#sub!hotch

Your hands wander down his chest, fingering each button of his dress shirt as you go but only undoing the top few. His chest hair peeking out. They go further, coming to cup his bulge and squeezing. His teeth stab into your neck and he lets out a groan, it vibrates your chest pressed to his.

His hands snake down slightly, fingers catching on your tights, ripping them open and leaving the black fabric in tatters.

You gasp. Hands grasping his shirt. He yanks your skirt up and it clings around your wait. “Careful.” You whisper in his ear, nipping on his earlobe. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

The car only gets hotter, cotton sticking to skin with the humidity from your breath circling the small space.

His slacks are tight over his bulge, he sighs in relief at you popping open the button, each tooth of the zip clicking.

“Hurry up.” He grits his teeth, thumping against the headrest, one hand pushing your underwear to the side.

You grab his cock, hovering right above him. The tip slides against your wetness and you feel your jaw clench, losing patience.

“Please.” He whimpers. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, anchoring you. Black strands of hair stuck to his forehead as a bead of sweat trickles down to his strong brow.

You give in to his delicious sigh, lowering yourself down on him slowly. His breath stutters and his grip on his hips with it. Letting out a slight laugh you slam back down on him.

“Mmm.” You hum as you set a steady rhythm bouncing on him, each come down making a wet, raunchy slap.

He cries out your name, it makes you clench around him. The head of his cock brushes over that spot inside you that makes your head spin, now it’s your turn to whimper and you curl over slightly, damp forehead coming to lean on his shoulder. Pace unrelenting.

“Jesus.” You pant, pulling yourself back up and steadying yourself with a hand on the car window. It’s cold with condensation, leaving your hand chilled and you creeping closer and closer to the edge with every bounce.

His desperate fingers creep under your shirt, fanning over your back. Tips of his thick fingers aiding you with each slam downwards, the back of the car filling with sweat, moans and overwhelming pleasure.

Then you feel it, another cool thing. It’s not the condensation dripping down your wrist. It’s his wedding band. The gold pressing into your spine, the metal a cold, shameful juxtaposition from the hot sweat box you’re both hiding in.

Your mind ticks with guilt for a second, a fleeting thought of his wife at home. It falls from your consciousness the moment his tongue licks up your neck, from the crook of your shoulder to your jawline.

“Fuck!” You cry, gripping into his shoulders as he starts to thrust up into you, matching your own pace.

It’s brutal, his feet planted firmly on the floor, toes surely curling in his shoes. Arms enveloping your waist, keeping you in place as he fucks you hard, your eyes rolling back.

He’s grunting into your ear, strong nose nudging into the side of your face. “God you’re addicting.”

Your thighs start to shake, eyebrows scrunched and lip clasped between your teeth so hard you think you draw blood.

“Shit shit shit.” You gasp as you cum on his cock, muscles tense and soaking with sweat. The secret makes it more thrilling, pulsing around him as he grunts.

“Shit.” He echos your words, but pulls you off of his cock, and you grasp onto the front seats. He spills on to the side of his slacks. It drips down to the leather seats.

The both of you stare at eachother for a beat, it’s thick. Like you can swallow it and it would choke you a bit on the way down. You reach over and roll down a window, the cold air rushing in and sticking to your skin.

“We are so in trouble.” You sigh, climbing back into the front seat, nodding at him to hurry up.

He does, zipping himself up and gracefully going out of the backseat and in through the doors.

“We are.” He coughs, turning the key in the ignition and the car roars to life. It’s quiet again, just the two of you and the hum of the engine. A bird tweets outside and you smooth down your hair, trying to look like you hadn’t just been fucked.

He starts to drive then, speeding through the DC suburbs in the night, it was quiet. You stare out of the window, elbow resting on the window ledge. Your tattered tights get put into the glovebox and your heels slip back on with. squeak. Pulling up outside of your house, the car slows.

“I want you.” He says. It’s simple, a statement as he looks over at you.

“You have a wife.” You respond, the moonlight making the diamond on your ring twinkle in the night.

“And you have a finance. So I guess we’re both bad people.” He sighs. “Consider it?”

You snort. “You couldn’t handle me at all boy, you don’t even know the half of it.”

The door clicks closed behind you and you make it halfway up the pathway to your door before you run back to the window, still wound down.

“Next Tuesday?”

He nods. You retreat with a smile on your face and locking your front door. His car is silent as it drives off.

a/n: thanks for the request anon!! i enjoyed writing this!! please send some more <3 PLEASE REBLOG!!!

taglist:  taglist: @beesin03 @Michasia24 @jakiki94 @A4Brianna @violettablackwood @hotchsgirll

“I’m not,” your reply comes quickly and gives you away entirely. This is what you get for dating an FBI profiler, the Unit Chief of them, no less.

Aaron smirks. “You were.” He pauses. “Are.”

Your eyes flick back to meet his. You hadn’t even realized your eyes had fallen down to his neck again. You look away from him, focusing instead on the passing scenery. “Lovely weather today.”

Aaron laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to rest it on your thigh. You nearly bite your own fist to keep yourself together.

“Honey,” he says, squeezing your leg. “I don’t mind.”

Your head turns toward him, curious. “Don’t mind what?”

“You staring at me.”

“Okay,” you say, your eyes falling down to his neck and collarbones again.

“Is there something on my neck?”

“No,” you blurt, shaking your head as if shaking yourself out of a trance. “No. No, I’m just--” You look ahead at the road, trying to figure out how to word this in the least embarrassing way. “I’m just. Looking.”

“At my neck.”

“What do you want me to say?” you cry, almost certain at this point that he’s teasing you. Or worse, mocking you, but you doubt it’s that. It’s almost certainly his little game of teasing you around the point until you land square on it.

The truth is, he’s always in a suit. Yes, when he stays at your place or you at his, he’ll wear a t-shirt and get comfortable. But it’s been so long -- maybe two weeks -- because both of your work schedules have gone awry, and you’re having withdrawals. Maybe that’s the explanation. It’s been almost two weeks of not seeing your boyfriend naked, and you’re losing it.

The two of you are on your way to lunch on your first joint day off in two weeks and he’s wearing a fucking polo shirt with the buttons undone and you’re losing it.

“I’m just wondering what has you in such a daze over there,” he asks, tone veering toward gentleness. “Are you okay?”

Dear god, now he thinks you’re upset and spacing out instead of horny and wanting to bite him.

“I’m fine,” you squeak out when his thumb starts stroking your inner thigh. You turn to look at him, using a surprising amount of willpower to look at only his face. “I’m great.”

He glances at you briefly, smiling. “Good.”

Good. Great. Wonderful, even.

You make it through lunch, able to focus on everything except Aaron’s neck. Your food is delicious, the weather is genuinely great, and you love to people watch.

Aaron loves to people watch, too. Except this afternoon, he seems keen to only watch you.

You squirm in your seat when you catch him staring at you again. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he says. “You’re just beautiful.”

“Oh,” you smile, staring down at your food. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You look up, keeping the smile, and managing to only glance at his neck for a second. You nod. “I’m okay. I think I was just hungry.”

Aaron doesn’t seem convinced at all. He’s seen you when you’re hungry, and you’re not usually staring at his neck for minutes on end. He lets it go, though.

Until he catches you staring at his neck again, later that night, when you’re both sitting on his couch, trying to watch a movie while you wait for the oven to preheat for dinner.

Aaron pauses the movie and you don’t even notice until he’s turning to face you on the couch, taking both of your hands in his.

“Why’d you pause it?” you ask, glancing between the TV and Aaron’s neck-- his face.

“Something’s wrong,” he says, starting to genuinely sound worried. “You’re spacing out a lot today.”

“No,” you shake your head, an embarrassed smile crawling up your neck. “No, it’s not that--”

“What is it?” he’s almost pleading, moving his head so he can meet your eyes because you won’t look at him. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“You’re too hot!” you blurt, and then immediately groan, grabbing a nearby pillow to bury your face in it.

And Aaron is laughing.

“Can you actually just take me home?” you say, muffled from the pillow. “So I can spare myself the embarrassment. Yes I’m taking the pillow with me.”

“Honey…” Aaron reaches for your waist, pulling you toward him, so much so that you are pulled into his lap.

You keep the pillow in front of your face, though you’re starting to giggle now. Even as Aaron tugs it down gently, peeking at you over the top of it.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you scold, feigning annoyance with a furrow to your brows that Aaron just thinks is the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not,” he swears. “I’m not. Can I put the pillow down?”

“Fine,” you murmur, letting him toss it away. You rest your hands on his shoulders, thumbs dangerously close to the collar of his polo shirt. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he says, hands finding your hips. “Is that all?”

“It’s been so long,” you sigh. “And I hadn’t seen you like this in a while.”

Now he’s confused. “Like what?”

“Not in a suit,” you muse, your eyes falling to his neck again. “I like your neck.”

You can see him holding back a laugh. 

You glare at him playfully. “I said don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” he promises, starting to smile. “You’re just cute.”

“Cute?”

“You just said you like my neck.”

“And?”

“That’s adorable.”

“Is it cute that I want to bite it?”

The confession falls from your lips before you can stop it. You’ve never understood how someone’s eyes can darken, but you see it now, in Aaron’s. The way his pupils dilate. His hands adjust on your hips, pulling you against him. 

“You can,” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“I can what?” you ask, though you know exactly what he means.

“Bite me.”

You blame how fast you move on the fact that it has been two weeks. That’s the only explanation for the way your body reacts, instantly surging forward to kiss and suck at his neck, and to finally bite.

Aaron pulls you up for a kiss after just a few seconds, and you try not to whine into his mouth.

“You’re insatiable,” he says against your lips.

“It’s been two weeks,” you argue, gasping when he nips at your bottom lip.

He smiles against your mouth. “Did you leave a mark?”

“On your neck?” He nods. “Do you want me to?” He nods again.

You grin this time as you lean in, returning to your favorite place. You kiss and lick to your heart’s content, eventually settling on the spot right behind his ear. It’s just inconspicuous enough for you to leave the tiniest of love bites there, sitting back after a moment to admire your work. The skin is red where the bruise is beginning to form, and you thumb over it.

Aaron, meanwhile, is staring at you with a heat you’ve never seen in his eyes before, his chest heaving. And when his hands tighten their grip on you, you feel just how hard he is underneath you.

When you go to circle your hips, he stops you. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” you inquire, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to his lips. “All I did was bite your neck and you’re right on the edge, aren’t you?”

Aaron damn near whimpers against your mouth. “Maybe.”

“Do you think you could cum just from this?” you murmur, pressing your hips down and smirking when he doesn’t stop you. His fingers go slack against your hips, clearly using all of his energy to keep his orgasm at bay. “Do you want to try?”

He nods again and you capture his lips with yours, spreading your legs even wider to grind your core directly on him. The seam of your jeans gives just enough delicious friction to make you feel good, but you know you won’t climax from this. Aaron, however, only gets louder as he tries to keep himself together.s

“Come on,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss the other side of his neck. “Let go.” You sink your teeth into his neck just barely, right over his jugular vein, and you can feel him twitch even through the layers of clothes. He’s shuddering through it, his hands bolted to your hips and grinding you right where he needs you. It’s intoxicating.

You press one more loving kiss to his neck before lifting your head, then kissing his lips while his eyes remain closed. He opens them when you pull away, that fire still brewing.

“And here I was embarrassed to tell you that I had been staring at your neck all day because I wanted to bite it.”

Aaron quickly climbs into bed and gets settled on his back. You strip down and he swallows thickly as he watches you. He moves his hand to palm himself through the fabric.

"No touching. Hands off. That's for me to do, not you." Your eyes narrow a little and his eyes are slightly wide. He nods and moves both of his hands to rest at his sides. You smile at him and get into bed too, climbing on top of him and straddling one of his thighs after removing his underwear. "Good boy. You listen so well."

You start humping him slowly, rubbing your pussy on his hairy thigh. You have always loved how hairy he is and he knows it. You've told him many times when playing with his happy trail. Aaron bites his lip as he watches you with desire in his eyes. His cock starts to grow harder and you begin to palm it, stroking it slowly and lazily.

He's gripping the bed so tightly, trying desperately to keep his hands to himself. He knows you'll just tie them up if he touches you too much though and he doesn't want that to happen this time, even though he loved it last time you were in charge. He just wants to be lazy and he wants to be good for you. He enjoys being a good boy for you.

You eventually get situated above him.

"Are you ready, baby?"

He just nods again. You tilt your head and you look into his eyes, you own hardening just a little bit.

"Use your words. Come on, sweetheart."

"Yes, I'm ready. So ready. Please, I need you so much." He whines a little bit and you smirk down at him. It's fun when he starts begging for you.

So with that, you sink down on his length. That delicious stretch is something you'll always love and the first one never fails to make you moan. Aaron almost moves his hands to your hips, but he stops when he remembers that he's not supposed to touch anything yet.

"Fuck, you're so good. Always so good for me. Always filling me perfectly. You're so perfect, baby." You praise him and he whines again. He loves being praised. It's one of his favourite things. He likes knowing that he pleases you.

You start rolling your hips against his and you plant your hands on his chest for stability when you pick up the pace of your movements. You're riding Aaron faster than you normally would, but you just fucking need him this way. He's so hard inside of you and he's being so good, it makes you absolutely feral for him. It makes you want to take him as hard and fast as you can.

Your pussy is drenching his length with arousal already and his soft moans are filling the room around you. He keeps fisting the blanket beneath him. He wants to touch you so fucking bad, but he controls the urge to give in.

"Fuck, Aaron!" You moan out and he squeezes his eyes shut. He wants to fill you up with his cum, but he can't until you say he can. He throws his head back and fights off the growing urgency in his gut.

You ride him even faster now and he opens his eyes to watch you hump him with abandon. The pure look of pleasure on your face is something he wants to commit to memory. He watches as your finger finds your clit and he sees you rubbing it in tight little circles until you're climaxing around him. He can't help his hips bucking up into you at the sight and the feeling.

Fuck he wants to cum.

You ride out the high and slow down your movements a bit, grabbing his hands and pinning them above his head gently. You're leaning forward now, and your tits are in his face as you rock your hips slowly. His cock is hitting those places so deep inside of you that make you feel like you're in heaven. He can't take his eyes off of you.

"Finish in me, honey. Whenever you're ready. Is this a good pace?" You whisper into his ear and you kiss the side of his head.

"It's perfect. Just...please don't s-stop moving. O-oh shit." He stutters and moans as you push your hips against his firmly, taking him a little deeper than before. You do this again and again until he's spilling inside of you and whining and whimpering as he cums. His eyes are closed and his jaw is slack. You move one of your hands to cup his cheek before lightly tracing random patterns on his face with the tip of your finger.

Once he comes down from his own high, he finally relaxes into the mattress and you let go of his hands completely.

"Can I touch now?"

"Yes, Aaron. You can touch now."

He wraps his arms around you and closes his eyes. You both stay like this for a long while. Neither of you want to get up yet. Your cunt flutters around his cock at times as he begins to soften inside of you. When he slips out after a little while, you feel his release dripping out of you and onto his sweaty skin.

You cradle his head with one of your hands and your other arm wraps around his shoulders. You kiss his head again. "You did so well. You always do. With everything. I'm always proud of you, Aaron. No matter what." There's more meaning to your words than just sex. He knows you mean with his work. He knows you mean that even if a case goes sideways, you're still proud of him regardless because he works so hard all the time and always tries his best.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck and leaves little kisses there. His arms give you a slight squeeze and he breathes in your scent.

"Thank you for always taking care of me. I love you."

It was late, so late that you’d stopped checking the clock about an hour ago. Aaron had called a few hours earlier, right before he got on the jet home. He sounded even more exhausted than usual and had made you promise you’d wait for him when he got home. You knew the case had been even harder for him than usual from his phone calls throughout the week.

That’s why you weren’t surprised when he looked like hell when he walked through the door. You hardly got a word out before he threw his suit jacket over a chair and plopped down on the couch, head leaning against the back of it.

“Welcome home,” you say, playing with a strand of his hair. “Long week?”

He responds with a groan. It was mostly tired, but you could hear a hint of something else beneath the exhaustion. 

“I’m glad to be home,” he says, loosening his tie.

“I can tell.”

He gives a slight smile, facing you. His undereyes are dark, but there’s a glimmer in his gaze. 

You take the hint, pulling him towards you by the tie. The kiss is anything but tired, his lips connecting with yours as you grab the back of his head. It’s as if he’s been saving the rest of his energy for this kiss, demonstrating just how lonely he was without you. 

When you break for air, he leans forward, resting his forehead on your shoulder. “I missed how you take care of me.”

“Poor baby,” you say, eliciting a groan from Aaron. 

You knew how he got after these long cases. Usually, he wanted to be in charge, the one to guide you. But when he got this tired, he just needed someone to take care of him. And you didn’t mind in the least, more than happy to pamper him after a hard week. 

You push him back on the couch, taking his tie off. He sighs, letting the tension in his body slip away as you undo the first three buttons of his shirt, revealing just a peek of his chest. The first button was for him, to keep his collar from being so tight around his neck. The other two buttons were for you, giving you a glimpse of his skin and the dark hairs that curl on his chest

“Just relax, baby,” you say, gently massaging his shoulders. 

You don’t need to tell him twice. He practically goes limp under your touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

Your hands move from his shoulders, sliding his belt out of the loops. A faint blush blooms on his cheeks. You could tease him, but you decide his week has been long enough, instead moving to straddle his lap. 

Aaron lets a tiny whine slip from him when he feels the pressure on his clothed cock. You smirk. You love it when he’s tired (or submissive) enough to not stifle his sounds.

You start to rock your hips, painfully slow at first. Aaron’s hands instantly go to your waist, gripping you just tight enough that you know there’ll be a mark tomorrow. 

“Baby,” he begins, but you shush him, a finger tracing along his bottom lip. He obeys, breath hitching when you speed up ever so slightly. 

You place a hand on each of his shoulders for leverage. Your movements are slow, but you make sure to drag them with enough pressure to keep him wanting more. 

You know he wants more when he whimpers out “more,” words so breathy you almost miss them. 

You giggle, and speed your hips up. You can’t deny him when his whimpers are so pretty in your ears.

He lets out a strangled groan, pride having gone out the window the second he walked through the door. You imagine him at work, all stoic and bossy, a complete foil to his compliance at the moment. His breathing is ragged, almost like when he’s close. He’s gripping your waist with both hands, whining with every move you make. 

When you trail a thumb down his chest, he lets out an unrestrained moan, grabbing your hips to stop your motions. His head falls back, breathing ragged.

“Baby?” you ask with a knowing smirk on your face.

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Mm.”

“Did you just come?”

He turns beet red, eyes squeezing shut. “Maybe,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. 

You chuckle at his embarrassment, sliding off him to sit beside him. You unzip his pants, reaching under the waistband. He groans when you make contact with his length, fingers running along the wetness coating the inside of his underwear.

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

Words have once again escaped him, as he just whines in response. You shake your head, letting out a small tsk as you pull his pants down just enough to free him. Despite your front, you both know you love it when he gets so desperate that he comes in his pants like he’s being touched for the first time.

“How about you touch yourself for me, baby?”

He lightly grips the base of his cock, giving himself a few lazy strokes before pawing at your thigh. “I can’t,” he says, turning his head to look at you with pleading eyes. “I need your help.”

For a brief moment, you consider denying him. But the look he gives you is so desperate, so unlike his usual glare, that you can’t help but touch him. 

You wrap your hand around him, thumb tracing along one of the veins before you start to stroke him. One of his hands reaches out, grasping at the arm of the couch for any kind of anchor he can find. 

Aaron’s lips part, a breathy moan escaping him. He usually limits himself to groans, which only makes it that much better when he lets himself really make noise. 

He’s letting out moans that you think must be your name, but you can’t say for sure with how unintelligible everything that leaves his lips is.

You speed up your motions. He’s clearly hypersensitive from his earlier release. It’s evident in the way he’s already whimpering like he’s close again. 

Aaron’s hips start to buck up mindlessly, thrusting to meet your hand as it jerks him off. 

“Please,” he says. He’s not exactly sure what he’s begging for, but he needs to beg for something. 

You know his pleas are aimless, but you speed up your hand anyway, squeezing when you reach his tip. He lets out a sob, knuckles white as he grips the couch. 

“Come for me, Aaron,” you whisper in his ear. You nip at his earlobe once to emphasize your words. 

He nods frantically, biting his lip. It only takes a few more caresses for him to come with a cry, his release painting your fist. His whole body trembles, hips slowly ceasing their thrusts. 

“Good boy,” you murmur as you lick his seed from your hand. 

Your words have him giving one final whimper as he collapses completely, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you down so you’re both laying on your backs. He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling your scent as he tries to collect himself. 

“Thanks,” he says, lips brushing against your skin.

Day 1–Toys

Day 2– Bondage

Day 3– Somnophilia

Day 4– Choking

Day 5– Breeding

Day 6– Facesitting

Day 7– Facefucking

Day 8–Thigh Riding

Day 9– Cockwarming

Day 10– Size Kink

Day 11– Degradation

Day 12– Biting

Day 13– Praise

Day 14– Tit Fuck

Day 15– Blindfold

Day 16– Masturbation

Day 17–Cream Pie

Day 18– Hurt/Comfort

Day 19– Lingerie

Day 20– 69

Day 21– Squirting

Day 22– Brat Taming

Day 23– Quickie

Day 24– Spitting/Cum Swapping

It’s past midnight, and you hear the faint of the vacuum come to a halt as the custodians finish up their shift. You’re at work later than the night shift custodians. Shouldn’t you be heading home?

You pack up your briefcase full of your case files, only stopping when you hear a soft knock on your door. You know that knock— the three-beat rhythm, each one slightly my confident than the next, but not quite assertive.

“Come in, Aaron.” You shout so he can hear you from the outside.

He greets you with a small smile, holding a manila folder out to you wordlessly, his teeth occupied with biting his bottom lip.

“Is this the Troy Perry case file?” You question.

“Y-yes.”

“Is it complete?”

Aaron shrugs, “Sort of. I mean... I think so?”

You sigh, running a finger over your brow bone. “It’s a simple question, Aaron. Yes or no. Is it complete? Or is there still work needed to be done?”

You’re too hard on him. Aaron’s sweet, the sweetest man you’ve ever known. But he has the potential to be the leader that the bureau needs— strong-willed, deeply moral, and most importantly passionate. You just need to crack that unsure exterior.

“I-I finished all the sections!” He exclaims out of nervousness. “I just wanted to see if you thought they were good enough.”

His brows knit together as you study his expressions, most likely feeling weighed down by your stare.

“I trust you.” You state, placing the file in your desk drawer. “I don’t need to look over it.”

“A-are you sure?” Aaron asks. “What if there’s a mistake. S-Shouldn’t you check for those kinds of things?”

You press your hand down firmly on your wooden desk, “Are you telling me how to do my job?”

His jaw falls open, and his hands rush out to aid his apology, “No! No! I didn’t mean it like that, Ma’am.”

You can’t help the way your thighs rub together, unmistakably aroused. “Don’t question me, or yourself, okay? What we do is important, and you have to be sure of yourself when you make decisions.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you for everything.” That boy is going to be the death of you.

You shrug, “Don’t mention it.”

He smiles, big and bright, with all his teeth showing and his eyes creasing. You smile back, albeit less wide. You catch the way his eyes flick down to your plump lips, and he clears his throat nervously.

“I-I think— I’m gonna head h-home.”

You nod, all but prepared to let him walk away. You know what you’re about to do could ruin any semblance of the false formality to two of you hold with each other. You know Aaron wants you; it’s easy to see. You are a profiler, after all.

“Alright.” You say, letting him walk halfway out the door before calling him back in. “Aaron?”

his head jolts up, “Yes?”

You take three large strides until you’re face to face with him, pulling him to the side of the doorway, letting the door close shut before slamming your lips against his.

He’s rooted in place, eyes wide open as he takes in exactly what’s going on. You break away from the kiss, and truth be told, you’re just as nervous as he is.

“We don’t have to do anything, Aaron. I’m not going to punish you if you don’t want to sleep with me. That is... unless you want me to?”

Aaron’s neck flushes a warm rose, and despite his uneasy voice, you feel the bulge in his slacks pressing against the front of your thigh.

“T-this is, uh, we shouldn’t— right?” His breath fans your face.

“Tell me you don’t want this.” You deadpan. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you haven’t dreamt of fucking me, then I’ll let you go. I'll pretend this never happened, and you can go back to calling me Ma’am and keeping me six feet away.”

“I can’t.” Aaron sighs. “I can’t lie to your face and tell you I don’t want this.”

“I fucking knew it.” You laugh, rubbing your hands down his shoulders. “You want me.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answers anyway. “Yes, Ma’am. I want you so much.”

“Ma’am?” You grin. “You like calling me Ma’am?”

He nods, and you smile, bringing his lips against yours. This time, Aaron is more responsive, closing his eyes and letting his lips roam, hands resting on your waist.

“I want you, Aaron. Right here. Right now.” You growl, working to undo the knot in his tie.

“W-what? I-I don’t know what you mean...”

“You’re going to fuck me against my desk as hard as you can, Aaron. I need you inside of me. Now.”

You can see the gears turning in his mind, unable to process what you’ve said fully.

“Do you understand, Aaron?” You purr, opening up his shirt and raking your nails down his stomach.

“Uh huh.” He finally nods. “I-I understand.”

“Good.” Your smile is teasing in a sickly sweet manner. “For a second there, I thought you were too dumb to follow orders.”

He follows closely behind you as you perch yourself onto the wooden surface of your desk. You slide both your trousers and your underwear down, exposing just how much you need him.

“Come here and fuck me already.” You demand as he works his belt buckle open, slowed down by the tremor of his hands.

Once he finally frees his cock from his pants, you know there’s no turning back, no way you could look at him without wanting to fuck him. His cock is flushed and hard, precum leaking out of the tip.

Aaron strokes himself firmly twice before lining up his cock with your entrance. Before he can push himself in, you pull his lips down for a tender kiss, releasing his face so you can watch the way he sheaths into you.

You’re instantly breathless; the warm feeling in your lower stomach combined with Aaron’s blissed-out face makes you clench with excitement.

“Fuck me.” You exclaim, pulling his thighs closer to yours. “Fuck me as hard as you can. Prove to me your not fucking worthless.”

Aaron lets out a strangled groan before slamming his hips forward, burying himself as deep as possible into you before pulling out, repeating his motions.

“F-Fuck.” You cry, gripping his shoulders tightly. “I knew you’d be good at this. Such a good boy.”

His head comes down to nip at the flesh on your collarbones. There’s no doubt that you’ll be marked up tomorrow, but you don’t mind one bit.

Aaron continues pounding into you, the sound of your skin filling the entire office. His hips roll expertly into yours as he snakes his hand between your bodies to rub your clit.

“I’m so close, Ma’am.” He whines, resting his forehead breathlessly against yours. “Can I p-please cum? Please?”

You shake your head, “Hold out a little bit longer, baby— I’m so fucking close.”

His fingers circle your clit faster, and he seems to appreciate the way you moan louder. He feels the quicker in your thighs and the hitch in your breath. Soon enough, your legs are shaking, and your back is arching off the desk.

“Fuck, Aaron!” You shout, tossing your head back in a silent scream.

Aaron takes your scream as his cue, groaning as he cums inside of your pussy, thick ropes filling you up perfectly. He slams his hips once more into you, wincing at the overstimulation, before pulling out altogether.

He places a wordless kiss on your forehead, an innocent gesture to close off your filthy activities.

“Thank you.” He whispers as you thread your fingers into his hair.