#wayment

You know who this is from...

-💛

What if he reaffirms the importance of y'all's friendship after picking you up from a date?

And by pick up, I mean interrupt.

See, someone had managed to get you to give them your number.

Surprising, honestly, because you were a bit picky with the men you let into your life. That the guy had hair the color of damp soil and the Caribbean Sea in his eyes was merely coincidental.

It was all going well enough, until you went a dinner date with him, and Johnny seats himself at your table.

John fucking MacTavish.

If looks could kill.

You reached over and pinched the cartilage of his ear with your nails— twisting it until he gave a pained yelp.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be across the world on a mission or something?" you hiss.

As Johnny responds to you, his unwavering gaze remains fixated on your date.

"Obviously not, hen. Went home t'find ye missin'. Was worried somethin' happened t'ye. Wha's the lad?"

Your date uneasily clears his throat. "I'm uh—," but Johnny briskly flicks his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Dinnae answer tha'— was rhetorical. Ah'll be takin' my bonnie now, aye?" Leaning in, Johnny's hand firmly clasps his shoulder, eliciting a wince from your date. "Fer the sake of yer health, delete'r number."

You didn't dare interrupt as he bullied your date out of the restaurant nor resist when he dragged you to his vehicle with the oversized tires that you could hear a mile away.

And that's how you ended up in this position— thighs pressed against your sweat-slick chest, his rough hands keeping you in place, and your feet positioned near his ears, as he split you open with his cock.

"All ye needed t'do was wait fer me. Ah'd give ye anythin' ye want— just gotta ask." His deep voice rolled over you like a wave, leaving you breathless.

Your eyes crossed when he bottomed out, a toe-curling blend of pleasure and pain setting your nerves ablaze.

Gently, he leans down and captures your lips with his own hungrily— swallowing a moan that came from the back of his throat.

All senses but touch dull when he begins to move. The drag of his length along your swollen, tender walls. The coarse, dense hair on his chest brushing against your feverish skin— awakening every nerve ending. His warm tongue curling with yours, peppermint on your taste buds.

It's quickly becoming too much.

Johnny breaks away with a groan, strings of glistening saliva connecting you both, and gazes down at you—his eyes shimmering with an ethereal luminescence under the moon's soft light.

He grinds down, his trimmed pubic hair brushing against your slippery pearl, and a high-pitched keen slithered from behind your teeth.

"Tha's it, hen, take yer pleasure from me. I'm all ye need. Tha's wha' ah'm fer; To give ye what ye need, as yer best friend, aye?" he purrs.

There is no fighting him. There is no want to fight him, either.

He's all you need.

"Atta lass," his lips brush the shell of your ears as he breathes, "Ahm' all ye'll ever need."

Any words that sat on your tongue turned to ash when he began to thrust.

"Til death do us part, bonnie."

July 31, 2012 (more…)