, can you come here, I need your help.” His mother’s voice caught his attention and he was up the stairs in a flash. His sudden appearance might’ve startled them once, but they were both far too used to it by now to react, which was a shame, because it would’ve been nice to have them gawking like idiots like he was when he looked into the bathroom.

Standing there, in nothing but her underwear and bra, was his little sister, fresh out of high school, barely legal, and his brain didn’t know what to do with that information other than to make him blush and spin around. His mother’s laughter released the tension he was feeling, but he didn’t turn around. He wanted to believe that his reasoning was just that he didn’t want to embarrass his little sister by staring at her underwear, but the tightness in his pants was making that damn difficult.

“Oh stop it, you’re acting like you’ve never seen a girl in her underwear before, and we both know that’s not true. Come on, I can’t get this damn clasp unhooked. That little bastard managed to bend it down into the fabric.” His sister’s heart rate picked up more and more as Martha spoke, ending up somewhere around the average heavy sprinter’s rhythm. There were times that Clark really hated his heightened senses, this was one of them. He didn’t want to know how her body was reacting to the idea of him literally ripping her bra off. He didn’t want to feel her growing body heat. He didn’t want to acknowledge the spicy scent of arousal that began to creep into the room.

“Please hurry. I just wanna get a shower and go to sleep.” Her voice was quiet, but it still held that same insistent edge that it had always had. She’d always been a little spit fire, even as a kid, and he was happy to hear that the attack hadn’t taken that from her. He’d seen so many women lose something similar in the attacks he’d been too late to stop and it would kill him to have his sister join that club. It took him another moment to master his body again, but he managed to turn and get close in to her personal space without embarrassing the both of them.

“Sorry June Bug, don’t worry, this’ll all be just a bad dream soon, and I won’t let anything happen to you until then, I promise.” He smiled down at her, kissing her softly on the forehead as he reached around her shoulders. He could feel her snuggle up to his chest, her body relaxing against him, seemingly uncaring as he wrapped his hands around the thin band that circled her torso and pulled it apart like it was a sheet of paper.

“There ya go, see? I told you he wouldn’t care. Come on now son, let’s leave her to get clean while you help me figure out how to kill the Thompson boy without ending up in jail.” Martha patted him on the shoulder as he smiled down at his sister, pulling him out of the reverie he’d fallen into. It couldn’t have been for more than a second, but to him, it had felt like so much longer. Her eyes were captivating. He’d never noticed before how green they were. At least four different shades of rich green swirled around in her irises, reminding him of warm summer days running around outside in the yard. The pat saved him before he could delve any deeper into what else they made him think of and he gave her shoulder a soft squeeze before he turned and followed his mother out into the hall.

“You can’t kill him ma.” He followed her down into the kitchen, the agreed on gathering spot for any family crisis. Martha reached into the ice box and pulled out two beers, passing one to him as she took the other and sat heavily in the chair across from him. She looks so frail suddenly, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“How the hell could this happen? She’s always so careful with boys. I’ll rip that little brat to pieces if I ever see him again.” She huffed out a breath, leaning heavily against the back of the chair as she swigged her beer. She was blaming herself, he knew it, and as much as he wanted to take that guilt away from her, he knew she would have to work through it on her own. His mother was far too stubborn to let other people tell her what to feel.

The sentence ‘please, babe, I’ve always wanted to try it’ and a pair of bright blue puppy eyes. Apparently, that is all it takes for you to agree to let your boyfriend tie you to his bed. You’ve never realized just how big a fan you are of hiding until right this second, when Mike finishes tying your ankle to his bedframe and looks at you. The look of curiosity and excitement in his eyes is so incredibly endearing that you almost forget to ask him in all honesty how he got the restraints he used on you if he’s never done this before.

“Eighteenth birthday,” he says. As it turns out, his friends thought it would be really funny to have him unpack a bunch of silly gifts in front of his parents, but they forgot to take into account the ‘Mike factor’ – his words, not yours. You feel they should have known better than to think the gifts would embarrass him, though. Like… You’re talking about the guy who took you to his parents’ place for the holidays, and when his mom walked in on you two getting it on, he just looked her dead in the eye and said: “And this is why it’s a good idea to knock before stomping into your son’s room.” You were mortified, of course.  

“Are you okay?” He asks as you’re on your way back from pushing that memory all the way down, because it sure as hell isn’t something you can use right now. You nod in reply to his question. You’re really just a little nervous, even though you know you can trust him. Mike straddles your hips, and you immediately try to raise your hands to touch him. Mike is grinning at you from above like an absolute idiot, which means you won’t be able to hold that scowl a lot longer. You can already feel the smile break through on your serious face.

“Don’t laugh at me, Mike.” You pout as you say it. “I just want to touch you.”

“But you can’t because you’re tied to my bed,” Mike singsongs, still smiling like a fool.

“You haven’t thought about what you’re going to do with me at all, have you?” You already know the answer; Mike is not a ‘planning’ kind of guy.

“I didn’t have to think about that,” he says. You don’t like the sound of that, if you’re being perfectly honest. “I can think about it now.” His kiss is soft, slow, and over as soon as you started to really enjoy it.

“I can do anything I want with you,” he continues as he kisses along your jaw to your ear, and down into your neck. Every time he comes across a spot that makes you gasp, he makes a point of lingering on it. Sucking, nibbling… And then he stops and sits up again.

“Or I can do absolutely nothing and just leave you laying here for a few hours.” For a moment, he tries very hard to look as if he’s actually considering it. “Nah, that would be a waste. I can hug you.” He wraps his arms around you as he says it, and just holds onto you like some sort of giant koala for a minute. You sigh, which is the only thing you can do to keep yourself from laughing.

He moves away to sit between your legs, still putting on a face like he’s thinking long and hard about all the possibilities. And maybe he actually is, who can tell.

“I could give you lots of kisses?” He falls forward, catching himself just in time before crushing you, and continues the path he was making down your neck. “Or I could lick you everywhere. I know you hate it when I lick you.”

“I don’t always hate it,” you say innocently. In reality, you only hate it when he jokingly licks your cheek in public. Or when he randomly licks kinda unusual spots on your body. Like your shoulder, completely out of nowhere?

Mike seems to completely ignore what you just said, and continues his musing about all the things he could do to you: “I could finally spend a decent amount of time with my favorite titties.”

Of course, he immediately comes into action on this one. He’s meticulous in his treatment, making sure to lick, suck and nibble on every inch of skin that can reasonably be considered part of your boobs, until way past the point where you’d normally be begging him to move further south. And by ‘begging him’ you mean ‘physically shoving him further down your body’. Which you can’t do now, because you’re tied to his fucking bed. No, today, your only option is to actually beg him, crying out as his tongue slowly draws the millionth circle around your swollen and sensitive nipple, and his fingers softly pinch the other.

“What? You want me to keep doing this? Ok!” You protest loudly, the noises that come out of your mouth are more sob than moan at this point, and you squirm, straining against the silky ties around your wrists and ankles.

“Mike, please, for fuck’s sake!” you cry out. “Please eat me out!” Apparently, begging works on him, because he makes his way down your body, dragging his tongue over your skin as he does – much to your dismay. At least Mike seems to be having the time of his life, so you’ll forgive the licking. This time.

“Whoa!” Mike sounds very surprised when he reaches his destination and runs his fingers through your folds. “You are super fucking wet, baby.”

“Ehh…” You can’t speak, you’re searching every remote corner of your brain for an excuse. Of course you don’t find one, because the only explanation you have for it is that, yeah, you’re absolutely turned on by what Mike is doing to you.

“You like this, don’t you?” Mike asks. He bites his lip, and looks up at you as he slips two fingers into your pussy. From the way he asks, you can tell he’s clearly expecting an answer, but you lose the ability to speak as soon as he curls his fingers inside you and finds just the right spot. The only thing you can do is whimper.

“See, baby, I don’t need your instructions,” he says as he moves his fingers exactly the way you want him to. His tongue hits your clit just the right way, and for a moment, you squirm and squeal – and then he disappears. Both his mouth and his hands leave you, and he leans over you again.

“Alright, baby, here’s what’s gonna happen.” Oh. Oh. That smug grin he’s flashing at you makes you weak, sends shivers down your spine in a way he’s never done before. It’s good to know that Mike gets cocky when he’s in charge, and that you like it. A lot.

“I’m gonna eat your sweet little pussy, and I’m gonna make you cum so hard you won’t even remember your own name, just mine.” You listen closely, failing every attempt to swallow down the lump in your throat. Part of you wants to yell at him to get to it, instead of talking all that talk, but you’re fairly sure you won’t be getting anything if you try that. You also know there’s a ‘but’ coming…

But you’re too late.

A firm hand covers yours and a heavy, hard body traps you beneath it.

“Don’t scream,” he says, “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You loosen your grip on the pistol and allow the hand to take it away. In the dark, you hear the thunk of the gun being placed on the nightstand.

“You could knock,” you point out.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“And yet, here we are.”

The weight on top of you shifts and you think you can just make out a small smile on his moustached face. You reach for the lamp, but he stops you.

“Leave it off,” he says.

“August, please,” you whisper. Your hands cover his whiskered cheeks briefly before he shakes you off.

“Leave it.”

He stands. You vaguely see his outline as he removes his clothes. He’s moving stiffly, slowly and breathing in soft grunts and rough exhales.

“How badly are you hurt?” you ask.

“Nothing so bad that a good night's sleep won’t heal,” he says, dismissively. Sometimes it scares you how easily and smoothly he lies to you.

“Then why are you here?” you ask with a rueful laugh. “The last thing you ever do here is sleep.”

You see his shape pause. You stare at where you assume his eyes would be, he needs to know you aren’t stupid; that you know this thing between you won’t result in a ring on your finger or a pretty white dress.

The longer he stands there unmoving, the harder it is to keep looking into the darkness. What is he thinking? You open your mouth to ask, but close it with a small shake of your head. It's not like he’d be honest anyway.

He starts to undress again. You lay back in bed. Does it really matter if he’s here to fuck you or sleep next to you? You’ll give him what he wants, you always do. You can’t help yourself.

He slips into bed, curling himself around your naked form. His hands begin a long exploration along your hip to your ribs and back again while his face is buried into your neck. You can hear him draw rough, ragged breaths, his mouth is so close to your ear, his lips graze along its edge.

Driven by a primal instinct, you arch your back, lean against him and open your legs in an invitation that needs no explanation. He doesn’t hesitate and quickly you feel the smooth, warm head of his cock sliding over your folds, gathering your wetness before sinking deep inside.

By the same instinct, you begin to roll your hips, relishing the feel of his length as your pussy glides over him. But his hand clasps your hip and holds you still, your ass and back pressed firmly against his chest.

“When I’m gone, I dream of this,” August whispers, “of being inside you.”

“Then please move.”

“No,” he growls, “I need to be inside you. All night.”

You moan and he throbs deep within you. His nose presses into your hair, his arms wrap around your chest, holding you tighter and tighter until you think he’ll crush you. 

“You’re so warm,” he whispers as he softens his hold on you. “I need you to keep me warm. I’m so fucking cold without you.”

You are more beautiful to him in this moment than ever before; naked and open, your body spread out across his bed, your smell and excitement seeping into his sheets. He wishes he could take a picture to capture this moment forever.

He doesn’t dare though, not yet anyway. One day you will let him, he’ll take baby steps. Having you completely bare and the lights on had taken a lot of finesse and being so close to finally having you, he was not about to mess this up by going too far too quickly.

Besides, he thinks as he leans over your body and holds his weight over you with an outstretched arm, there is something he wants more than a picture.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he says.

You avert your gaze from his and his cock throbs. God, he loves watching you squirm, loves watching you as your timidness and desire war for supremacy in your mind. 

“I want…” you lick your lips, close your eyes and blurt out, “you to have sex with me.”

Marshall shakes his head. “No, baby, you don’t want to have sex.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “I don’t?”

“No,” Marshall continues with a smirk, “you don’t want me to have sex with you. You want me to fuck you.”

“Oh God!” you cry, covering your face with your hands.

Cute, Marshall thinks, she’s so fucking cute.

“Say it,” he encourages.

He lowers himself until the coarse curls on his chest caress the sensitive and pebbled skin of your nipples. His fingers skim up the inside of your thigh, his touch leaving a wake of tight, tingling, goosebumped flesh.

“Say, ‘Walter, I want you to fuck me,’” he breathes into your ear, “Say, ‘I want you to fuck me until I scream.’”

Fingers dance over your slit, his thumb slides between your swollen lips to the slick and warm hidden skin of your pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, sweetheart.”

You groan and Marshall grins. Your skin burns with embarrassment but also arousal. 

“I can’t,” you practically sob.

Your core pulses, clutching at nothing, your desperation increasing as the roughened pad of Marshall’s thumb finds your clit. You hear a low deep moan and are shocked to realise it is coming from you.

Your thighs start to tremble as Marshall rolls your clit beneath his thumb. You’re gasping, each breath hitching in your throat as you teeter on the edge. Your nails dig into his shoulders as you grab hold in desperation. More, you need more.

She’s so close.

Marshall presses the pulsing and leaking head of his cock against your pussy. The soft heat of you is so tempting, he almost gives in.

Frustrated, he growls into your ear, “Tell me every dirty desire you have. Tell me every fucked up, filthy little fantasy that you dream about and I’ll make it a reality. All you have to do is say it.”

Your voice is so hoarse, you don’t recognise it as you finally relent. “Fuck me! Just fuck me, Walter.”

Still, you are curious, it is in your nature. So you sneak down the hall and peek into the raucous room. The sight that greets you makes you smile. The men are dancing like no one was watching, a bottle of something being passed between them, glow sticks stuck in helmets or held in their hands like microphones that two or three of them sang into. 

You watch a few moments, taking note of the differences in the faces and body language. You had been embedded with them for a month, seen them laughing and joking, but this is the first moment that you truly saw no lines of worry on their faces and no tightness in their shoulders.

A small glimmer of jealousy ripples through you. It isn’t that you resented the guys having a good time and relieving some stress, it is more the fact that you had no such outlet. You are the outsider here, the ODA was a tight unit that you would never be a part of. However, you would be leaving in a few days, back to the comforts of home, while these men would still be here for months, you know you shouldn’t begrudge them these rare moments of levity.

Sighing, you back away, leaving the men to their fun. You barely take three steps and you walk into what feels like a brick wall.

Two large and strong hands gripped your shoulders and stopped you from falling on your face. They turn you around quickly and you’re face to face with the Captain.

He stares into your eyes, studying you and you can almost see the calculations and assumptions he’s making. His fingers dig into the flesh of your upper arms, his grip is firm but not tight, still you don’t think you would be able to pull away if he didn’t allow you to.

Without breaking eye contact, he nods in the direction of the room. “You joinin’ the party?”

You shake your head. “I was just leaving.”

He lets you go. “Good. My guys need to blow off some steam. Can’t do that when they’re worried ‘bout slipping up and sayin’ shit that’ll end up splashed all over the papers.”

You roll your eyes. 

He lets out a grunt that is half amused and half annoyed. “You better get outta here ‘fore they notice you.”

“Have you forgotten that I don’t answer to you?”

“Have you forgotten that I don’t give a shit?” 

You open your mouth to retort but he gives you a curt nod and turns, swaggering down the hallway like he was John Wayne or something. You watch him walk away and not for the first take a moment to enjoy the view. He may be a bit of a prick to you sometimes, but the sight of his tight ass and thick thighs straining his camo pants and broad shoulders stretching his t-shirt, sure make forgiving him a hell of a lot easier.

Abruptly, he pauses at the door to his room and looks over his shoulder at you. “You comin’ or what?”

Heat floods your cheeks as you see him smirk at catching you staring at him. It’s also not the first time you’ve been caught checking him out. To be fair though, you’re fairly certain you’ve seen his eyes linger a little too long on your breasts before. You never called him out on it though, in fact, you kind of liked it.

You lift your chin and clear your throat before asking, “Where we going?”

His smirk grows. “To blow off some steam of our own.” He doesn’t wait for a reply before he goes into his room.

“Cocky bastard,” you mutter. You follow him, your curiosity getting the better of you once again.

He’s standing next to his bed, a similar bottle to the one the men had in one hand and two glass tumblers in the other.

“Close the door,” he says, that smug grin still on his face. He places both glasses on his desk and starts to pour.

You warily close the door and your skin prickles and a restlessness starts to build in your joints. You look around the room, trying to appear calm so Sy doesn’t notice your agitation.

“Is this how you normally blow off steam?” you ask. “Drinking alone?”

“Honest answer?” he asks, handing you a glass.

You raise your eyebrow at the amount he poured. Jesus that much would knock you on the floor. He sits on his bed, backing himself into a corner so his back leans against the wall and takes a sip of his drink.

“Off the record?”

You roll your eyes and follow him to his bed, mirroring his position on the opposite end and raise the glass to your lips.

“I usually drink with the guys for a bit then come in here and jerk off,” he says so deadpan that you gasp, causing you to inhale a not too insignificant amount of liquor.

You cough hard, tears coming to your eyes as you try and catch your breath. Sy’s large hand thumps you between your shoulder blades, then starts to rub your back.

“Shit, for a minute there I thought you were being serious,” you rasp out when it doesn’t feel like every breath burns your trachea.

“What makes you think I’m not?” he asks just as seriously as before and just as deadpan. 

He’s close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your cheek. The hand that was on your back is now on your shoulder, the tips of his fingers caressing the back of your neck.

You turn to look at him to gauge his seriousness. His blue eyes sparkle with their usual amount of mischief, but instead of the accompanying grin, the tip of his tongue peeks out from between his lips. It disappears into his mouth followed swiftly by his lower lip which he sucks on briefly then he drags his teeth over it before it returns to its rightful position.

You turn away quickly, your breath comes in hard. God, what would that look like? It’s not like you hadn’t been curious. You’d never seen a man do that before, not in real life anyway.

Equally as hard as your breath is the hand that wraps itself around the nape of your neck, the fingers working deep into the muscles.

“I have to go,” you say.

You stand quickly. Too quickly. The ground spins around you as waver and you throw an arm out to steady yourself with Sy’s shoulder. 

He stands with you, his hands firmly on your waist as he draws you close. 

“You don’t have to go anywhere,” he says roughly. He lifts your chin making you look into his eyes that burned with a fire that rivalled the one growing between your legs. “Stay here. With me. No one’ll notice, not tonight.”

He was so close, his warm breath tickles your lips and smells like mint and alcohol. You inhale deeply through your nose and smell soap, barely a trace of the usual hint of sweat. You study his features, something is different, there’s none of the usual traces of dirt or sand. You look down at his shirt, it’s clean.

Holy shit.

“You planned this?” you say. It’s part question, part accusation.

For the first time this evening he hesitates, his eyes dart away and licks at his lips. 

“So what if I did?” he says eventually, bringing his gaze back to yours.

“I’d say you were one sneaky and presumptive bastard.” 

“Sugar, you say the sweetest things,” he chuckles.

Scowling, you try to look away but he holds your jaw firm and walks you backwards until you hit the wall.

“Don’t fuck with me li’l girl,” Sy says in a voice as rough and jagged as gravel. “I’ve seen you watchin’ me, eye-fucking me, pressing my fucking buttons. You knew what was gonna happen when you walked in that door tonight, don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Maybe I just like riling you up,” you say, pushing your hips into his. “Maybe I like knowing that when you blow off steam, you’re thinking of me.”

“Now who’s bein’ presumptive?” Sy grins.

“I’m not wrong though. Am I?” It’s a stab in the dark really, but as you slowly sway your hips, and brush against the front of his pants Sy clenches his jaw. 

“Not one bit,” he admits through his gritted teeth.

“Show me then,” you say.

Sy’s brows draw together and he leans his head back. “Show you what?”

You reach between Sy’s legs, palming him gently until you find him. You cage his cock with your fingers and press against his semi-rigid length with the heel of your hand.

“Show me how you blow off steam, Sy.”

“You fucking with me?” he asks, cocking his head.

You shake your head. “Not one bit.”

“You wanna watch me jerk off?”

“Uh huh. You’ve made me curious.” You press your hand against him again and you grin when you feel how much quickly he’s thickening in his pants. “Seems you like that idea too.”

He groans and leans into you, rubbing himself against your hand. Then your eyes widen as he reaches between your legs. Your breath leaves your lungs in a rush as his palm presses directly over your clit.

“I was thinkin’ more along the lines of us blowin’ off steam together,” he says, resting his forehead against yours, your noses touching, your lips a hair's breadth away from his.

“We can,” you say softly, your lips so close to his that your lower brushes the whiskers on his chin, “I’ll let you watch me, if I can watch you.”

Sy’s chest works hard as he thinks it over. He takes half a step back and runs his eyes over you, then closes the distance again.

“Okay,” he says, “but I want to see everythin’, no clothes on, no hiding.”

You slip out from between Sy and the wall. He says nothing, but he follows you as you back away until your legs hit the edge of his bed. Although your heart is working overtime and you can feel its pulse everywhere, its strongest between your legs. You want this, want to see the man in front of you on equal footing with you for once. No more of this power play between you, he’d be as vulnerable as you are.

Without overthinking it, you lift your shirt over your head and stare at Sy as you reach behind your back and unclasp your bra.

Sy curses and starts to toe off his boots while pulling his shirt off. It was a race to the finish, and it wasn’t long until you’re both standing naked in front of each other. Sy’s eyes are wild as he takes you all in and his hands work into fists at his sides. You take the time to look at him too from the vast expanse of his chest and the thickness of his shoulders and arm to the way his body tapers to his waist. Your cheeks burn as your gaze drop lower and see his cock, thick, smooth and so fucking hard.

Sy moves, taking your jaw in his hand he kisses you, his lips hard against yours. His arm works its way around your back, drawing your body close to his while his hand grabs a handful of your ass. 

You turn, repositioning the both of you until Sy is back up to the edge of the bed and you keep leaning into him until he takes the hint and sits, pulling you down with him until you’re sitting astride one of his thighs. He takes you with him as he climbs onto the bed. Your tight and pebbled nipples graze his chest and your pussy drags over his thigh as he gets comfortable and rests his back against the wall. The feel of his hard muscle and sparsely haired skin against the hot and wet skin between your legs makes you moan.

His mouth is on yours again. His lips work against yours, nipping, licking and sucking, while his hand works its way down your neck to your breasts. He groans and digs his fingers into the soft flesh, his palm rubbing and massaging.

You push against his shoulder that is all bulky muscle, and pull away from his kiss. His eyes are wild and hungry as he moves to follow your lips.

“No,” you say, lifting your head away from his advances. 

He growls and the arm around your waist tightens, his fingers are bruisingly deep into your hip. 

“Show me,” you whisper.

Taking his hand off your chest, you place it around his cock. Then you lean back, resting your weight on outstretched arms behind you. You rock your hips slowly, dragging your throbbing and wet pussy over his thigh, grinding your clit against him..

“Oh Jesus,” he groans, “fuck that’s… Oh fuck.”

His eyes are feral as he looks over your stretched body like he can’t decide where to look. His hand starts to move while he rakes you, his fist stroking up and down the length of his cock. Part of you longed to touch it, to feel the skin that looked so soft while it slides over the hard, thick core beneath. 

But watching him touch himself is enthralling. He is brutal with himself, his fist slapping hard against his body on the downstroke and his hand chokingly tight on the upstroke. His voice rumbles in his throat, sounding almost like a constant purr.

His free hand is on your ass again, helping you along as you rub yourself against his thigh. You’re so wet, your arousal glistens on his leg and you can hear the wet sounds of your pussy as you slide over him. Your thighs tighten around him as they start to shake, you’re not going to last much longer, the feel and sight of him is just too good after all this time.

“Come ‘ere,” he says hoarsely, wrapping an arm around you until your body is flush with his. 

Your knee brushes against his sack and he lets go of his cock a moment to clasp your thigh drawing you close until your thigh is almost crushing him. His hand reaches for your nape and pulls your panting mouth down to his, and taking advantage of your parted lips he slips his tongue between them to stroke, massage and explore.

His thigh falls away and you whimper at the loss until you feel his palm cupping you. The roughened texture of his hand feels even better and your arms encircle his neck as you kiss him back and slide your tongue over his.

“Oh fuck,” you cry as one of his thick fingers slips inside you and immediately curls. 

The pressure feels so good that you cover his hand with yours and push another of his fingers inside you before you tighten your legs until you trap his hand and roll your hips over it.

“That’s it, baby,” Sy encourages, “Use me. Make that tight li’l pussy come all over my hand.”

You shake, your whole body trembles and tightens as you breathe hard into Sy’s mouth. His pupils are so big, his eyes look as dark as the ocean at night as he stares up at you. His free hand moves to your chest, seeking out your nipple and rolls it between his fingers. You shiver at the feeling and your nerves are on fire as it moves through your body and slams into your clit.

“Harder,” you gasp.

Sy takes your tight little bud and pinches, before giving it a jerking twist. You bite down on his lip as your body shudders and your pussy starts to throbs sending pulses of heat ripping through your body.

“Fuck yeah,” Sy growls as he watches you cum, hardly feeling your teeth in his flesh. 

He waits for your body to go lax before he moves and lays you on your back. He grabs his cock again and resumes his brutal beating as he holds himself over you, watching you bathe in the afterglow.

“Where do ya want it?” he asks in a voice that’s thick and guttural.

You shake your head. “Wherever you want,” you say, breathlessly. “My face. My tits. My cunt. Anywhere. Everywhere.”

Sy lets out a string of curses, his hand moving so quickly it’s nothing but a blur. You lift your knee until it presses against his balls again. His eyes go wide and raising himself to his knees he frees his hand to hold you to him. 

“Fuck!” he bellows, his face going red as the first hot jet of his release splashes over your neck and chin.

He grins, and half chuckles as his body jerks with each stuttering release as he paints your body with white ribbons. He squeezes himself, forcing the last of his cum to leak out slowly over your pussy.

He stares at you, his face still split into such a wide smile, that it makes you giggle too. He chuckles freely as he reaches between your legs and using his thumb, spreads his cum over your pussy.

“Stop that,” you laugh as he brushes your still sensitive clit.

“Shit baby, look so fuckin’ pretty right now.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Uh huh. How about cleaning me up?”

He leans over and grabs a small hand towel from the footlocker of his bed and starting at your chin, he carefully wipes up.

When he’s done, he cups your cheek and kisses you. It’s nothing like the kisses he’d given you up until this point. It was soft, gentle, almost loving.

When he pulls away he looks at you expectantly, like you’re supposed to say something, but you’re at a loss as to what he wants. He doesn’t seem to mind though because he lowers his head and kisses you again.

You wait for him to break the kiss again and throw your legs over the edge of the bed.

“I should go,” you say.

Sy’s hand grips your shoulder and pulls you back down. “Stay. Sleep here.” 

You start to protest but Sy is suddenly on top of you, silencing your objections with a deep, hard kiss.

“Stay,” he says and you stiffen at the command in his voice.

He must have felt your reaction because his next word is softer and more of a plea.

“Please.”

You’re going to have to meet him again, he is holding back information, you’re sure of it. The chatter had been building to a crescendo, someone is planning something and you’re sure the asset knows more than he’s letting on.

The assets' pale balding head peers back at you from the photograph that had been taken of him way back before you started to build a relationship with him. He creeps you out, well over 20 years older than you, he looks at you like he’s undressing you every time you meet. You feel like he strings you along with little tidbits just to keep you coming back and you’re starting to think he’s a dead end.

“Staring at his picture won’t make him talk.”

You jump, startled by Special Agent Walker's appearance. Dressed as he always is in a plain muted suit, he has a mug of coffee (you assume) in his hand and he sits next to you, plucking the file from your hands and opening it on the dining table in front of you.

“Any suggestions?” you ask.

“Possibly,” Walker says, the corner of his whiskered mouth lifting with a knowing smirk.

You purse your lips. Walker always looks like he knows something you don’t, you’re about to ask him what it is when he continues.

“I’ve been told to hurry you along. Langley believes he has information about a high value target and our window of opportunity is closing swiftly.”

Huffing with disgust you say, “I’ve done everything I can besides take my clothes off to get him to give up more information than we already know. I think he knows nothing. I think he’s full of shit.”

Walker shakes his head, “Langley disagrees. They think he might be involved in some way and is trying to avoid implicating himself.”

“I’ve told him we will look the other way on the shit he’s into if he can lead us to the target, or at least give us something we don’t already know.” You shrug and lean back into your chair, waving your hand over the file. “Like I said, I’ve given him every assurance, dangled every carrot, and he gives me nothing. I’m at a loss.”

Walker hums, turning a page, “Maybe it's time to stop dangling the carrot and let him have it.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

Walker doesn’t answer immediately. He finishes reading, then closes the file smoothly. He turns in his chair so he’s facing you and his knee brushes against your thigh, while he takes a moment to assess you.

“You said you’ve tried everything except taking your clothes off,” he says, the smirk reappearing on his lips.

“That’s not happening,” you say dismissively, but your cheeks burn at his suggestion.

Walker nods, a faux frown plays on his lips. “Did you read the brief?”

“Only a million times.”

Walker makes a gesture towards the folder on the table. “The initial report, second page, about a third of the way down.”

Sighing, you drag the file back in front of you and flip it open. Walker’s knee presses against your thigh as he puts his arm around the back of your chair and leans in to read over your shoulder.

“There,” he says.

You start to read, impatiently, “The subject is known for many clandestine relationships outside of his marriage. He tends to favour women who…” you trail off as you realise the description of his type of woman is basically a description of you. You keep reading in silence. 

…At least one of his former lovers was a British Agent and seeing as the subject was prone to “pillow talk”, it had proved an effective way to gather intelligence…

“Miss that part in your millions of readings did you?” Walker says in your ear. “Why do you think you were put on this case, hmm?”

The arm that rests on the back of the chair now rests on your shoulder and he starts to stroke your neck. His other hand rests on your knee, his fingers edge beneath the hem of your dress, inching their way up your thigh.

You can barely breathe, the realisation dawning on you that he’s right. You thought you were being rewarded for good work with lower level assets. Embarrassment creeps in, the old imposter syndrome that you had convinced yourself wasn’t an issue begins to rear its ugly head.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

Walker moves closer, his breath is warm on your neck, his fingers have worked themselves halfway up the inside of your thigh and they pause to caress your sensitive delicate skin.

“You can,” he whispers back, “I know what’s stopping you. Why do you think I was put on this case?”

Your chin trembles and you try to swallow down the lump rising in your throat. “This was the plan the whole time?”

“A contingency that Langley has decided to implement to hurry things along.”

Shaking your head, you flick his hand away from your thigh. “I can turn him without having sex with him. Give me a few more days.”

Walker grabs your jaw, his thumb and fingers dig painfully into your cheeks and he makes you look at him. His eyes are blazing with lustful impatience. He’s been waiting for this you realise, he’s been waiting for you to fail, waiting for the go ahead to take you.

“You don’t have a few days, princess. You have tonight,” Walker says in a gravelly and thick tone that doesn’t hold so much as an inch of empathy. “You have a choice. You can open your legs for me like a good girl and I’ll make your first time as pleasant as possible and believe me, I can make it very pleasurable. Or, you can let an ugly, skinny, limp dicked asshole, that doesn’t even know your real name, uselessly pound your sweet, tight, virgin pussy until his cum dribbles into your ruined little hole.”

“And if I refuse both options?” Your voice quivers as you ask the question because deep down you already know the answer.

“You’ll be out. A burn notice will be issued within the next hour.”

Icy fear blooms in your chest and your blood runs cold through your veins. Burn notice. Not only will you be out of the agency, but no self respecting private security firm would take you either. The whole industry would be closed to you. Everything you worked for would be taken from you within the hour.

Closing your eyes, you coldly try to rationalise the situation, weighing up the pros and cons. 

What is virginity anyway? Your hymen was well and truly worn away by now. You’ve had a wide selection of toys inside you. A couple of guys had fingered you in college and it wasn’t as though you were saving yourself for marriage or anything. Your lack of sexual experience is due to not having the inclination to find a partner who you wanted to sleep with rather than any real moral objection. 

There would be worse men to sleep with than Walker. He is attractive, even if he’s normally a little standoffish. He boasts about making it feel pleasurable doesn’t seem to be without merit; you can’t deny that his fingers which are circling their way up your inner thigh again do feel nice.

You open your eyes slowly and determinedly set your jaw. You lick your lips and take a breath to give your tepid consent, but nothing comes out. 

Walker seems to understand though, his hand holding your jaw softens and slides down to your neck. He uses his grip to draw you close enough to brush his lips over yours.

Whiskers prickle against your chin and warm, silky lips stroke yours, capturing first your lower lip then your top in a gentle nip.

“Relax,” he whispers against your mouth. His breath heats your lips and smells of mint and coffee. 

As he resumes his kiss, a light tickling sensation begins on your inner thigh, picking up where it had left off. Soft circling fingers draw an invisible spiral on your sensitive skin as it inches its way towards the apex of your thighs. It feels nice, gentle and tender, and against your will, your skin tingles with warm anticipation.

Hot velvety strokes of his tongue tease your lips, probing softly where they meet, silently urging you to open. He’s patient, easing back before trying again, all the while his thumb strokes your throat and fingers caress higher and higher up your thigh.

Maybe it is primal instinct, or perhaps you simply surrender, but you part your lips. His tongue slips into your mouth with a hum of approval. He strokes, massages, and sucks, encouraging you to reciprocate, but you can’t. While his touch is seductive, your heart beats faster and your body warms as your body begins to throb, you feel detached. It’s like he’s doing things to you and your body reacts but your mind is somewhere else recording your involuntary, mechanical reactions.

The ghosting circular caresses get larger, reaching high enough for a knuckle to brush over your panties. Dispassionate curiosity keeps you unmoving as his hand sweeps over your thigh again, this time a finger traces the edge of your panties, following its curve before resuming its path. 

He brushes over your panties again, floating over your slit and grazing your clit. A deep thrum begins between your legs and vibrates hotly through your nerves, and settles in your breasts making your nipples ache as they grow tight and harden. 

Your detachment shatters. You break his kiss with a cry and force your knees together, trapping his hand between your thighs and halting his advance.

“You were doing so well, princess,” Walker says, with a thicker and less gentle voice than before. 

You scowl at him as he tries to pry your knees apart with his free hand. It’s not anger that makes you protest; it's the fear that grips your heart with its icy fingers as you see the burning lust in his eyes. He isn’t just doing this for the mission, he’s doing this because he wants to and somehow that is so much worse.

You try to stand and run, but he’s too quick for you. He captures your wrists in one hand and roughly uses his body to get behind you. He thrusts his groin against your ass, and bends you over the table, trapping you like a pinned butterfly by your hands and his chest pressing against your back.

“Be a good girl and don’t fight it, because I’ll take you the hard way if I have to,” he growls in your ear in a tone that suggests he might enjoy that even more.

“Please,” you rasp weakly. “Please don’t…”

A rough hand bunches your dress up to your hips then rubs over the soft flesh of your thighs. You try to close your legs but he inches his feet between yours and forces them apart. He licks the shell of your ear before taking your earlobe into his mouth and sucks. Heat flows through your veins again, your nerves electrify while you twist and fight against his iron-like grip and heavy weight.

“Are you getting wet for me, princess?” he asks, mockingly rubbing himself against your ass.

“No!” you protest louder and with more conviction, hoping the forcefulness of your response covers for your lie because despite your fear, and you are afraid, your body is undoubtedly aroused and growing more so with every passing second.

“No?” Walker asks. “Are you sure?”

Embarrassment makes you drop your head to the table with a feeble whimper. Why is it that his smug mocking makes you even more aroused? You’re hot and slick beneath your panties and everytime Walker grinds himself against your ass, the fabric of the gusset clings to your sticky lips.

“Are you sure? I think I should check,” he says as his fingers hook the edge of your panties and peels them away slowly. 

Walker’s fingers easily slide over your pussy. You bite the inside of your cheek to try and stop the moan that hurtles up your throat. You try to fight against him, but he’s got you trapped as his fingers stroke and probe between your legs.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking wet,” he mutters throatily, as though he’s talking to himself. Sounding almost amazed, he adds, “You like this.”

Humiliated, you let out a soft cry. You do like it. You like the way he’s touching you even better now than when he first started. His weight pinning you to the table is strangely comforting, and knowing you can’t fight him off is embarrassingly arousing.

He spreads you open and a finger teases your entrance. You hold your breath, your whole body clenches anticipating pain. But he’s gentle as he slips a finger easily inside you and lets out a hard amused breath into your ear and you can imagine the smug grin on his face.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he slides his finger back and forth, each time at a new angle as if he is searching for something. He moans softly as he kisses your neck, sucking and biting hard, such a contrast to how gently his finger explores.

He adds a second finger, you cry out again as he stretches you and you clamp down hard as if you could push him out. He groans in response, his voice erotically guttural, powerful and raw as he growls out, “Your pussy is so fucking tight. So fucking hot.”

His fingers curl and you gasp. It already felt so good, but now there is a pleasant pressure building deep in your gut. Your core throbs and you tighten around him even more and your eyes widen in horror as you realise what is happening.

“No, no, no,” you protest as your thighs begin to shake. 

Tears well in your eyes as your body grows incredibly taut and torrid heat gathers between your legs. You pull on the hand holding your wrists and manage to get one free. You cover your mouth, trying to suppress your cries as your body surrenders to searing heaves of euphoric release that leave your skin tingling and your muscles quivering.

You’re still high, heady and weak from your orgasm as Walker pulls your panties down your thighs. Somewhere in your mind you think you should fight him because you know what's coming next, but your body feels so good that you also crave more. So much so that when Walker takes your hips and turns you before snaking an arm around your waist, you docilely let him lift you onto the table and stand between your bare legs.

Heavy lidded you watch him quickly undo his belt, his movements are a frantic indication of his desire. When he lifts his eyes as his pants drop to the floor your breath catches in your throat. Untamed and bestial lust twists his features, curling his lip and narrowing his cobalt stare.

“Please,” you murmur, the words spilling from your lips without any understanding of what you’re begging for.

Walker bares his teeth with a savage grin and growl, and reaches between his legs. He’s soft and blunt as he drags himself over you, coating the head of his cock in your slick arousal. Your mouth opens and you take a stuttering breath as he positions himself at your core. His arm draws your body close to him as he slowly pushes into you, his eyes dark and wild.

Pressure like you’ve never known makes your core spasm and strain and though you put a hand to his chest to try to slow him down, he doesn’t stop his unyielding intrusion. You think you should want to scream, cry, or at least protest, but your legs wrap around him, pulling him deeper until your bodies meet.

Twin moans float as they hang in the air as you both still. His breath saws in his throat as your every exhale comes out with a soft whimper.  No toy ever stretched you like this and you look down to see your slit bloom and spread around his thick cock. 

“Oh God,” you cry as your head lolls and falls back.

Fingers slip between your lips and pull on your teeth until your eyes meet Walkers. He watches slack-jawed and panting as your mouth closes over his intrusive fingers and the humiliating taste of your orgasm stings your tongue. 

With a growl he removes his fingers and covers your mouth with his, forcing his tongue into your mouth and sucking on yours as if to get a taste for himself. He grazes his whiskers over you, making your skin prickle. Your hand moves to his wrist and slides down his forearm and the powerful muscles dancing beneath his hairy skin feel so good you tighten your grip to feel then contract and flex.

He moves.

With fluid and deliberate rolls of his hips, he grinds against you. His mouth still covers yours and you desperately try to breathe through your nose and not choke on the scream that is poised at the back of your throat. His body moves with erotic grace, confusing your mind with every circling thrust. It shouldn’t feel so good, you don’t want this.

Oh but you do. You so do.

The familiar heat gathers between your legs and your hips, moving with him, chasing him, urging him to move faster, to give you what you need to fall into bliss again. You’re not sure when you went from passive recipient to enthusiastically compliant, but you’re definitely a desperately willing participant now.

Walker leaves your lips and kisses down your throat, groaning as he sucks bruisingly hard on your skin. He works his way to your ear, his cheeks burn your skin as your skin prickles and breaks into sweat.

“Your pussy is too good to waste on another man,” Walker groans. “You’re mine now.”

It takes you a moment to register his words, but when they sink in, irrationally your heart soars.

“All fucking mine,” he growls.

The heat of his breath as he rasps out the words in his harsh and rugged baritone send you over the edge. You clasp and grab at him, trying to hold on as your body shakes and shudders and you bask in that moment where everything all falls away and there's nothing except the surging tides of hot euphoria.

“Fuck,” he snarls, when you open your eyes.

He grabs your ass with one hand and hooks his other arm under your knee, spreading you wide open. He’s no longer grinding, now he’s pumping hard watching himself move in and out of your swollen and sodden core.

He cups the back of your head, drawing your mouth close enough to kiss as he chases his end. His rhythmic frantic thrusts suddenly stop as he lifts his head with a long groan and holds himself deep within you. You inhale a rough breath as he imperceptibly thickens and throbs, shocked that you can actually feel each pulse of his release as it rushes up his cock.

With a final sigh, he drops his head, resting against your lips. You kiss him there softly and your lips sting with the taste of his humid skin as sweat runs down his forehead and into your mouth. It should disgust you, but instead of pulling away you kiss him again before lowering your head and nuzzling into his neck. 

You both stay there for a minute while you catch your breath and try to process what happened. You don’t know what to think, it all happened so fast, and feels so confusing. Part of you knows you should be furious, but somehow you can’t seem to muster the anger at the violation when it felt so good.

His softening cock starts to slip from your core. When it falls you feel unbelievably wet between your legs. He came inside you, you hadn’t even thought about it. A small shiver tickles at your spine. Though your core aches, the thought of his cum leaking from you was so erotic that you almost want to reach between you legs and feel it as it slowly flows from deep inside you.

Walker raises his head, his expression as calm as you’ve ever seen and his normally turbulent eyes seem serene. The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s trying to smile, not smirk or sneer, but genuinely smile.

“I mean it,” he says, pushing errant hairs tenderly off your face. “You’re not fucking him. I’ll find another way to get what we need.”

From the look of grim determination that settles in his jaw, you have no doubts about his seriousness.

“Do I get a say at all?” you ask, your voice still trembling.

“No.”