The door slams shut behind her, the sound echoing through the empty apartment.

Natasha stands there for a moment, her chest heaving slightly as she catches her breath.

Her hair is damp with sweat, her face flushed from the mission.

But then, she sees you.

Her emerald-green eyes lock onto yours, and suddenly, she's moving.

In an instant, she's across the room, her strong hands gripping your waist as she lifts you effortlessly, pressing your back against the cold wall.

"Detka," she breathes, her voice rough with emotion and exhaustion. "I missed you so much."

Your thighs instinctively wrap around her hips as she pins you there, her body pressing you flush against the wall.

Her forehead rests against yours, breath hot against your lips.

"Eight months," she groans, lips brushing your jaw. "Eight months without this, without you."

Her hands slide under your shirt, calloused fingertips dragging up your bare ribs possessively.

Your fingers tangle in her red hair as she kisses you deeply, hungrily.

It's a kiss that says "I survived," "I'm home," and "I need you right now."

Her tongue dominates yours, claiming your mouth like she used to claim your body every night before missions tore you apart.

She breaks the kiss only to trail open mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks, branding you as hers again after so long apart.

Her hands are everywhere gripping your hips, squeezing your ass, sliding up to palm your breasts through your shirt.

"Natasha," you gasp out, your head falling back against the wall as she continues her onslaught of kisses and touches.

Hearing her name on your lips seems to make her even more frenzied, more possessive.

She groans against your neck.

She lifts you higher, your legs wrapped tighter around her waist, as she carries you towards the bedroom without breaking contact.

Her lips never leave your skin, kissing, sucking, biting as she moves.

Once in the bedroom, she throws you onto the bed roughly, climbing over you instantly.

"Mine.”

"Yours," you moan back, arching into her as she starts tearing off your clothes.

Her movements are rough, desperate, months of pent up need making her almost brutal in her hunger.

She rips off your shirt, throwing it aside before diving down to capture one of your nipples in her mouth.

Her tongue swirls around the hard peak, sucking it deep into her mouth as she bites down gently.

The sudden sensation makes you moan out, your hands sliding into her red hair as your back arches off the bed.

She pulls back only to do the same to the other side, leaving your chest wet and marked.

Once she's marked your chest, she moves lower, her hands pushing your pants down to free your legs.

She tosses them aside and spreads your thighs wide, taking in the sight of you laid before her like a feast.

She moans possessively, "God, I've missed this sight."

Natasha doesn't waste time.

She throws off her jacket, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it aside. Her bra follows, freeing her full breasts.

She unbuttons her pants quickly, pushing them down along with her underwear, leaving her completely naked and ready.

"Fuck—" You gasp, eyes running hungrily over her sculpted body, every scar, every curve, every inch of her that you've missed so desperately.

She's perfect. Dangerous. Yours.

"Natasha, please—" Your voice comes out desperate, needy, your hips rolling upward seeking friction that isn't there yet.

"Shh, baby," she soothes, though the darkness in her greens eyes show the tenderness of her words.

She's barely holding herself back.

She climbs back over you, her strong thighs spreading your legs wider as she positions herself between them.

"I've got you now."

She leans down, pressing soft kisses to your neck and collarbone as she rocks her hips against yours, rubbing her wetness against your own.

"Let me make you feel good," she whispers against your skin before capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss.

Her hands slide down to grip your thighs possessively.

She pulls back only to wrap one strong arm around your waist, lifting your hips up slightly as she settles between your thighs.

Her wetness glides against yours, a perfect fit after months of yearning.

She starts moving slowly at first, grinding her clit against your own, creating delicious friction that has you moaning into her mouth.

"That's it, baby.”

"Natasha—oh god—Natasha," you moan repeatedly, your fingers gripping her swea slicked back as she grinds against you with increasing urgency.

Every roll of her hips sends electric jolts through your core.

Months of loneliness, of cold nights without her warmth, are being erased with each deliberate, possessive movement.

"Please—" you whimper against her lips.

"You feel so good, baby," she groans against your lips, her voice shaking with emotion and need. "I missed you so much."

She starts moving faster, more desperately, chasing the relief only you can give her after being apart for so long.

Her arms tighten around you possessively.

One hand slides down to grip your ass, pulling you even closer as she grinds harder.

The other tangles in your hair, holding you in place as she devours your mouth with deep, hungry kisses.

She's not gentle.

She can't be.

She needs you too much.

"I love you," she pants between kisses, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."

She breaks the kiss only to trail open mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking and biting at your skin as she continues to grind against you.

You arch into her touch, your nails digging into her back as you pant out "I love you too," over and over.

The words are a balm to both your souls, healing the ache of separation.

Natasha's movements become frantic, desperate to reclaim what was lost….the connection only you share.

She shifts slightly, changing the angle of her hips so that she's hitting your clit with every grind.

"Fuck, I've missed making you feel good like this," she groans against your neck. "Missed hearing you moan my name."

"You feel so good," you pant back, one hand sliding up to grip her jaw, pulling her lips back to yours. "I waited so long for this—for you." Your hips snap up to meet her grinding rhythm, creating delicious friction between your wet cores. "Please, Natasha—I need you closer."

"I'm right here," she whispers against your lips, pressing her forehead to yours as she wraps both arms around you, holding you tight as she continues to grind against you.

Her kisses become slower, softer, but no less intense as she tries to show you without words how much she missed you.

Your bodies move perfectly in sync, like you never forgot each other's rhythm despite the months apart.

Natasha's strong thighs keep you spread wide, giving her perfect access to your center as she grinds against you relentlessly.

The sounds of your moans and wetness fill the room.

"You're so wet for me, baby," she pants against your lips, feeling how slick you both are from grinding against each other. "Missed how good we fit like this."

She bites your lip gently, then soothes it with her tongue before kissing you deeply again.

"Always wet for you," you moan into her lips, your hips rolling in small, desperate circles that have your clits rubbing together. "Only you—only ever you." Your voice cracks with emotion as you cling to her, your legs wrapping tighter around her waist. "You're my favorite place, Natasha. My home."

The words come out raw and true.

"Shh, baby," she whispers, her voice breaking with emotion as she buries her face in your neck.

She starts moving faster, harder, the sound of your wet centers meeting becoming almost obscene in its intensity. "I'm home."

Her lips find yours again, kissing you deeply as her hips snap forward, fucking against your core with building desperation.

"Cum for me," she commands against your mouth, her hand sliding down between your bodies to rub your clit in tight circles.

"Let go, baby. I've got you." Her voice is rough, commanding, the Black Widow you fell in love with.

"Natasha—" Your back arches off the bed as the orgasm crashes through you, your wetness spilling over as you grind against her hand.

Stars explode behind your eyes as you call out her name repeatedly.

Through the pleasure haze, you feel her biting your neck hard as she follows you over the edge, her own release drenching your joined cores.

You stay locked together for long minutes, breathing ragged and bodies still trembling as the aftershocks ride out.

She collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you, burying her face in your neck.

The room smells of sex and sweat and her.

-

You remember it like it was yesterday. Probably quite literally because it was yesterday.

As you and your friend entered the venue, you remembered how she told you that she knew the drummer and got a couple tickets for free. You ducked away to the bar while she trickled to the front to find a good spot. Walking towards the bar, you bump into someone, their ice cold drink spilling on your chest making you yelp in response. You look up at them, in unexpected shock, “Dude, what the hell?” You sigh, shaking the ice out of your shirt.

“You bumped into me.” The person says, matter of factly. You look at them to get a good look, greeted with deep brown eyes on the most gorgeous woman you’ve probably ever seen. Unfortunately her being hot didn’t take the red stain out of your shirt, but before you could complain any further she already walked away. You huff, grabbing napkins tv from the bar, forgetting the drink you initially had came for.

You walk back to where your friend is standing. Her eyes widen “What happened?” She asks. You roll your eyes, still making fruitless efforts to take the stain away. “Someone fucking spilled their drink on me,” You complain. “I just bought this shirt too.”

Before your friend can respond, she realizes the band trickling on stage and begins to cheer for them. You look up from your shirt, beginning to cheer too before immediately recognizing the guitarist.

“That’s her.” You say, leaning over to your friend.

“Who?” She asks.

“The one who bumped into me!”

“Holy shit. Ryujin?” She asks surprisingly.

You sigh. Of course she knew who she was.

“And she didn’t say sorry?” Your friend asks, rhetorically. “Huh. She’s usually super sweet.”

You just inhale in annoyance, not particularly caring anymore. You remember repeating her name to yourself in your head.

Ryujin.

During the entire set, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. You were almost certain she caught you staring a few times. You eyed the way she shook her head up and down, her shaggy hair getting in her face and sticking to her with sweat. You eyed the muscles in her biceps and forearms. The way they pulsed when she’d hit a certain chord. Particularly, you couldn’t help but notice her veiny hands. The speed at which her fingers moved every time she played a riff. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think she was blatantly attractive.

Ryujin.

At the end of the show, the band says their thanks and walks off stage, everyone else in the venue walking out as well. You weren’t sure why you and your friend stuck around until a shorter girl in all black holding drumsticks came up to the two of you.

“Jisu! It’s so good to see you!” Your friend exclaimed as she hugged what you assumed was the drummer friend she told you about. They catch up briefly after your friend introduces you to her. You don’t know how she met her or how she knows the band, but for a very fleeting second you thought about asking if they could introduce you to the guitarist too. Just for fun.

“You guys should come around back! We might get drinks later.” Jisu exclaims. You and your friend nod, following the drummer backstage.

You stand off to the side when your friend sees the band, but in a quick glimpse you see the guitarist in a corner. She’s wiping her guitar down and putting it back in the case. She catches your gaze and you immediately avert your eyes, turning your head.

“Hey.” She says getting up. She points, “It’s you!” She’s standing directly in front of you now, smiling.

“And it’s you who messed up an extremely cute top and walked away.”

“You didn’t hear me.” She says, realization in her voice. You shoot her a puzzled look.

“What are you talking about?”

She smiles and you feel a butterfly or two. Maybe three.

“I told you to hold on! I went to grab a shirt for you but you already walked away.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Well you still–”

“Ruined an extremely cute top. Yes I know.” She sighs.

You fake a pout. She walks away for a split second and returns with a t-shirt. She holds it out with a smirk.

“It’s not as cute, but…” She trails off.

You hold it up in front of you, “No, this is sick.” You say in awe. The shirt had a drawing on the front of with the band’s name plastered on it.

“You think so?” The guitarist gasps. “I designed it! This was the first time we did tour shirts and I wanted it to be special.” She says, heartfully.

“No, I really like it. Thanks.” You say, genuinely.

The stain will probably come out in the wash anyway.

Having yet to stop smiling, she holds out her hand. “I’m Ryujin by the way.” You nod your head. Contemplating for a split second telling her if you knew that already. You decided to just tell her yours instead.

“Look uh… I think our drummer— Jisu was talking about going out later. Are you coming?” Ryujin asks. You didn’t want to lie, but an evening around your friend’s friends seemed like it would suck the life out of you– even if they did seem cool as hell.

“I see your face so I’m gonna take that as a no.” She giggles. “I planned on staying for the next band while they went out. You’re more than welcome to join me.”

You groan internally, not wanting to turn this gorgeous… beautiful woman down, but not really wanting to stay here either.

“And stand for another hour?” You joke, hoping to let her down easy. Ryujin persists.

“There’s a room upstairs.” She retorts, nonchalantly.

Before you can even refute, she's pulling you gently by the arm, “Come on. It’ll be fun. Their musics so good.” Ryujin pulls you towards your friend and the rest of the band.

You felt like a bit of a groupie, but the band didn’t shoot any knowing looks your direction when she told them she was staying behind with her “new friend” tonight. Your friend, however, smirks at you. You choose to ignore it, but also hoping it means something. Something. Anything.

They make their way out, going opposite of the way you were following Ryujin. Pass the bar, there’s stairs which to your dismay, had no clue about. She leads you to a room that looks down on almost the entire venue, you join her on the couch.

“How long have you been playing the guitar?” You ask. Out of nervousness, but genuine curiosity simultaneously.

She chuckles, probably reading your body language to a T. “Ouu. About ten years now I think.” Ryujin says, looking off to nowhere. You nod in impressment, “Yeah. I first picked it up in middle school!” She recalls.

You don’t know how much small talk you have left in you, but you remind yourself that you just met this girl and cannot throw yourself at her yet. Unfortunately.

“Why you sitting so far away, girl?” She smirks.

You fold your arms. “Don’t know if I trust you with that drink again yet.” You joke and she lets out a genuine laugh. You definitely felt more than a couple butterflies. Maybe in more place than one. She scoots closer to you, keeping a slightly respective distance but still draping her arm over the piece of couch that you're leaning against.

“Anyone ever tell you how gorgeous you are?” Ryujin asks and you roll your eyes involuntarily. She’s lucky she’s hot. You thought.

“You tell that to all the girls you get alone up here?” You retort. She scoots closer to you.

“Just the pretty ones.”

You scoff and she lets out another laugh. “I’m joking!” She says through a chuckle.

“I’ll have you know this is my first time here as well.” Ryujin adds.

Her leg brushes against yours and you felt your face and neck go hot. You can feel her eyes on you, studying your face intently.

“I meant it y’know,” She whispers, her voice coating the shell of your ear. “You’re beautiful.”

The feeling of her breath in your ear made your entire body shiver in reaction, your shameless arousal growing exponentially. You turn to face her, your face inches from hers. “Likewise.” You say, truly meaning it.

There’s a few moments of silence, Ryujin’s face so close to yours, her eyes lidded and visible even in the dim room. You decide to rip off the bandaid.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, voice low and wanting. She smiles, nodding her head as she presses her lips against yours smoothly.

Her lips are soft like you imagined. Plump and sweet with a hint of liquor, her mouth slightly cold from the ice. For a while it’s a tangle of lips together, wet velvety tongues brushing against each other with light gasps from the both of you. Ryujin licks into your mouth confidently, her hand wrapping around your throat as you moan in response.

She pulls back momentarily, her chest heaving and her forehead resting against yours. “Can I tell you something?” She smirks, her breath warm on your lips, just centimeters away. You nod.

“Jisu showed me a pic of you and your friend a couple days ago,” Ryujin whispers, “I thought you were so fine.” She places a light feathery kiss to your lips, one hand still on your throat and the other on your thigh. “Had to have you.”

You wanted nothing more than to sit on her face right now, but alas.

She grips both of your hips and the feeling sends shivers through the rest of your body. She pulls you gently by the hips, signaling for you to sit on her lap as she spreads her legs, all in one swift movement. You sit with your back against her chest, her hand trailing up and down your thigh.

“You okay with this?” Ryujin asks, her hands coming off of you briefly.

“God, yes.”

You have never been more okay with anything ever.

She bunches up your skirt so that your lower half is accessible. She rubs at your inner thigh, entirely too close to your core, making you whine and grind against her mindlessly. Ryujin decides to bring her other hand up to your chest, kneading your tit through your shirt. You moan incessantly as she finally slips her hand into your panties.

You lean, falling limp against her warm chest. Her long middle fingers drag from your entrance to your clit, slugging your wetness as she gasps softly. “So wet.” She murmurs.

You cover your mouth to stifle a moan and she almost immediately reaches up and gently moves your hand away.

“We’re all alone, baby.” She whispers, “I want to hear you.”

With her two slicked middle fingers, she presses gently against your entrance slowly to make sure that you were ready first. Your breath gets caught as she inserts her fingers into you, smooth and slick. You clench around Ryujin’s fingers involuntarily, but that feeling too made you mew out loud.

Her free hand goes to hold your hip in place against her, the contact making you grind against her, giving her the signal to move her fingers. She pushes them in and out of you slowly as she kisses your neck from behind, you tilt your head to give her more access. “You’re such a good girl.” She whispers, low, only for you to hear. You whimper as you rut against her.

You feel her fingers pull apart slightly, stretching you out more. She pumps you deeper now, doing anything to get you to make those sweet noises again. “F-fuck Ryujin…” You whisper. She smiles against your neck as she mindlessly picks up the pace.

“You sound so pretty when you say my name.” She mumbles against your skin, the contact from your ass grinding against her making her breathless too. You probably weren’t going to last long, being extremely on edge given that you’ve been resisting throwing yourself at her all night and because it’s been weeks since you’ve got some. You weren’t entirely sure if you were imagining this or not.

Ryujin fucks her fingers into you a little more firmly now, still keeping her pace. Her fingers curving a little once she reaches the base of her palm. You definitely weren’t going to last long like this. You felt your stomach tighten and your walls clench again. The only sounds apparent to you being the muffled music from outside the room, Ryujin’s light pants and the squelching from her fucking you. It was all too much, but so, so good. She bites down on your neck when she felt your walls squeeze her, “You close, baby?” She breathes. You manage to let out a strained “Mmhm.” Not nearly being able to form a coherent word right now.

She bucks her hips into you as she speeds her fingers up slightly, still curving them into you however. Your head falls back against her shoulder and you could hear her gasps so clearly in your ear. It only turns you on more. With a final pump into your pussy, you’re clenching her fingers with a death grip and whimpering like you were in heat. You squirm under her touch as you moan out entirely too loud. Ryujin’s hand never left your hip, her grip just tightening as she fucked you. You knew there’d probably be a mark there later, but the thought just made you more excited.

You catch your breath as she slowly pulls her fingers out of you. She grabs your hips and moves you up so she can move from under you. She helps fixes your shirt, “Are you okay?” She asks, gently. You nod in response, letting out a breathy yes.

“Can I return the favor?” You ask, moving your hands to her thighs. She catches your hands, holding them.

“No need.” Ryujin says, her eyes never leaving yours. “I uh… came already.” You blink. You’d be lying if you said that too didn’t turn you on.

“It’s been a while.” She said bashfully. You smile involuntarily.

“Shit. Me too.” You both let out a chuckle as the two of you fix yourselves up.

You sit in comfortable silence as the band finishes their set, her arm around you as you lean against her comfortably.

Once the set is over and people begin to pour out, she turns to look at you. “Give me your phone.” She says and you reach over and grab it from the table next to the couch, unlocking it. She goes to your contacts and puts in a number. She hands the phone back to you and you see her number with the name ryu:) attached to it. You save it immediately.

“I have to get going,” She starts, her tone unfortunate. “If you call or text me sometime, though… I’d love to see you again, yeah?” She says, bending down to kiss your cheek softly as she grabs her jacket.

You look up at her, a smile on your face.

Your neighbors are the worst.

Ideally when you found this apartment, it wouldn’t have killed the landlord to let you know the walls are thin here. Actually it might not even be that the walls are thin. It might be that these motherfuckers are so damn loud that no matter the thickness you’d still be able to hear the moans. The begging. Not even your pillows can save you because you swear they have a sixth sense for when you’re trying to drown them out.

You don’t even know these men but you know their names.

Who the fuck names their kid Wash? Or North?

Normally this wouldn’t really matter if you think about it. It’s just people banging each other. It happens everywhere in the world.

Normally it wouldn’t bother you in the slightest.

It totally shouldn’t bother you.

Except whoever is on the other side of your wall likes making the one named Wash beg. Loudly. And Wash likes to whine and whoever is fucking him (you’ve counted three names in their activities so three people) doesn’t even bother with a gag. It’s like he’s moaning in your ear when they go down on him or fuck him. It doesn’t even matter how thick the damn walls are, he's just that damn loud. 

The last two months you’ve been dealing with this.

And so tonight when you go to bed, you just pray that the three neighbors you have go to sleep too.

….

The mailbox is by far the most peaceful place in the building. You kind of enjoy making your trips there- it’s just a trip down the elevator and then a few turns til you get to the room where the mailboxes are. It’s normally empty so you have the room mostly to yourself to sort through whatever bills and credit card offers you’ve been sent.

Today there’s a man by your mailbox.

Your first mistake was thinking it’s the mailman when he’s obviously not in uniform. Your second is assuming he’s trying to steal your mail- but when you get closer to confirm you see it’s not your box that’s open but your neighbor's box.

The loud neighbors.

The sex neighbors.

Every hair stands on end.

The man is tall- blonde with pale skin. He looks comfortable as he sorts through the stack of envelopes in his hands the same way you do yours. He doesn’t even really notice you, which gives you a minute to look him over. Gym rat comes to mind first- the jeans he’s wearing look more painted on than anything. His thighs in particular have your attention when he shifts his position, making the denim move over them in a way that has you eyeing them more because you’re sure you’ve never seen a man with better thighs in your life. Or ass. He does have a nice ass.

You reach a hand up to press over your mouth- but that action has your keys jingling in your hand which gets his attention.

There’s no more time to oogle when the gym rat sex bastard turns around and offers you a smile. God, even his face is unfairly pretty. He has some shadows under his eyes but those blue eyes have you swallowing a bit. Was this York? Or North?

It takes a minute before you blink back into the conversation you were apparently a part of. “Huh?”

“I was asking if you needed to get to your mailbox. Am I blocking the way?” He rubs the back of his neck. The voice- it’s soft. He sounds relaxed if not a little sheepish. It’s still a toss up between York and North because their Wash is loud enough you could probably know what he sounds like as soon as he talks to you. If he ever talks to you. 

Instead of becoming unbearably annoying toward him you just nod and point to the box next to his. “Yeah. I’m unit 203.”

Surprise laces his features. Oh you want to become unbearable about this but it’s also unfair. 

This is one of three men.

Three men who made it an unknown mission to ruin your sleep schedule.

He seems nice and a little cute if you’re being honest- no. He’s hot. There’s nothing movie star quality about his looks, yeah but just being around him for a couple of minutes is enough to see why he has sex with two other people in his home all the time. 

Maybe it’s better if you don’t bring it up. If someone you didn’t know brought up your sex noises you think you just might swan dive off your apartment balcony. At the same time you’re almost certain that if they all keep making porn star noises next to where you sleep you’re gonna have to tell them to just start their OnlyFans and get you in on the money as compensation for lost sleep and a number of other problems accrued in the last two months.

By the time you even think to say something he’s saying a goodbye with a kind smile and you’re left standing there wondering if you just hallucinated him.

….

The drive home from the office is dull. 

The exhaustion doesn’t help really. Last night seemed to be the worst night yet by far.

Four rounds. The one named Wash was bordering on screaming.

What were they doing to him to get him that loud? Was it that good? Judging from the physique of the blonde man you met in the mail room it seemed like he had the stamina to keep things going unless they were taking turns-

You’re so preoccupied with trying to figure out the logistics of how your neighbors are banging that you barely heard a yell before noticing you were about to run a man over in the parking lot. The blonde looks completely hassled as the tires screech from how hard you slam the brakes- thankfully you don’t actually cause an impact with him but the expression of sheer anger on his face is enough for you to back up and go back to your parking spot you missed.

Shit, this was how you were gonna get evicted wasn’t it? Not from potential stalker or murder charges but almost committing vehicular manslaughter.

“I’m so sorry.” The word vomit comes before you think to stop it. “I am so sorry. I didn’t get enough sleep last night and my head’s been a little weird which is no excuse for almost running you over-”

The anger in the man’s expression dissipates a little at that and he clears his throat awkwardly. The tenor tickles something in your memory before he finally speaks.

“Don't worry about it.”

You almost drop to your knees.

You almost ran over the screamer from next door.

This is Wash. This is the man who might be singularly responsible for said lack of sleep if he didn’t live with sex fiends like the man from the mailroom. You wonder how he deals with it. His roommates? His boyfriends? They seem to be menaces. Horrible sexy menaces. Does he know that he’s that loud? Should you maybe ask them to keep it down? Part of you ponders if he’s bothered by the noise too until you remember that this is the one making the noise an issue in the first place because he’s the one who manages to drown out the bed banging against the wall.

There’s a deep part of you that wants to be honest but how the hell do you tell the man you know exactly what he sounds like when he orgasms?

“I-” You start awkwardly but something closes up in your throat. You can’t say it. “I really am sorry.”

He ruined your sleep and you’re apologizing?

“No, don’t worry about it. I have trouble sleeping sometimes too.” I bet you do is on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back to stop yourself as he continues. “It’s a small parking lot. I probably could have skated away if I had noticed you sooner.”

Skated?

Eyes trail down and- yeah. He has a skateboard.

And trash bags.

“You were… taking the trash out? On a skateboard?” You look back up at him with an eyebrow raised and the man full on blushes, rubbing his neck like he got caught with his hand in a cookie jar. It blows you over mentally. Now you see why they fuck him as hard as they do- each freckle on his face stands out when he blushes.

Something settles in your chest and you take a deep breath.

“Well.” He looks up- fuck. His eyes are brown. Finally you noticed the blonde hair and dark roots. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you let me know Wash.”

You turn on your heel before you see his reaction to it but two steps in he calls after you. “I never told you my name-”

“You didn’t have to!” You call back to him without looking. “I live next door to you!”

You just give him a knowing smile, flounce your skirts, and settle on the blanket beside him. His fingers tease the pale pink ruffles in the hem of it. “I didn’t think you would ever wear something so… delicate. I almost don’t recognize you without a shiny, metal can on your body.” His crimson eyes rake over your form, noticeably lingering on the skin that shows— your legs beneath your skirt, your forearms that dart from the short frilled sleeves, and your bosom that bursts out the top of your bodice. “…almost,” he breathes, eyes settling on the marks that have grown on the side of your neck.

One arm extends towards you. Your heart in your throat, and down you go, already laying alongside of him, sprawling in the sun and cradled by his arm. His cool breath wafts over your neck as he nuzzles your bite scars. “I only need a taste, I swear…” comes the age old request, his little ritual of asking each time, even if the answer is always the affirmative, whispered like a prayer from your lips.

His fangs sink in slowly, his skin warmed all over by the heat and radiation of the sun. You know, as your blood runs and courses through both your bodies, you know he actually feels alive.

He wants to live, and now, he feels like it—the bloom of life within from your blood, the blazing light of the sun on his pale skin.

It doesn’t take much to coax him, just a sweep of your hand across his lower back, and he’s on top of you, sucking loudly in your ear. That ruinous body of his slots between your thighs, and now you realize just why he had teased you so often to wear a dress for once.

His lips drink you down, but his hands, those cool, featherlight hands skate up your outer thighs. The whisper thin fabric of your skirt ghosts up more and more… until he’s rucked it up around your waist.

His voice tickles your ear as he moans into your neck. “Oh… darling, I can already feel how wet you are. All this… just for me?” Fingers tease your panties, right where your dampness gathers. “Such a display of carnal lust, you wanton minx. All this is mine… you’re all mine…”

“Hmm?” You pull yourself out of your hazy cocoon of bliss and warmth, your body growing warmer and more aroused by your lover’s weight and the sun’s heat.

“Say it,” he orders, punctuating his command with a roll of his hips into your mound, even as his fingers press that damp gusset of your underthings to catch you clit.

You loll your head back to center, opening your half-lidded eyes to look up at him. Sunlight glows like a halo around his silken, silver hair, making it hard to see anything of his face than the gleaming crimson of his eyes. Your answer bubbles to your tongue as you lift your hips. “I’m yours, all yours,” you breathe.

“If that doesn’t just warm my undead heart,” he purrs. “How about a treat for my treat… it is a summer picnic after all…”

His mouth presses sweetly and softly against your lips. Wet and insistent, his tongue presses between your lips, and you let him in. He squishes your breasts as he shifts his weight, his hands hurrying to free his cock as he just lowers his leathers enough. That warmed, blunt cock head teases your entrance, your panties barely a barrier between you; and it’s one he so easily conquers with a slight tug of his finger.

“There we go,” he purrs as inch by inch he fills you. He’s slow and tender, working inside you with gentle rolls of his hips. All is warm and heavy, full and undulating. His mouth is locked to yours, his cock buried deep in your sex. And you have to keep your eyes closed, the light of the sun almost as blinding as how brightly he burns for you.

Drowning in the rhythm of his fucking, you are swept further into your bliss with every roll of his hips. His cock, thick and perfect, drags across every inch of your cunt, catching those places that make your spine arch and your belly coil with heat. Hot within, hot without. He presses his heavy frame into you, driving you into the blanket and dirt. He groans in your mouth, the metallic taste of your blood still strong on his tongue. Wave after consuming wave, his thrusts snap against you, that addictive flesh-slapping sound muffled by your simple skirts. He grins, lifting your thighs to press them to your chest. Your cunt bare to the light and revealed to the sun, now his thrusts echo in your ear and down your spine.

He floods you with pleasure, all your skin exposed for his touch. His thrusts grow erratic, his breathing against your flesh ragged. He’s near, so near… just a little more and you know he will tingle with pleasure in his balls and warm with bliss from the inside out.

A roar in your ear, and he fills you, coating you with cum deep inside your cunt. It’s enough to make you tremble and cling, to buck and writhe as your match him in his climax.

Hot all over. And just as loved.

Your hands trace the scars on his back, thier rises and ridges familiar by heart. But for now, his skin’s heat matches the afterglow of that slow-rolling passionate love making.

He’s warm and sweet, mischievous and cunning…. And he’s all yours.

When you start your heat, hubby is a little surprised, since you never really let him see you in that state.

You're quite shy when it comes down to it, and perhaps even a little insecure. Of course, he would never let you feel like that for long; he'll lick your body up and down, whispering reaffirming words about how he only wants you and no one else.

So, naturally, when your heat does arrive, he vows to be supportive and alleviate the stress of feeling so vulnerable.

Well, that is until he catches a whiff of you; his mind immediately going into "I must breed my wife" mode; however, for your sake, he tries to keep himself together, repeatedly telling himself that your heat is only a few days long.

He does, of course, help with your physical needs; he can't resist you that much, but he's gentle. Much to your disappointment.

You're too shy to tell him you need more, and he's too worried to unleash his full need for you, instead humping the pillow on your couch during the night when you sleep.

By the third day, he couldn't take it anymore. He's tried holding back; he's tried fucking you gently so you'll cum and calm down for a while, but that's not what he wants; hell, it's not what you want either.

When the evening comes around and he helps you cum again, using nothing but his tongue, instead of stepping away to let you fall asleep while the heat is low, he positions himself between your spread thighs, his cock resting on your lower abdomen.

Without too many words between you, he thrusts inside, not even giving you the courtesy of adjusting. Instead, he sets a punishing pace, the tip of his cock forcing itself against your cervix over and over, making you mewl and purr at the same time.

He's rutting into you over and over, changing positions as he goes. First it's missionary, since you were laying in bed anyways, then he fucks you from behind, but by the end he's got you in a mating press, cum gushing out, but oh, he's not stopping, and you're not that bummed out about it either.

He keeps snarling something about you carrying his pups, but your mind isn't capable of thinking about much other than the way he fucks into your needy cunt and pulls on your tail while his thumps against the mattress behind him.

So, unable to look your rotten truth in the eye any longer, you let your gaze fall to the bartender. Her black hair was in a messy bun, and choppy bangs fell into her face. Behind the ebon curtain of bangs were bright eyes that sat encircled in shadowy, thick eyeliner. A metal stud affixed one nostril, just below a long, jagged scar. She was raw in her beauty, an uncut gem that made you yearn to cut yourself on her sharp edges. Her thin, pale frame was clad in a loose fitting flannel, clearly a man’s - you hoped it hadn’t belonged to a boyfriend - denim jeans, torn and barely clinging to her hips with a ragged gait belt. She had tied an obscure band t-shirt behind her, exposing the flesh of her midsection.

The same endless cacophony of rhythmic hard rock droned on behind you - you couldn’t name a one - while you watched for a stolen moment while the bartender skillfully worked her craft. She was master of her craft, serving up guidance in a frothy (if slightly filthy) mug, to those in need of spiritual healing that only booze could provide. You, yourself, had come here for the first time months ago, desperate for a reprieve from the stress of the big city. You’d stumbled in mind anywhere but the dingy bar that offered sweet oblivion from your troubles in the form of alcohol.

There, you’d found men and women, faces slack as they stared into the fogged mirror behind the bar, forgetting whatever trouble had landed them in those shitty vinyl clad stools. The Nightsinger dive had such an effect on people - it wasn’t a dive for the partying sort. It was a place for letting go of your troubles and drowning in the assurance that nothing truly mattered. This sentiment had resonated within you for all of five minutes; you hadn’t even finished your first drink when you really saw her for the first time. In the dark, broody dive bar, she was a flower, coming to bloom in the harshest condition.

You saw it in the smiles she donned when she thought no one was watching, in the hope that sparkled in her eyes when you opened the door, and slipped through its creaking depths, and in the fascination that filled her expression when you told her of your life outside of the concrete walls of the dive.

She never spoke about her own life beyond her frequent shifts behind the worn wooden bar, in front of the foggy depths of that damned mirror. For all you knew, she lived in the dreary place. Though it was a ridiculous notion. Still, she always seemed to be about. You’d never come across another tending the aged bar. An enigma, you spent many office hours pondering her, while filling out worthless report after worthless report.

Eventually you’d always find yourself back in this same, offputtingly sticky stool. You’d switch between staring ahead at your ugly truth, and the pretty bartender, as you were now.

“Tav?” You heard her ask when you’d drifted off into your thoughts. Your name on her cigarette stained lips felt like the hot dripping of lit ash onto your heart.

With a sudden jerk, your gaze was on her. Your lips drew into a gentle smile, while your eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Yes, Shadowheart?” You asked, quite liking the way her name tasted on your lips.

Shadowheart seemed to like it too, as you watched her pale cheeks fill with a light blush, as she looked down for a moment, smiling to herself again before pulling your gaze into her own again.

“I hate to be a bother, but I’m out of candied cherries.” Shadowheart said with a weary sigh. “They’re on the top shelf in the back stockroom. I just can’t reach. Do you think you could stay around until after close, and get them down for me? My boss hates when I leave the bar unstocked.” She asked, sweet as those same cherries.

You looked at your watch and saw that closing time was three hours away. You’d never stuck around until close - you didn’t want to be that much of a sad sack. But Shadowheart had asked you to. Surely you could entertain yourself for a few hours.

Looking around the bar, you saw that the small dive was clearing out. Only a few of the die-hard followers of the Nightsinger lingered, nursing their liquid oblivion. The music had turned to crooning, slow grunge, weepy and unappealing to you. It was like a lullaby at the slackening faces of the regulars you had come to know so well, to your chagrin.

“Sure.” You said, trying to hide your eagerness. Closing time is still far away, though. Why don’t I fetch us dinner, and we wait out closing time together with a good pizza?” You offered.

A look of shock on her face flashed briefly before she looked around the bar carefully. “I don’t think a soul here would notice, or care if I slacked off for the rest of the night. So long as I refill their mugs, that is.” She said with a smug laugh, “Besides, I’d kill for something other than stale peanuts for dinner.” She finished, glancing at the crusty peanuts that peppered the bar.

“Toppings?” You asked, reaching into your pocket to pull out your wallet, and close out your tab.

“Surprise me.” Shadowheart replied with a wink that did unmentionable things to your heart, and other parts of you.

An hour later, you returned, pizza in hand, and an even thinner collection of drunks within the bar. You laid the pizza out of the bar, sobering up quickly amid the greasy and cheesy ambrosia that was big city, late night pizza. The hours ticked by, chased with probing question after probing question from Shadowheart. She seemed intoxicated by the many stories you had of life in the city. It was a curious notion to you; wasn’t she from the city as well? It was strange to be with someone so enamored by what life could be like outside of the shitty bar you sat in.

Yet, no matter how many times you tried to rephrase your questions, the other woman dismissed you until the bar emptied around you. You checked your watch, fifteen minutes to closing.

“I think that’s close enough to closing time.” Shadowheart said with a sigh, sliding from behind the bar, key in hand, to the thick metal door to the underground bar. You watched her intently, gaze locked on that pale patch of skin, just above her ass, that was exposed when she reached above the door to unplug the open sign.

“Now to get those cherries.” You said cheerfully, rising from your stool, cracking your fingers.

“What?” she asked, incredulously, with a light laugh, positioning herself beside you at the bar.

“You said you needed me to get cherries down for you.” You insisted, gesturing to the stockroom door behind the bar.

“Tav, sweetie, have you ever seen a cherry in a drink here?” She said in a gentle mock, moving closer to you. “You certainly spend enough time here, watching. No doubt, you could make the drinks as well as I.”

You blushed, looking to the stained cement floor, where your business loafers were mere inches from her worn converse.

“I suppose not.” You replied, mouth drying out around the words. She was so close now, closer than ever before, her perfume permeating your senses, threatening to overtake your senses in primal desire.

“I see the way you look at me,” Shadowheart declared, swaying closer, so her denim clad thighs pressed against your frame. “No one has looked at me like that before.” She added, vulnerability clear in her voice.

“Like what?”

“Like you see me. Not a pretty face, but me.” She admitted, leaning one elbow on the bar, eyes holding a hint of a challenge, a hint of invitation.

“It certainly doesn’t hurt that you have a very pretty face.” You added, daring to reach forward and rest your hand on hers atop the bar.

“You’re not bad, yourself.” She said with a coy smile.

“I’d like to see more of you. Out of here, maybe?” You dared, brows furrowing as you feared rejection.

“Maybe.” She replied, in a cool tone, leaning closer to you, until her breath could be felt on the raised flesh of your neck. “Keep being such a good girl, and we’ll see.”

Swallowing heavily, you felt warmth flush through you. Speechless, you stared when she pulled away. She laughed, actually laughed, at your stupefied expression.

“You’re so cute when you’re turned on.” She said, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, making you blush even deeper. “I want you back here tomorrow. Same time.”

You nodded, concern about eagerness forgotten in the depth of her green eyes.

“Good girl.” She affirmed, bringing forth a level of arousal you didn’t think possible to your hardening clit. It was like she could read you like a book. When you brought your thighs together to dissipate the swelling desire within you, she looked down with a smug expression. When she looked up, catching your gaze on hers, she wasted no time in pressing her lips into yours.

She tasted like cigarettes, pizza, and cherry lip balm. You could get lost in it forever.

When she pulled away, you felt the arousal in you threatening to boil over into outright moaning with desire; but you composed yourself.

“Tomorrow.” You repeated when you removed your hand from atop hers.

Shadowheart nodded, turning her back to lean against the bar, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smirk on her lips as you left her to finish closing the bar. If you had it down bad before, you were hopeless now.

When you were back in your clean bed, in your sterile apartment, you still felt the desire burning between your legs. It beckoned for Shadowheart’s attention, begged to be twisted and tied like the stem of a cherry under her sharp tongue. You couldn’t stop from bringing your fingers beneath your cotton panties, and finding that bundle of nerves that screamed for her.

“Good girl.” You heard her say in your mind, while you pictured her skillful hands exploring you rather than your own. A moan escaped your lips as you rubbed slow circles into the center of your clit. In your mind, Shadowheart pinned you to the hard surface of the bar, taking her fingers, one by one, until you were full of her loving touch and cooing words of affirmation. You would be a good girl for her, you would be hers, drinking in everything she had on offer, until you were wasted on her personal vintage.

In mere minutes, you were climaxing around your fingers, mind firmly coiled around Shadowheart. She could have anything of you, and you’d be happy about it. Sleep was hard to come by as you grew aroused again, quickly thinking of what was to come the next day.

You had been a good girl; you were right where she asked you to be, when she had instructed you to be here.

Thighs stuck to the vinyl topped stool, bringing a sear of pain through you every time you shifted your weight. You’d stripped from your office garb the moment you were off the clock, changing into a jean skirt and a tight white tank top. A choker adorned your neck, along with a new perfume you’d been hesitant to use.

The extra effort into your appearance paid off in the dark looks Shadowheart passed your way every chance could. You couldn’t look any more different, as you sat there sipping your cola through cherry red lips, looking every bit the preppy city girl. She looked different today too; foregoing the usual flannel and band tee combo that made you crazy, she wore only a tight vest that showed her ample cleavage nicely. Her hair was in a neat braid, rather than the messy bun she normally wore while tending the bar, and her lips were adorned with a saccharine black that made your mouth water.

It frustrated you how much more male attention she seemed to get dressed the way she was. It made you feel even more disheartened when men would attempt to make a pass at you, right in front of her, and not earn so much as a glare from the woman, who seemed to possess such looks in spades normally.

As the hours ticked by, and chatter remained sparse between the two of you, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, contemplating crawling through one of the small windows, and leaving your foolish notions of holding a woman like that down, behind in the Nightsinger along with the many other memories surrendered there.

Washing your face with the cold water of the tap, you hadn’t heard the door open to the ladies’ room. You gasped when warm hands snaked under your shirt, settling on your hip bones, while another set of hips pressed against your ass, holding you in place.

“Does my good girl need a bit of attention?” Shadowheart asked, gaze catching yours in the mirror's reflection.

You blushed, looking into the shiny metal drain of the sink, breath coming shallow.

“You’ve made yourself so pretty for me.” She continued, leaning closer to rest her chin on your shoulder. Her body felt so good against yours, even when you were cross with her.

When you looked at her in the reflection, your mind fell to the night before, to your warm bed and the conjured images of her. Suddenly, you were blushing heavily, a deep breath rattling from your lips.

“‘What is it, sweet girl?” Innocently spoken, the words came while she ignored the hot breath on her neck.

“I…I can’t say.” You replied, embarrassed, eyes narrowing as you tried to push those thoughts away.

“You can tell me anything.” She said flirtatiously, “No one holds a secret better than a barkeep.”

You sighed, and shimmied away from her grasp, turning to face her, blushing impossibly hard when her hands shifted to lie on your ass.

“I touched myself last night thinking of you.” You replied in a shaky voice, to which she smirked.

“I know.”

Your eyes widened, before she pressed a gentle kiss to your red lips, then another, and then another, until you had properly ruined each other’s lipstick.

“I did too.” She said when she pulled away, “In truth, I have many times since you started coming here.”

You smiled, satisfied, knowing that your crush was mutual. It didn’t matter how many men made a pass at you. She knew you had eyes for her, and that was what mattered. Pulling her back into a hungry kiss, you felt her hands squeeze against your ass while she hummed in pleasure against your lips. When she pulled away, you offered big, sad eyes and a genuine pout.

“I can’t spend all night in this bathroom with you. There are drinks to pour, long-winded stories to tune out.” She said with a teasing smile, releasing you from her domineering grip.

You nodded, staying behind a moment to cool down when she returned to the bar. A hand through your long, unrestrained hair, and another splash of cold water to the face later, and you were back at the bar. Your thighs clung to the vinyl of the stool, almost as much as your gaze clung to Shadowheart’s breasts.

The hours slogged on, much as they had the night before, with the crowd thinning out as closing time lurched forward. Then, much like the night before, you were alone in the bar, and Shadowheart was locking the front door. Though, this time, she stopped for a moment at the jukebox, depositing a nickel, and joining you back at the bar.

Moments later, a slow, indie rock song, so unlike the dark, grungy rock that normally swelled in the somber bar, came on. You stood from the stool, meeting Shadowheart across the bar, a swell of anticipation filling you to near bursting.

“Are you going to ask me to dance?” You asked, holding a hand out to her.

“Something like that.” She replied, pulling you close to her. To the rhythm of the slow jam, your bodies pressed together, rocking against each other. Your stomach felt taut with desire, while your head swam in the burning luster of her eyes.

“When you touched yourself thinking of me, what were we doing?” Shadowheart asked, brushing your hair from your face in a practiced motion that told you she’d done this before; perhaps many times.

“Well, I…You know. The usual.” You mumbled, pressing your face into the soft flesh of her neck.

“I guess I’ll be using my imagination, then.” Shadowheart retorted.

You blushed, smiling against her skin. You fit perfectly against her. Breathing her in was the easiest thing you’d ever done.

“Though, maybe we can manage a bit more than imagination.”

With that, you felt yourself pulled toward the old pool table at the edge of the barroom. You’d never seen anyone actually even play with the damned table. A moment later, assured hands were on your hips, lifting you onto the felt surface, before Shadowheart climbed atop you.

“Was it anything like this?” she teased, leaning down to press a flurry of kisses along your sensitive neck. Following that was a careful hand, tracing up the inside of your thigh, to squeeze at the sensitive flesh there.

“Somewhat.” You managed as arousal boiled within your gut.

“Courteous of you to wear a skirt.” Shadowheart said with a smirk, while fingers slid between your legs, to trace at your lips from the other side of your damp panties. “What a good girl, making things easy on me.” She continued. Meanwhile, you were star-struck at the sight of her breasts, so close, and so tempting. They pillowed out of her tight top, teasing you while she prodded at your most tender parts.

You gasped when she rubbed your clitoris from the other side of the tight cotton panties, arching your back atop the felt pool table.

“Such pretty noises.” She affirmed, pressing her lips to yours as you reached forward to fumble with the buttons of her vest, obscuring her breasts from view. When you managed to open a few, she pulled away from your lips, looking down to where her braless breasts now swayed freely as she loomed over you.

“Naughty thing, you.” Shadowheart whispered against your lips when your hands found her breasts and massaged them. When you tweaked her nipples in between your fingers, she moaned into your mouth.

Fingers begged at the seam of your panties, slipping under the band, sliding them down your thighs, to hook around your trembling knees.

You continued to paw at her breasts, while her hands next came to your jean skirt, bunching it around your hips, leaving your cunt exposed to the still air of the bar. You shivered as Shadowheart guided her hand back to your wet pussy. It throbbed for her attention. Smirking to herself, Shadowheart seemed all too aware of this. You were whining for her, eyebrows furrowed and face contorted in desperate need. You wanted to feel her inside of you.

“Keep making those noises for me, sweet girl.” Shadowheart said, against the tender flesh of your neck as she dipped down to suckle at the tender flesh of your neck. Meanwhile, you continued your pleasured whines, while rolling her nipples between your thumb and pointer finger. Fingers danced along the edge of your pussy, teasing you incessantly as your face burned red with raw arousal.

“Please…Please…Please…” you begged, while her fingers traced your labia, teasing your sex and reducing you to a panting mess beneath her.

“Well, since you asked so prettily.” Shadowheart spoke with a smug expression before gently sliding two fingers into your dripping cunt. You gasped, reaching one arm forward to wrap around her form, balancing you beneath her. Your other hand still worked her breast, earning a pair of reddened cheeks from Shadowheart along with the occasion gasp of pleasure.

Soon enough, the pair of you were in a rhythm, as she pumped two fingers into your sex, while you let out a series of whines and gasps as she edged you closer to release. You couldn’t stop your legs from coiling around her waist, as your body tried to pull her impossibly close.

Both hands pressed into the smooth skin of her back, gently pressing against her softness while your body teetered closer and closer to coming undone beneath her.

“Are you ready for another one, Tav?” Shadowheart asked, looking at you with a challenge in her eyes.

Biting your lips, you nodded vigorously as she pushed a third finger into your pussy. You were tight; you’d never had much beyond a brief, inexperienced tryst. This was like nothing you’d ever experienced - and you wanted more.

Bucking your hips in motion with her thrusts, you felt her penetrate you in ways you hadn’t imagined in your most detailed dreams. Her gaze was heady as she watched your every reaction, measuring your whines, your submissive cries, and finding them satisfactory.

“You’re taking it so well, Tav.” Shadowheart praised, letting her thumb graze your clit as her fingers cast a spell within you. Suddenly, her lips her on yours again. You could taste the faint flavor of cigarettes and her cheap lipstick; it was your new favorite flavor. You felt the arousal swelling within you, unable to be contained further. Your body grew taut under the pressure of an impending orgasm. Shadowheart sensed it, pulling away from your lips, leaning in close to your ear.

“Be a good girl and come for me.” She ordered, gently.

You needed no further instruction, letting it all loose around her fingers. With a clenching sensation around her, you came in a tidal wave of ecstasy. Tears pooled in your eyes and fell, falling down your reddened cheeks as the pleasure completely overtook you. Quiet sobs fell from your form as you rode the height of the climax Shadowheart had given you.

When you settled down, breathing growing even, Shadowheart removed her fingers from your sex, guiding them to your lips. You eagerly sucked them clean, making unshakable eye contact with her all the while.

“I could look upon you forever,” Shadowheart praised, from atop you, fingers running through your hair.

“I hear the view is better from up top.” You offered.

“Is that so? I’ll have to see for myself.” Shadowheart teased, coming to a sitting position on your hips. She wasted no time in removing her pants, followed by a pair of lace panties. Soon, she was climbing your prone form, a flirtatious smile on her blush lips. You reached forward, greedily guiding her sex toward your waiting mouth.

With her sex upon your face, you couldn’t help but admire the dark curls that adorned her sex, and tickled your face as you pressed it deep into her. Your tongue found her clit, swirling lightly over the sensitive bud. Lightly, you suckled against it, while your hands found her hips. You smiled to yourself as your thumb grazed that mole you spent countless days drifting your gaze at.

“You’re doing so well.” She said in a breathy voice, clearly enjoying herself. From the swollen state of her clitoris.

You swooned with joy beneath her, pleased to perform well for her. Reverent strokes of your tongue against her flower conjured her hands, burying themselves deep into your hair. Her fingernails dug into your scalp, making you dig even deeper, putting everything you had into pleasuring her.

It felt as though you were melting under the radiance of a goddess fallen from the night’s sky, evaporating under her divine light, and the hymns of her quickening breath. Like a prayer offered, you flicked your tongue in tune with her breathing until she stilled atop you, and let out a cry so beautiful, you were almost brought to tears again.

Shadowheart collapsed beside you on the felt top of the pool table, shoving the triangle of billiard balls away to clatter about the table. She laid in their place, reaching into her discarded pants, to pull out a cheap plastic case and a lighter. You’d expected another cigarette, yet you were surprised when it was a neatly rolled joint that found itself in her pale fingers.

“Care to join me?” She asked, lighting the pungent joint and taking a drag.

You curled closer to her, resting against her slightly sweaty frame. Your leg found a home, resting between her thighs, while your gaze fell from her lit joint to her inviting lips, smeared with a blend of black and red lipstick.

Smirking to herself, Shadowheart took a long drag of the joint, though instead of releasing the smoke, she leaned down to your pursed lips, pushing the smoke through. With smoke shotgunned into your virgin lungs, you fought to resist a cough, and with the soothing strokes left upon your back, you did.

Several minutes passed like this, your fingers carelessly wandering along her perfect form all the way, the air growing thick with smoke, and the smell of sex. Having reduced the joint to a useless nub, she returned it to the cheap plastic case and looked at you.

“Ready to go again?” Shadowheart asked, already trailing kisses along your jaw.

tears pricked your eyes as he rutted his hips as his cock stretched you out with each motion. it sent ripples of pleasure throughout your entire body. noir latched his lips onto your neck as he peppered wet sloppy kisses, taking in the sweet aroma of your body. “faster please…” you moaned out, your cheeks were stained with tear droplets that mixed in with your sweat.

noir’s eyes locked onto yours, his dark gaze filled with a mix of desire and concern as he noticed the tears pricking your eyes. his movements slowed for a moment, his thumb gently wiping away the stray tears from your cheeks.

“darling," he whispered, his voice filled with tenderness, "are you alright? i don't want to push you too far." he caressed your cheek softly, his touch gentle and comforting, his hips instinctively rocking gently against yours to maintain a connection. his concern for your well-being overshadowed his own desires in that moment, his focus on ensuring your pleasure and comfort.

but seeing the fire in your eyes, the determination to push your boundaries even further, he couldn't resist. with a nod of understanding, he shifted his approach, his movements becoming faster and more intense. his thrusts grew harder, each one pushing you deeper into a maelstrom of pleasure.

“i’ll give you what you desire, my dear," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "hold on tight." with a surge of strength and determination, noir increased his pace, his hips meeting yours in a relentless rhythm. pleasure surged through both of your bodies, bringing you to the precipice of release. moans of pleasure filled the room as you both embraced the intensity of your connection, chasing the waves of ecstasy that threatened to consume you both. noir's movements became even more intense, his hips relentlessly pounding into you with a primal force. he reveled in the feeling of your body trembling against his, the raw passion and desire consuming both of you.

“you’re such a sweetheart, taking my cock so well.”

as the pressure built to an unbearable peak, your body quivered and shook, the intense pleasure overwhelming you. suddenly, a surge of ecstasy coursed through you, and your juices gushed onto noir’s cock and thighs, marking the climax of your pleasure.

with a groan of ecstasy, he buried himself deep inside you, riding out the throes of pleasure alongside you. the room was filled with the heady scent of sex and the sounds of your moans mingling with his growls of bliss.

but even as your bodies stilled, he continued to hold you close, his arms wrapped around you possessively. he peppered your neck and shoulders with loving kisses, his breath ragged as he whispered against your skin.

“you’re absolutely breathtaking," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and adoration. "i hope i’ve fulfilled your desires, my dear. you are truly a force to be reckoned with."

…