#softdom!tom

Never did you think that once you found who you thought was the love of your life, young and naive, that you would seek anything more than what your dear boyfriend, Zac, gave you. Zac came to you so easily, and as that teenager with low standards of men and life, you quickly settled for the first bid, ignorant of other offers. Five years in and you regularly experienced issues common with long-term relationships; the romantic spark had fizzled out until there was nothing but boredom, laziness and a formidable wave of dissatisfaction. It meant that your fantasies and desires could no longer be satiated by Zac because over time he lost sense of how to make you feel loved like you were his girlfriend and not just someone he knows.

Unbeknownst to you, the night of the housewarming proved that you are just as you thought: naive. So simple-minded that you never expected to want someone else, someone better than your current boyfriend because you didn’t know it existed. But now, given your lacklustre relationship, it is the only thing you ask for; someone who knows how to please you, excite you, fulfil your fantasies and desires in a way that is unpredictable, to bring about that once-felt youthfulness of love again, to satisfy you.

You knew exactly what initiated it, and whether intentional or not, it was a fleeting moment in time that decided your paths were to be connected. It was strange how the thought occurred to you, that millions and millions of years had passed, a catalogue or two of written history had led you both to this exact moment in time, where the urge for your eyes to connect in the small time frame of a single second appeared simultaneously. It was like a noise only he and you could hear, pulling your attention towards each other and keeping it for yourselves. Despite the flute of Prosecco you sipped on at the time and Zac’s stiff hand on your waist, you still remember quite explicitly what coursed through your veins when your eyes found his; curiosity, want, desire, an uncontrollable impulse, then fear. In that exact order.

His name was Tom, and although his name revealed itself quickly to you, you were still strangers no less. He had looked to you from across the room as if he knew everything about you, your personality, your wants and needs, your history, and evidently, who you were drawn to as you remember his eyes snapping to Zac’s hand resting haphazardly on your hip. His eyes were a variant of brown that you couldn’t describe them as such; the simplicity of the word didn’t do them justice. It was more like a burnt umber but in the right light was like a delicious, rich and bitter chocolate. The way you fantasised how they would run down your figure, coating you in their warmth caused a very visible shiver to make itself known, and it gave Tom that little piece of insight to the fantasises in your head. That look was all you got from him, and it worried you how quickly you found yourself being attracted to him with just a small gaze, whereas it took four dates and a bunch of flowers over three months to consider taking a liking to Zac.

The initial betrayal of being interested in someone other than Zac was confusing, but the novelty of it was enticing. Be that as it may, an unhealthy and a very suppressed obsession for satisfaction lured you into craving after the spark you felt when you first saw Tom, knowing that it was too ferocious to ignore. However, three very trying obstacles stood in your way. One obviously being your current relationship with Zac. The second was the uncertainty if Tom felt the same. What if you misjudged and it was just a glance and nothing more, that the spark was one-sided and undeserving of being reciprocated? The last was your own guilt, unsure of right from wrong. You pined at the possibility of Zac discovering that although he was the one who shared a bed with you, someone else was occupying your mind and everything in between. You were fighting against the bitter inner-conflict between the selfishness of wanting more and liberation from the monotonous for a long time, until loyalty and perhaps a certain anxiety of the unknown kept you stuck with him. You had always been with him, you didn’t know any different.

When another social event loomed around the corner, you utilised it as a trial to determine what direction your doubts would swing you in, that if they were as concerning as their very existence reasoned them to be, they would help you make the right decision. You approached it as you would any other gathering; calm, taken and unexpected of the presence of a certain man that had been infecting your memory. Unaware that you had dressed at little more immodestly than usual, it was too late to change when the taxi’s horn blared from outside your front door. For the first few hours of the night, Zac appeared absent: his touch lacked the usual half-arsed affection and he spent most of his hours with some guys watching a live football match between who? and never heard of them in the kitchen, sharing nothing but an empty look towards you every now and then.

The words of your friend were waffled into your ear beside you as you perched yourself on the plush sofa in the living room where the women remained, but you didn’t heed any of them, absent-mindedly picking away at the pink nail polish and listening to the conversation in your own head. As he always was, Tom was present in your mind, but yet his physical presence was yet to be seen here at the gathering; he was a dear friend to the hostess, so it was a surprise that he hadn’t shown. Before you completely negated doubt number 2 on the grounds of lack of evidence/Tom, when the clock struck 10pm, the front door clambered open and a few latecomers, mostly guys sporting football strips laden with various packs of beers in their hand, stumbled in, the remnants of a chant fading as they flooded into the kitchen to meet with the other guys.

“That’ll be the football fans arriving.” The words of Katie, the hostess, were murmured inwardly as she followed them into the kitchen to greet them. You decided to trail behind her, curious to see who else had arrived but also desperate to avoid negating one of your doubts prematurely. The pristine white tiles of the kitchen floor clicked under your heels, a woman’s siren. The very sound that alerted the men, turning their heads as both you and Katie strolled into the kitchen. The air was dense, thick with left-over sweat that lingered around the latecomers, a souvenir from the football stadium. Even though it was overwhelming and potent enough to reach for the window, it had undertones of a musky, cedar and cinnamon cologne that thankfully someone had the initiative to wear. It wasn’t Zac’s, that you were certain of.

Faces filled every space, but not faces you wanted to see. Your search was abruptly stopped when you heard Zac calling your name through the crowd. With his hand reaching for you, you grabbed and pulled. In seconds, you were standing hip-to-hip with him, his boisterous elbow landing painfully on the crook of your shoulder.

“There she is. Tom, this is my girlfriend.” Yes, because the pointed elbow jabbing into my neck screams love and affection. Wait what…?

Tom?

Your eyes immediately left Zac’s bloodshot eyes to find deep, dark umber irises staring back at you, defined in the clear whites of his glossy eyes. Your heart stammered as the spark flickered. Tom looked to you expectantly, seemingly amused by your momentary bewilderment and folded his arms across his chest, clad in the football strip of team never heard of them. You tried to swallow to ease the tension, but the bob of your throat just tempted Tom’s notice and the sound that escaped your mouth hung heavy in the air. The musky scent you detected earlier was wafting through your nose, stronger than before and its warmth wrapped you in a tight hug - it had to be Tom’s. A brew of nerves broiled in your stomach, its very existence bringing about a flavour of disgrace as guilt consumed you once more. Your mind was running on basics, not risking letting your words suffer to the heat of the moment.

“Hi,” you vocalised. A small, innocent syllable, but the message you sent through the fluttering of your lashes brimming your eyes was nothing alike.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he husked. “Finally.”

The conversation was kept short and precise between you and Tom as Zac babbled his way through his life story that apparently held no interest to Tom…nor you for that matter. There was so much you wanted to say to him, so much you wanted to ask of him, but with Zac within earshot, you couldn’t. The desire was running ragged in your limbs, and you just hoped that you didn’t convey yourself too desperate towards the man that was unequivocally not your boyfriend. You couldn’t help that Tom was making you feel so nervous, especially with the stare of those dark orbs that felt as though they were burning your skin. And it wasn’t your fault that wanted him, he just made it so hard to resist. Your heart naturally pounded in his presence, beating faster, pulling you towards him rather than Zac.

It was obvious that Tom and Zac’s personalities couldn’t be more dissimilar; the zealous animation of Zac’s mannerisms and loud words were a stark contrast to Tom’s calm, composed demeanour. From the side glances he would share with you in Zac’s unawares, or the mindless confirmations leaking from his mouth in a clever pretence of being invested in Zac’s ramblings, your suspicion remained firm in that Tom revelled in your presence as much as you did his.

As Zac talked about his job, which was never an interesting topic, the spaghetti strap of your dress lost its grip on your shoulder and fell down to the side of your upper arm, resting daintily against your skin. Brought out from your reverie, you tipped your head down demurely, picking up the thin piece of fabric with the tips of your fingers and placing it back into the crook of your shoulder, thinking nothing of it. Although, when you turned your head back to the man opposite you, his eyes were stuck on you, undeniable that he was mesmerised by the small, innocent gesture. Even as Zac continued to talk directly towards him, adamant for his attention, Tom silently acknowledged how obvious he was being in his interest for you, but yet refused to pull his gaze away. In fact, he exacerbated the situation by wetting his bottom lip with his tongue that swept across, slow and calculated.

Your stomach swirled inside you, but it was easy enough to conceal. The shiver that shook your body even less so. Staring at another man’s girlfriend knowingly? In front of him? His bravery was applaudable.

The chains of loyalty and guilt fell away at the precise moment Tom had winked at you, setting you free from the bounds of the dysfunctional relationship that no longer served its purpose. The heat in your belly refuted one of the remaining three doubts left. Tom was completely and utterly entranced by you; the spark had finally been reciprocated. The expression read loud and clear on Tom’s face for you to see. I want you.

It could’ve happened that night. It should’ve. But it didn’t. And if it did, you would’ve. Frustratingly, the chance to talk to Tom alone never presented itself that night but even if it did, neither of you could take it; the house was far too populated with witnesses and Zac was around every corner. You couldn’t risk the exposure and the scandal that would follow. Instead you had to settle for Tom’s close proximity during conversations that neither of you were listening to, the electric touch of his hand to the small of your back as he passed behind you, and the magnetism of his glances as he sought you out through the crowd. Even as you passed through the front door to leave, one last glimpse over your shoulder saw Tom winking at you in a vow to have you, sooner or later.

The spark fizzled out when you left and you sat in silence during your taxi home, staring defeatedly out the window where Zac’s attention was preoccupied with the happenings of his phone. It was pitiful how sad you were, how discontented with the situation that you found yourself stuck in and your heart lurched for relief. Surely your life was destined to be more than the domesticity of the bland and stale relationship, if you could call it that, with Zac. You couldn’t face it any longer.

It took a couple of nights of tossing and turning in your bed to accept that you were only human and with that came weakness and error; humans had needs and they were selfish but most of all, they didn’t always do what was right. It was time for it to be settled. The ball was in your court now, Zac was your issue, not Tom’s. If you wanted this so badly, if your lack of satisfaction was so overwhelming that guilt and betrayal were no longer on the table, then you had to do something about it.

Which was why when your hand lifted to knock against the hard wood of Tom’s front door, months later, regret was no where to be found. Doubt number 3 was dealt with.

The surprise in his voice when he mentioned your name reminded you that you hadn’t warned him about this, that you had acted upon your own intuition and carried on full steam ahead. Despite the surprise in his voice, his body didn’t seem to convey the same shock, lacking the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look as he calmly folded his arms and leaned against the door frame. Nerves pooled at the sight. Casual in a baggy white t-shirt and a pair of loose jeans, hugging him at his waist was enthralling to the spark in your stomach.

“It’s nice to see you,” he said.

“Yeah…you too.”

“What can I do you for?” He knew, but it pleased him to entertain the idea of asking anyway.

“I was…I was hoping actually…” Your voice was wavering, clearly lacking direction. Five years out of practice with flirting with a guy - no wonder you were failing miserably. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Does Zac know you’re here?”

“Uh…no, he doesn’t. He’s visiting his parents, actually.”

“Then you better come in then,” he smirked, unabashed and mischievous. He opened the door for you, clearing the way and guiding you in by the palm of his hand. It was all very real. Suddenly the pressure of being with him alone sprung on you, drowning your mind with self-doubt, trepidation but most of all, temptation.

He led you into his living room adjoined with a very open kitchen, walls mounted with ovens, hidden cupboards and a gleaming silver fridge illuminated generously by the full length patio doors that let in the light. He hid himself behind the kitchen island in the middle as he grabbed a glass of water for you, even though you hadn’t asked for it. But by the way you were wringing your hands together and constantly swallowing the lump in your throat, he had figured you needed it. Or at least if he suspected the real reason why you were here, you would need it.

You thanked him, offering a small smile before he placed himself on the Sherlock chair adjacent to yours. You could feel him survey you, knowingly adding fuel to the spark as he queried your every move. The air was warm, borderline suffocating with heat that forced you to readjust yourself repeatedly to stop the sweating.

“How did you find out where I lived?”

“Katie,” you shamefully replied. The edges of your teeth were sinking into your lip in admission. He nodded, despite how stalker-ish you sounded.

“We never really got a chance to speak at Katie’s.”

“We didn’t,” you concurred. “Zac’s got a pretty big mouth on him.”

“Well I guess it’s a good thing you’re here then, isn’t it?” Your eyes found his, twinkling with intention. He suddenly bursted into motion, sitting forward and resting the points of his elbows on his knees. “Actually, I’ve been waiting a long time to get you by yourself.” The purr of his voice initiated a shudder. “I can tell you have too. And it fascinates me that for a woman who has a boyfriend to love, why she can’t stop herself and look the other way when another man tries so desperately to get her alone.”

“Would it surprise you to know that she maybe doesn’t love her boyfriend anymore?” You spoke in soft tones while your eyes sunk to the pair of hands before him, his fingers swivelling in a casual motion but yet teasing all the same. “Maybe her boyfriend doesn’t love her like he used to, either.”

Tom’s lips tugged at the sides and his fingers halted all movement. He knew what you were insinuating.

“It doesn’t surprise me actually.” There was a breath of silence before he stood and hovered over you. His hand reached out to let his fingers glide along the line of your jaw fluidly, his touch skimming over your cheek. “I know why you’re here, darling, even if you’re too afraid to admit it. You try to hide it in your face, but it doesn’t work. I can see right through you.” How he had read the situation so accurately you didn’t know, but you were hooked on his words as he unravelled the secrets you had locked away for months now. “That little boyfriend of yours doesn’t satisfy you anymore, does he?” You timidly shook your head. “Five years, Zac had said. That’s an awful long time. You were only eighteen-”

“Seventeen,” you corrected.

“Seventeen.” He tutted, somewhat pouted his bottom lip and had taken your chin within his grasp where his thumb had a mind of its own. You sank into his touch so willingly. “So young. You’ve barely hit your peak.”

As sat before him, eyes dedicated to nothing else but him, Tom became your priority and Zac was completely erased from your mind. You knew that as soon as you got a taste of Tom, there was no way you would be able to settle for anything less. For Zac. You were just too entranced by the man before you, the man you had been subliminally chasing in the quietest moments of your day and the man who could give you everything you wanted. The craving was immense; physically and mentally shattering. It was shaking you to the core.

Complacent with your surrender, he cocooned both of your hands in his and gently guided you through his house, his eyes rarely leaving yours.

“Tell me what you want,” he had whispered when he pushed you against his bedroom door. You breathed in that musky, cedar and cinnamon smell once again, taking just a moment to appreciate it while you searched your mind for your fantasies. In your silence, he took the opportunity to fulfil his own desires, sweeping away your hair and binding his lips to the skin of your neck. Tom was desperate to taste your lips but he was going to wait until you had submitted until he could claim them. As they roamed your neck, his lips were soft, gentle, barely there in comparison to the rough hands that enclosed around your waist, squeezing with impatience. “Tell me what that sleazy boyfriend of yours can’t give you.” He nibbled on your earlobe and your breath hitched. “But know that as soon as you succumb to me, you won’t have a boyfriend to be going back to. I swear, one touch to your cunt and you’ll belong to me. Understood?”

“Yes,” you whispered. Your voiced lacked in strength because his lips found your throat, ceremoniously branding you with his tongue and teeth at the first instance of your submission. He pulled back from the mark, encased your head within his hands and pulled you close until your noses skimmed in front of you.

“Good. Now tell me what you want.”

“I want to be touched,” you confessed. That dark, burnt umber was fiery now, never leaving your sight for one second.

“Be specific.” He was panting with restlessness.

“I want…I want to be choked, pinned down so hard that I can’t move when I cum. I…” A sudden hot flush painted your cheeks as you began pleading your fantasies. There was no denying you had an erotic mind, but you didn’t even stop to consider it might’ve been too erotic for Tom. But he didn’t blink and as a motivator, Tom glided his hand down past your navel, sinking in between your thighs to feel the heat of your cunt and toying with it by cupping his fingers into you, rubbing back and forth. The only thing that stopped him completely submerging was the fabric of your shorts. He made you want them to be ripped off but in order for that to happen, you knew you had to divulge your desires first.

“Keep going.”

“I want to cum in as many ways as I can; your fingers, your tongue, your dick, a toy, any way. And I don’t want that choice to be mine either; I want you to decide how and when I cum too…if you let me cum.” Your candour was staggering.

“Rough or gentle?” Tom asked, breath hot against the crook of your neck.

“Both.”

“When was the last time you had sex?”

“Um…” You were embarrassed to say, and Tom could feel the weight of your apprehension underneath his lips as he felt your throat bobbing to swallow. He pulled away until you could see the dread in his eyes, translated into an anger. “A few months,” you had whispered.

“How. Long.” He wanted specifics.

“Five months. Valentines day was the last time.” Tom couldn’t imagine how insatiable you must have felt, the thought of being rejected for so long from your own boyfriend no less was unfathomable. The only thing he did feel, though, was sympathy for your frustration. He wanted to tell you that if you had belonged to him he would never leave you so unfulfilled for so long. But he would much rather show you than tell you. He slacked his jaw until the anger dissipated, replacing it with an obligation to make up for your boyfriend’s mistakes.

“You must be ravenous, darling.” The comment made you chuckle. But the harsh tap to your clothed clit made you squeak.

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Then we’ll start gentle. Lie on the bed for me. And relax, you are still so tense.”

In a sequence choreographed by what you had seen in films, you sat on the edge of his bed, shyly shuffling further backwards until your back laid rest on the mattress. You had followed one of his instructions at least, the other was easier said than done. The rhythm of your pulse was still elevated, unaided by the sight of Tom crawling over the top of you until he had eclipsed the light, leaning down and finally claiming your lips in his. Your body was motionless under his weight except from your legs that had slithered out for underneath him to press against either side of his hips, teasing out a groan from him. His lips moved against yours purposefully, opening you up bit by bit before his tongue breached passed your lips to edge against the tip of yours. You audibly hummed, simply because you hadn’t felt such passion in a kiss for so long, savouring the notion of feeling wanted for once. The sound had Tom smiling against your lips.

In kissing someone new, you suddenly realised just how much Zac’s kisses lacked the spark you had always been seeking.

Surrounded by Tom - his right arm supported his balance above your head whilst his left cradled your face - you easily melted into his embrace.

“I think…” Tom started, but he dipped down for another heartwarming kiss. “That we’ve both wanted this since the moment we met.” He dipped again, but his lips landed against your cheek. “That night. At the housewarming.” His thumb hooked under your chin to tilt your head up as he licked his way down towards your neck. “You looked so gorgeous, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You couldn’t take yours off me either, apparently.” You yelped when his teeth grazed your pulse. “But then I saw Zac’s arm wrapped around you and…fuck,” he growled loudly and rutted his hips into you. Your eyes widened. “You are a little tease, do you know that?” No, you didn’t. In fact, you had always figured he was the one teasing you.

“I didn’t mean to tease you,” you mewled hopelessly. Before your words had reached his ears, he had the material of your t-shirt bunched underneath your breasts, slipping it over your head for his lips to kiss away the swarm of nerves in your stomach.

“Hmm, I’m sure you didn’t.” The devilish sarcasm had your legs attempting to clench together, but any movement was redundant because the entirety of his hands had pulled your legs apart. Your skin burned underneath his harsh touch, but it was only for a moment because until you were open and at his mercy, he didn’t hesitate to soothe out any remnants of the fiery tingle. He offered relief through his lips or his fingers, either way, you were rolling your hips impatiently. Tom detached himself from you momentarily, and the recognisable rustling of clothes slumping onto the floor filled the air.

As your eyes opened and the dizziness alleviated, they set sight on Tom standing clad in just his boxers concealing his bulge and ironically, your eyes almost bulged from your head.

He stood, smouldering with a body embellished by toned muscles and defined by the shadows that hugged them. He was beautiful and was…way out of your league. The extent of your beauty, whether you thought you had any, was greatly exceeded by Tom’s that you were certain that fate had mismatched you, like there was some sort of discrepancy. You couldn’t find a flaw anywhere on him, but when your eyes peered down to your own body and the image of your reflection mirrored in your mind, it was riddled with imperfections. It was that kind of debilitating mindset that had cursed you from the start. Not for one second did you think that when you were that young, naive seventeen year old who was ecstatic to have her first boyfriend, shaped and built like a twig, ever imagine that years later she would have this absolute adonis want to do all of the filthy things her twisted mind desired. People like Tom were never within your reach. Hell, you thought Zac was out of your reach when you were young.

The hands that you were crumbling under moments ago were now hooked underneath the crook of your knees, yanking you forward and placing your hips to rest just on the cusp of the edge. He tilted his head when he noticed your blatant disbelief, up close and easily readable.

“What?”

“Nothing, just…holy fuck. How are you built like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you kidding, you’re literally perfect. It’s actually very nerve-wracking.” You mumbled that last part, but he heard it all the same.

“I’m flattered,” he chuckled. He leaned down between your legs and stole a kiss from you; short, sweet and meaningful. “And why would that make you nervous? Because between you and I, I think the only perfection in this room is…” kiss, “…right,” kiss, “…here. Lying like an angel on my bed,” kiss.

“Tom, come on-”

“What? You don’t believe me?” His eyebrows sunk abruptly, and if you were reading him correctly, he seemed…disappointed. Almost offended that you were so easily doubtful of his words.

“Well, I…no, not really. Just…um, well, I’ve just never been complimented like that before.” You shrugged your shoulders, suddenly taking interest in your hands by the side of Tom’s face mere inches above you. You did anything to avoid his burning gaze but in your attempt, you realised it was as hard as trying to escape prison. He held you captive, locked up and thrown away the key. You knew that he didn’t take too kindly towards your doubt in him, but hearing the doubt in yourself Tom thought was unacceptable.

“Look at me.” He demanded, voice husky and assertive. “I don’t know what the fuck Zac is playing at, quite honestly, I don’t know what he’s done to deserve you because if he’s not giving you his undivided attention, if he’s not appreciating you, or showering you with compliments every single day, because believe me, I would be, then you do not belong with him. And I know he isn’t doing any of those things so do yourself a favour and get rid of him. Stop wasting your time on him.” The tips of fingers smoothed out the frown plastered on your lips, a response not in disgust of his words but in disgust of yourself for letting this relationship carry on as long as it had - you had stopped feeling for Zac years ago, so why hadn’t you broken it off yet? Tom had sunk his head closer to yours, nudging his nose with yours to angle your face more openly as he encased your lips in his, sucking fervently on your bottom lip.

“If Zac doesn’t appreciate you enough, let me show you what you do to me.” Tom whispered against your lips, still buzzing from the nip of his teeth. He released a groan as he rutted his hard dick into your core, subdued by your shorts. “God, the most beautiful little thing I have ever seen. Let me show you how this gorgeous girl makes me feel.” With one more roll of his hips pressed into you, your patience snapped and your sanity crumbled; you needed to be touched. Desperately. “You said you wanted to cum any way possible, right?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“And only if I allow it?” Your cheeks blushed…why did you have to say that out loud? It was clear he was going to use that statement to his advantage and for that reason, you hesitated, very obviously sighed and conceded. Tom’s smirk split into glee.

“Just take my shorts off. Please. I need you to touch me, I can’t wait any longer,” you whined. He almost laughed at your eagerness, but had excused it. You have been touched deprived for so long, who was he to deny you any longer?

“Keep those arms above your head and I will. If they move, I’ll stop.”

The cold air bit at your cunt when he finally pulled away your clothes, clit already tingling underneath the close proximity of his breath. The anticipation was ruining you, arms tingling with an itch to reach down and pull him into you but you resisted every time the words of his warning circled your head. Instead, you bucked your hips in a bid to get him closer to you, to where the heat swarmed and your core was begging for attention. Slow tutting sounds were muttered from his mouth as he shook his head in distaste.

“Darling,” he snickered, his laugh somehow broke the word into more syllables than you thought possible. If that little sobriquet didn’t grab your attention, his fingers drumming into the side of your hips did. “Don’t act all bratty on me now, I want to have my fun first.”

“Fine, but—fuck!” Your hips twitched at the first touch of his tongue gliding through your cunt. The muscle was soft, flat and slow as it dragged itself through the lips of your slit. In its trail left his warm spittle, coating you entirely so that every part of you was covered in him in some way, and dripping with a sparkle from the light above him. Already your legs were quivering, not quite in anticipation of your climax, but in a shiver of pleasure you hadn’t felt in a long time. Tom saw your back arch and wanted more from you. He dipped his head again, languidly pressing his tongue against your slit and pushing through until he reached the little bundle of nerves at the peak. Happily, he took your clit into his mouth and sucked, pressing the harsh tip of his tongue against it, flickering erratically until he could hear you moaning for release.

When you began to writhe, he slotted his finger into you whereby both your cunt was filled with him and your clit was caught between his lips. His other hand was occupied at your navel, pressing into it to keep you still.

“Shit…shit…shi-i-i-it,” you panted in a wanton plead and sweat dripped from your brow. “Tom, what the fuck?!” He released your clit with a pop. An added finger pumped in and out of you, curling at the knuckle to make up for the loss of attention elsewhere.

“This is how a man is supposed to pleasure you.” A momentary open kiss to your clit sparked a twitch. “None of that five-month-celibacy shit. If you were mine, I’d be eating this pussy every spare minute I had.” To solidify his words, he pressed his tongue flat against the sensitive bud and frantically shook his head between your legs and every time you felt a flicker twitch your nerves, your thighs spasmed. You were so desperate to rake your fingers through his hair, to either pull him further into you or drag him away but regardless, the threat of his promise to stop if you did overruled your instinct, so you whined through the suppression. The bubble grew in your stomach and your toes curled. You couldn’t tell if, at first feeling of an orgasm, you were going to immediately implode or whether you had retained some self-control. It had been so long since you had any and knowing that Tom was expecting to grant you permission first, you were worried that if you lost control, he would be sorely disappointed.

You felt yourself tipping over, your legs closed in on themselves every second or third time Tom’s tongue darted out to circle around your clit. He was expertly pulling at the elastic band in your stomach, ready to snap.

“Fuck, I’m so close. Can I cum, Tom, please?” Tom’s lack of a verbal response immediately told you that he was indeed going to abuse that little statement you let slip earlier. I want you to decide how and when I cum too…if you let me cum. His fingers slipped from you just as easily as the moan slipped from your lips. His hands, now free, lifted the back of your thighs to rest against his shoulders before his arms completely encircled your waist, his weight pushing you further down onto the bed. In seconds, you were completely immobile and it frightened you why he would so such a thing. With Zac, you were only ever used to dead hands lying lifelessly at the side, but with Tom, it was like he wanted to make you aware that his mouth wasn’t the only part of him that could drive you to insanity.

You peered down with what strength you had in your neck and what you saw staring back at you had your mouth hanging open, muttering profanities as the dark eyes of Tom stared hauntingly back at you from behind the flexed muscles of his forearms. It was a primal display of his skill, hungrily devouring you, showing you how he can contain the shaking underneath the strength of his arms and the persistence of his tongue dragging your clit mercilessly in every direction. Warm, wet and sensitive, you were driven to the edge.

“Tom, please!” In your desperation, your hands swung down to the side of your hips and instinctively grabbed an angry fistful of the sheets beneath you of their own volition. You had realised your mistake a second too late, for Tom’s eyes had already glimmered with disapproval and just like that he detached his touch from you. The groan that left your mouth was demonic with frustration. The feeling in your stomach was empty as was the sensation at your clit; the elastic band had shrivelled into nothing. Your head bounced against the mattress as you swung back, sobs rattling from your throat in a child-like tantrum and reasonably so. You were so close to experiencing the biggest, most intense orgasm in years and for as excited as you were for Tom to arouse you so quickly, you were just as equally maddened that he didn’t allow it to happen, especially when he made a point about how unfulfilled you were in your sexual fantasies.

“You’re a prick,” you panted. In seconds, his face hovered above you but you refused to give him the satisfaction of eye contact. Although in your peripheral, he was stoical and unfazed by your insult.

“I gave you one rule.”

“I didn’t think you were actually going to follow through with it. I was so close,” you huffed. There was something about your sudden unreserved, bratty nature that Tom wanted to immediately snuff out, so he did the only thing he thought plausible. His hand reached for your throat, fingers coiling around your neck where his tips of his digits curled harshly into your skin. The pressure elicited a yip and your entire body froze aside from the expanding heat at your core. Wide eyes sprung open to find Tom, donning a very particular look of censure. Tom had already proven to have a reliable memory, so when he heard that you fantasised to be choked, he wasn’t going to take it lightly.

“Was there so much mistrust in your relationship that you expect such low standards from everyone else?” He spat. “I don’t joke about, so when I said I’ll stop, I meant it.” You squirmed underneath his touch. “Such a shame, really. I was rather enjoying myself.” You could tell by the way he sensually licked around the perimeter of his mouth to collect any residue of your arousal that he wasn’t lying. Your taste set his eyes ablaze.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Keep your arms above your head.” You obeyed without a seconds hesitation. “Good.” He pinched your chin endearingly, despite the hostile grip around your throat. “My little angel.” My. Not Zac’s. Tom’s. The word, so short and simple, caused your heart to stammer and you were certain that Tom could feel it in your pulse beneath his hand.

With a hand still wrapped around your neck, the other slid down between your bodies until the pads of his fingers found your clit and began circling; the remains of your climax still lingered and buzzed to life when it finally got Tom’s attention again. Pleads were dripping from your mouth until you started to sound like you were reciting that fucking Daft Punk song, so you resolved to biting your lip. Nevertheless, he pushed harder, he circled faster, his grip became stronger and the pleasure was better. The feeling of your lost orgasm was redeemed in minutes and Tom’s fingers furiously pressed down onto your clit methodically, emphasising the sensation when he slotted them into your entrance, his palm cupping you to make sure that no where was void of his touch.

Between the taut muscles in your stomach homing an impending climax and the dizziness in your head from Tom’s tightening grip, the ecstasy of having your needs fulfilled was earth-shattering, which eventually shook with the orgasm, finally granted by Tom, ricocheting from your core. The room filled with your whimpers and he coaxed you through your high. But Tom couldn’t wait for your recovery. When he felt how tightly your walls clenched around his fingers, he decided, because that was what you had wanted, that he was going to make you cum with his cock deep inside you.

He brought you back from your post-orgasm reverie with a few taps to your cunt, and teased back into reality when he couldn’t resist a few kitten licks to your throbbing clit. Although small and harmless in nature, it was a torment that a cunt so abandoned would cower from - and Tom drank in the sounds, the sight of you crawling away, the feeling of pride he had knowing he was the one to satisfy you and not the arsehole of a boyfriend he knew wasn’t deserving of the beauty that was writhing between his sheets.

“How you feeling, eh?” He had asked, picking away the strands of hair that had fallen onto your forehead. He had noticed the glow to your cheeks, convincing him evermore that you really were his angel.

“Amazing,” you gleamed.

“Good. Now—” A sharp inhale pierced your lungs at the sudden motion. You blinked and you were suddenly straddling Tom’s hips, slowly rutting and bucking into you. He was full, contained and ached for release, and his eyes twitched with demand as your coy hands traced the rim of his boxers. Mirroring your touch, his fingers danced across the surface of your thighs, coaxing you into his authority, showing you how good he could make you feel if you just took his damn boxers off.

You positioned yourself high on his thigh, and as you dragged his boxers down the length of his legs, you couldn’t resist to grind your slit against him. In one passing, he was coated in your arousal. It was so delightfully promiscuous that you felt like another person - had you been stuck another day with Zac, you wouldn’t have never ventured into the more salacious side of you.

Tom sat up and grasped your jawline in his hand.

“Here’s me calling you an angel.” He chuckled, dark and menacing. “You’re a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip and his dick twitched. “I love it. C’mere.” He placed you back where he wanted you, where your heat hovered just inches above his cock that lay rigid against his stomach. You salivated in anticipation; how was that going to fit inside you? Despite the doubt, there was nothing you wanted more than to have him buried inside you, and Tom could feel that energy buzzing around him as you lay on top of him.

Carefully, you eased yourself down onto him and the head of his cock slipped right through the barriers of your slit, eager to push further into you.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking tight,” Tom groaned. It was so pleasurable, it almost sounded like he was in pain. The wail that screamed from your throat was just the same, amplified the further Tom dragged you down onto him by the hands gripping your waist and the hips pushing upwards. Your head was spinning and a whirlwind of sounds and expletives screamed internally because you couldn’t find the strength to vocalise them. The mind-blowing feeling was so profoundly debilitating, reaching new highs that it was so unfamiliar, so foreign that the naivety in you couldn’t believe such pleasure could exist. “I should be thanking Zac,” he gritted. “Giving me this tight pussy to stretch out.” Tom elicited a shrill breath from you when he began rolling his hips into you, grinding you against his hilt like he was making sure he could fill every little inch of you. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you wouldn’t even remember that arsehole’s name. Gonna make you cum like he never could.”

“Please!”

Tom planted his feet solid against the mattress, grabbed a firm hold to the sides of your hips and thrusted upwards, over and over and over again. Tom was never one to mistake harder with faster, for his pace remained at the same delicious tempo, stopping only to grind against you. It was all Tom, putting more effort into his poundings that gravity did and you swore for that reason alone, it was why you could feel him pulse in your stomach. His movements never faltered and you almost felt guilty for not having the commitment to move as vividly as Tom, though despite the pathetic attempt, he hushed you and told you to relax, enjoy the feeling because this was all about you.

Your hands found his chest when you felt yourself buck forward, Tom still hammering into you, adamant to steal your breath with every one of his virile thrusts. You hadn’t even realised you had completely folded until your forehead laid rest against the fiery skin of his shoulder. The bubble of oxygen that sat impatiently in your throat was clamped down, scared that if you released it, it would set off a chain reaction that would ultimately result in an explosive orgasm; not yet granted by Tom.

With his arms fully encircling your waist, Tom planted a few grounding kisses to your cheek, telling you that he had you, warning you for what was to come.

“Are you close, darling? I can feel you squeezing me.”

“I’m…bursting Tom, I’m gonna cum again.”

“Let go for me. Let me hear those noises. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

With a few more of Tom’s animalistic thrusts and the spinning of your clit beneath his fingers, you came undone, releasing the pressure and savouring the euphoric feeling of both pleasure and years worth of denied satisfaction that coursed through your entire body.

“That’s it, oh fuck. Christ, darling, you’re killing me, keep going.” You continued to clench, squeeze, scream, wail, grip, quiver; it was all too much for both you and Tom. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore, gripping onto to Tom like a koala would their tree. And it was reciprocated; once Tom finally descended from bliss, he coiled his arms tightly around your middle, keeping you stationary as he carefully released himself from you.

“Are you okay?” He had whispered into your ear. You nodded back, movements weak and small, and Tom returned with a supportive kiss to your shoulder. “My little angel.”

The air was still when Tom had prompted you to lie on the bed, humming contently as he cleaned you as best he could. The beating of your heart was still erratic but it was something as affectionate as Tom’s steady breath sweeping over your face as he knelt down to kiss your temple that slowed the pace. Light flooded in when the slits of your eyes peered open. They found Tom’s, the rich chocolate of his irises staring back at you in admiration. A blanket of serenity covered you both.

“Hi,” he murmured.

“Hi.”

“How you holding up?”

“I think I’m okay,” you smiled.

“Hm,” he hummed. “I’ll need to try harder next time.”

“Fuck, Tom!” Your unstable giggles filled the air. “So there’s a next time then?”

Tom shuffled closer until foreheads touched and noses brushed.

“Of course there’s a next time. And a time after that, and after that and after…” You pressed a finger to his lips and he immediately hushed, those glossy eyes told you he was listening to your words and sealed the promise with a kiss to the tip of your finger.

“What about Zac?”

“Who’s Zac?” He teased. You heaved a heavy sigh. You were actually being half serious - not knowing how to wriggle yourself out of the situation you now faced having deemed yourself unfaithful. “I told you you wouldn’t have a boyfriend to be going back to,” he whispered with a bit more understanding lacing his words. “It’s obvious you’re unhappy with him, so break things off with him-”

“And then what, Tom? All my stuff is with him, all my friends are through him, most of my life has been with him…I would have nothing without him.”

“But you are also nothing to him as well. He’s too connected to the woman you used to be and can’t see the woman you are now.” He took a breath to calm himself. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to break it off with him. Completely. Don’t let him persuade you otherwise; tell him you’re unhappy and you want to move on. Stick to your guns. Then, you’re going to gather everything you have and bring it here-”

“Here?” The suggestion was unexpected. Was he being serious?

“Here,” he confirmed, his eyes and voice resolute. “Stay here for as long as you like. Let me indulge you, I want to appreciate you the way he never did. Because if it were up to me…” His voice dipped into his lower register and eyes fell to your lips. “I would happily satisfy you and please you and satiate all of your fantasies and desires for the rest of my life to make you happy because I…I just can’t resist you. You make it so fucking hard, darling.” He pushed against your lips as a testament to his admission. His conviction twinned with his determination to keep you as his own thrilled you with a sense of longing that had been absent from your life for so long. It was all too enticing that, just like he had said, it was so fucking hard to resist.

“So?” Tom asked desperately.

“I hope you’ve got enough room, I’ve got a lot of clothes,” you giggled. Tom embraced you with a contented smile on his lips, his armed wrapped around you pulling you closer into his chest where the cedar and cinnamon scent welcomed you in.