Crazy Over Woll

"Who are you texting?" You ask, studying his naked back, your fingers just reaching him, wanting to connect the few freckles like a dot-to-dot puzzle.

"Hmm?” He looks back at you again, moving slightly away so you couldn't touch him anymore. You frown, and retract your hand. “Oh, just the group chat." He sends one final text, muting the chat until he is ready to pay attention to it again. "They're talking about doing something tomorrow," he says, now sitting back against the headboard, "I'm gonna go, you should too.”

You shake your head. "I can't.”

"Why not?”

"I said I'd do this thing with Ty.”

He looks off to the side, hiding his annoyance. "Well, I'm sure this thing will be thrilling," he says, rubbing his chest, "it's not like Ty has ever had a bad or boring idea. Ever.”

You roll your eyes. "I was actually supposed to do this thing with him today.”

"Well, why didn't you?" He asks, tangling his body up with yours as he moves to lie between your legs, his hips bracketed by your thighs. Pushing the old shirt up your torso, he kisses his way up your stomach, mumbling "take it off" against your skin. You obliged immediately, sitting up a little to take it off. "You didn't feel like it, is that what you told him?" A sharp whimper passes your lips, feeling his rough hands cup your chest, rolling the left nipple between his finger and thumb. He pinches it hard, and you gasp for him again. "Or is it because I ended up calling you?" He kisses in between the valley of your breasts, his head moving to the left, his tongue licking across the perked nipple.

You shake your head, saying a quick no, before moaning loudly as he sucked on your nipple. You could feel him grinning against your chest; the reaction he had teased out contradicting your original answer.

"Oh, no, of course not," Clayton shakes his head, his voice just a bit higher, mocking you with pouty lips. Goosebumps form on your skin as he traces his fingers along your smooth jaw, coming to a stop at your mouth, thumb touching your bottom lip, caressing it, as he hooked his other fingers under your chin. He pushes your head back, making you look up at him. "But here you are," his voice is low and silky, turning your tummy all gooey, "in my bed, resting after I just fucked you." He chuckles as you try to hide your face, skin flushed, and just a little bit of regret in your eyes. "I don't even know why you're still with him-”

"Clay," you sigh his name, your head falling back into the pillow.

"-I don't think anyone does.”

It was no secret that Clayton, and a few others, found Ty boring, often questioning what you saw in a guy who lived a life less exciting than the one you and the rest of your friends had. They were either artists, like yourself, worked in social media, owned boutiques, or were athletes. To them, Ty was just a doctor.

You hadn't seen Clayton properly in years, paths crossed briefly in the summers at family weddings, exchanging a few words before the conversations became awkward periods of silence, because you didn't really know each other anymore. But changes in your life (Ty's residency) had brought you to Salt Lake, and with it, it brought Clayton back to you. It wasn't the same Clayton you remembered; that guy was smaller, less muscular, awkward and shy. He still couldn't hold eye contact with you without needing to look away every other second, but he was more confident now. A little cockier, you might say. Fancied the attention his good looks got him.

The first time you introduced Clayton to Ty, he was quick to give you his thoughts the second your boyfriend had slipped out to take a call. Boring. A little dull. That you could do better. And probably why a week later, drunk after a big win, he got you alone, back pressed against a cold brick wall, grinning, all smug-like, when you made no attempt to push him away, intoxicated on the way your skin buzzed as he touched you, how lightheaded you got from kissing him, the thrill of it all temporarily giving you amnesia. It was like Ty didn't even exist to you. And when he whispered in your ear about wanting to take you home, you followed, too willing to feed that sixteen year old foolish version of yourself that had a big crush on the cute, awkward boy next door.

You threw up all your regrets into his toilet the next morning, your skin and hair stinking of Clayton, startled, jumping as he mumbled something about his chef making you both breakfast as he passed by the bathroom, eyes trained on his phone, as one hand adjusted the waistband of the grey sweatpants he had grabbed after crawling out of his bed.

You ate breakfast quickly and quietly in one of his old t-shirts, the material thin and baggy, constantly checking your phone for calls and messages from Ty, but there was nothing after the message he sent about needing to pull a double shift at the hospital. Clayton's hand grabbed yours as you attempted to leave the table, pulling you closer, you whimpering as he snuck his hand under the shirt, tracing your hips with his fingers, asking you to stay a little longer.

Now might have been different if you had just said no.

“Do you even know why you're still with him?” His voice snaps you out of your head, whimpering as he nips at your jaw, the pain dull as his teeth graze your skin.

You liked Ty, even if no one else could understand why.

Though, did you love him?

Truthfully, no.

You knew you couldn't love a person and constantly cheat on them at the same time.

But you weren't ready to face the idea that you were just keeping him around because he gave you the emotional connection you knew Clayton wasn't going to provide.

"Tell me," Clayton rolls his hips against you, his hardness pressing into you to tease out another moan, "what do you like about him?”

"He's...uh...he's nice," you stuttered, hips bucking involuntarily as he continued to slowly grind against you.

"He's nice?" He raises his eyebrows. "That does not count."

"Yes, it does.”

"No, it doesn't," he laughs, curling his hand gently around your throat, but applying no pressure, "a lot of people are nice, it doesn't make them worthy enough to be your boyfriend." You rolled your eyes, scoffing. How could he even know what makes a person's boyfriend worthy when you knew it was no secret that Clayton preferred a no strings attached type of situation to a proper relationship. "And, also, nice is a bit of a stretch for that guy," he continues to belittle Ty, "he's not an asshole but nice is a little generous.”

"You don't even know him," you bite back, overcome with the urge to defend your boyfriend.

"Whatever," Clayton shrugs, moving his hand so he could kiss your neck, "you don't need to sell it to me why you're still dating him." He nips at your neck, soothing the skin until there's another mark for you to cover up later. He hums as your head rolls back into the soft cushion of the pillow, and you whimper as you feel his lips travel up your neck to your ear. "I enjoy fucking someone's girlfriend," he whispers, the heat pooling further between your legs, "so maybe you should stay with him.”

"Yeah, well what if I've been thinking about not fucking you anymore?" You fight back with a question. It was a lie but he didn't need to know that. He was a drug that you were addicted to, and no amount of rehab or interventions was going to make you quit just yet. "What would you do then?”

"Is that right?" You nod your head, trying to keep the facade up. "Why?”

"Because why do I need you when I already have a boyfriend?”

He props himself above you, his weight distributed on both of his hands, that silver cross dangling in your face. "That's your reasoning for not wanting to fuck me anymore?" He asks, trying not to laugh in your face. "Because you have a boyfriend?”

You frown. "It's a valid reason." But one that wasn't true.

"Oh, baby, I don't think you can stop," he teases you, seeing right through your act, "how are you going to go back to your boring fucking boyfriend and not wanna pull your hair out? You're going to have to deal with him, whilst knowing you could never fuck me again. Is that what you really want?" He raises his eyebrows, his head tilting to the side as he studies your face, looking for a reaction. "How will you survive having to deal with his vanilla sex 24/7? Hmm? Having to deal with a man who doesn't treat you the way you want to be treated?” He lowers his voice. “Someone who won't put you in your fucking place?”

His hand encases your throat again, this time squeezing a little, as he dips to kiss you. There's no precision to his moves, only a hunger to satisfy. You drop into the mattress as you melt into his kiss, feeling your body dip further into his bed as his body presses into you, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth with dominating licks.

His free hand grips your thigh, pulling your leg higher around his waist, making sure you could feel his hard length against your cunt. "Do you feel that, baby?" He asks between messy kisses. "Do you feel my hard cock against your pretty pussy?" He has you whimpering as you feel the head of his cock run against your slit, teasing you.

He releases your throat, only to pinch your jaw, angling your head back so you were looking up at him. "You may be his girlfriend, but as far as I'm concerned, you belong to me.” The hunger in his voice and the desire flooding his eyes has your pussy clenching desperately around nothing. It wasn't even long ago it was last filled, but you were itching for it again.

"Tell me whose bed you're in," he orders, his Adam's apple bobbing as he takes a deep breath in.

"Yours," you answer.

"Tell me who made you cum so fucking hard earlier.”

"You did.”

"Tell me whose cock it was you took so well.”

Your hands press to the back of his head, pulling his lips up against yours as you answer, "yours.”

He licks his lips, his hot breath fanning her face as he whispers, "tell me whose cum has been leaking out of this pussy all afternoon.” He drives two fingers inside, your walls fluttering around their long length, pushing what was left over back deep inside.

"Yours," you whine as he keeps pumping his fingers, his thumb pressing against your clit, playing with it in slow, agonising strokes.

"Good girl," he praises her, groaning and gasping as he finally slides his cock inside, replacing his fingers, greedily sucking them clean, before fisting his fingers into your hair, pulling your head back so he could kiss, nip and suck on your neck, "good fucking girl."

He pushes his whole length in, moaning baby as your pussy already clenches around him.

He keeps a steady pace, thrusting his hips, his hot breath fanning your face as he groans the word "yes" every few seconds. "Who's going to treat you this good, baby?" He asks, watching intensely as your eyes squeeze tightly shut and you bite your bottom lip. "Hmm? Will that boring fucking boyfriend of yours fuck you this good? Huh?" He pinches your jaw. “No,” he grunts, snapping his hips hard into you, “no, he fuckin' wouldn't, would he?”

Shaking your head, you tell Clayton what he was smart enough to already know. "No," you whimper, digging your nails into his shoulders, piercing the skin, needing to hold onto something, anything.

"That's right," he groans, smirking as his name topples off your lips, your perfect-sounding moans like sweet music to his ears. He listens for the sound of your breath hitching in your throat as he thrusts turn harder, short snappy movements that make you feel him deeper than before. "Does that feel good, baby?" He asks, his hand finding its place around your neck again. Your eyes pop open as you start to feel the pressure build around your neck, mewls of pleasure rolling off your lips. "Oh, god, yes," you catch his eyes, holding his gaze, a rare thing, "you feel so good. Do you like the way that feels, baby? You like being fucked by your friend, instead of your boring fucking boyfriend?"

"Please, Clay-"

You were a moaning, mewling mess underneath him, your legs pushed open, sprawled apart, so he could see himself going in and out of you, your pussy wrapping tightly around his thick length, the shaft glistening under the bedroom lights. No one could take him like you could; you were made for him. The perfect fit.

Curling your fingers around his wrist, you urged him to squeeze tighter. "Please," he cocks his brow, grinning from ear to ear, and obliged your request, "I'm so close!”

"Already?" You protest as he slows, pulling out until just the tip was nestled inside, waiting to slide himself back in. "No, no, no," he murmurs, shaking his head and adjusting his hold on your neck, "not yet, baby. You gotta wait."

"No," you whine, pleading with your eyes for him to let you cum. Pushing yourself against his body, your lips ghosting his, chasing them as you try to kiss him. "Clay, baby, please," you sounded crazy and pathetic, blubbering and whimpering as you begged for him to finish it, "I need you to let me cum."

"You need it, huh?" He bites his bottom lip. "You need it that bad, baby? So needy for me. Are you that desperate to come all over this cock?”

"Yes, yes," you pant, nodding your head and squirming underneath him, "I need it so badly.”

He pulls out, sitting up on his knees, jerking his hand up and down his shaft. "Come here and clean up this mess," he instructs, beckoning you over, grinning when you're quick to obey him, taking his hard cock into your mouth. Drool pools in his mouth as he takes in the sight of your ass sticking up in the air, back arched perfectly as you keep taking him down your throat. "You look so fucking sexy like this," he groans, weaving his fingers through your hair, pulling on it as you pull your mouth off of him, "your ass sticking up in the air as you suck on my cock.”

His eyes roll back as you glance up at him, sweetly smiling as your tongue swirls around the tip, tasting yourself on him. "You're such fucking a slut," he pushes on the back of your head, sliding his cock back into your mouth, "sucking on my cock and letting me use that pussy behind your boyfriend's back." He grunts as you splutter around his cock, spit running down your chin as he fucks himself deeper and harder into your mouth. "But you like that don't you? You like being my dirty, needy, fucking slut. Crawling over to me like some good pup, jumping to do whatever I say.”

He pulls you off, pulling you up onto your knees, the two of you kneeling in front of each other. He was still taller than you, towering over your body as he leaned down. He cleans the spit from your chin, pushing his thumb into your mouth, both of you moaning together as you suck on it.

"Say it," he orders, "say you're my dirty fucking slut.”

"I'm your dirty fucking slut," you echo, moaning into his mouth as he crashes his lips against yours, tugging harshly on your hair, and slipping his tongue into your mouth.

"He'd never treat you like this, would he?" Clayton asks, holding tightly onto your jaw. You shake your head but his tight grip doesn't allow for much movement. "I bet he doesn't even know how much of a whore you are," he belittles her, hissing as she digs her nails into his bicep, "addicted to a cock that's not his. You're addicted to this dick, aren't you? You can't live without it; that's why you keep coming back to me, isn't it?”

You nod, humming in agreement. "I just want you," you admit, your face growing warm from your little slip up, accidentally confessing it.

"But you can't have me, can you?" He lets go of your jaw, smoothing out your hair as he runs the back of his hand down the side of your head. "Not the way you want me, can you?" You bite your lip, shaking your head. "That's right," he hums, kissing your temple, sweet and soft, "now get back on your back.”

You lie back down, kissing Clayton as he slots himself back between your legs, whimpering against his mouth when you feel him running the head of his cock against your slit.

"Beg me to stop teasing you," he murmurs against your lips, seeing the annoyance grow in your pretty eyes, "beg me, fucking do it!”

"No," you mumble, finding the strength in your already tired body to flip you both over. You straddle his waist, grinding your pussy against his shaft, before sinking down onto his cock. Its thickness stretches you out, filling you up more than it did before, taking him deeper. "I'm done begging," you say, bouncing your hips. His hands hold onto your hips, fingers bruising your skin, grinning as he helps you to quicken your pace. "I'm just gonna take it," you whimper, the coil in your stomach tightening as you throw your head back.

"Then fucking take it, princess," Clayton encourages, feeling himself twitch inside you, "take it all; take every last inch of me." He grabs your wrist, pulling you down to kiss him, his hand wrapping back around your neck when you are close enough to him. You squeak against him, his clammy skin slapping against yours as he thrusts up into you. "I want to think of this moment when you're hanging out with your boyfriend tomorrow," he tells you, squeezing your throat until you were a second away from gasping for air, "I want you to think about me filling this pussy up with so much cum, marking it as mine.”

"Yours," your rhythm loses focus as you come for him, "this is yours.”

"That's right," he hums, lips brushing against your warm skin, kissing against the underside of your jaw, nipping at you, "it's mine; this fucking pussy is mine. No one-" He cuts himself with a harsh groan, your slicked walls fluttering and pulsating around his cock, squeezing him, making it hard to have a calm, clear mind. "Oh, fuck, baby," his head rolls back into the pillow, eyes squeezing shut, "just like that - gonna make me cum so hard baby." He stops thrusting, pushing down on your hips to keep you still, bottoming himself out inside of you. "Oh, fuck yes, baby, fuck-" His breathing is rigid, stopping and starting as he comes.

You roll off him, a ghost-like grin etched onto your swollen lips as you listen to him trying to to catch his breath, still praising you and your body.

Turning to the bedside cabinet, you pick up your phone, mumbling, "shit," under your breath.

"What is it?" Clayton asks, propping himself up onto one elbow.

"Ty's been trying to phone me," you answer, not seeing the look of disgust on Clayton's face as he hears Ty's name slip so easily off your lips. You lie back down, your legs still a little bit shaky. "I should call him back," you think out loud to yourself "see what he wants.”

He groans as he sits up, raking his fingers messily through his hair. "Well, you do that," he mumbles, standing up from the edge of his bed, "I'm gonna go take a shower; maybe you should join me once you're done lying to your boring boyfriend.”

The phone rings twice before Ty picks up, the faint buzzing of the hospital in the background. “I'm gonna need to pull a double tonight,” Ty says, without saying hello, “you're okay with that, right?”

“Sure,” you mumble, it's his second double shift this week, and might've been pissed off if you actually cared, “that's fine.”

“You okay?” You roll your eyes at his ‘doctor voice.’ “You sound a little out of breath.”

“I'm fine,” you lie, “just got back from a run. Getting more practice for the marathon.” He had signed you both up for some hospital charity run without asking you.

Ty chuckles. “I’ve already told Dana we're coming for her recording.” Dana was one of the nurses, a pure health nut and ran the charity run every year. Ty talked about her a lot. “Okay, well, I better go,” he says, his name being called in the background, “love you.”

“Yeah, you too,” you lie, sighing as the line goes dead, and you toss your phone onto Clayton's bed.

“What did he want?” Clayton asks, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair as you step into the shower.

“He's pulling a double shift,” you answer, turning your head away as he turns to kiss you. He frowns as he meets your cheek, his hand slipping down to pinch your bum as punishment. “You've still got shampoo in your hair,” you mumble, tipping his head so you could wash the rest of it out.

“Did he just pull a double the other day?” He winces as a stray bit of shampoo gets in his eyes, wiping his face quickly. “I'm beginning to think he spends more time at the hospital than he does with his own girlfriend.”

“Watch it, you almost sound like you actually care,” you bite, tucking the sides of his hair behind his ears. “Done.”

His arm snakes around your waist, turning you carefully, and walking you back until you're pressed against the shower wall. The tiles are cold and wet, and you gasp, arching your back.

“So, what you're saying is that you're free tonight?” He grins, and you don't like what it means. He dips his head into your neck, kissing over the marks he'd left earlier. “I get to keep you for a little longer.”

“No, actually,” you hold onto his shoulder and push him away, “Andrew has a new exhibition opening downtown. You could come.”

His face scrunches. “He flirts with you too much.”

“Jealous?”

He snorts. “Never,” he kisses your jaw and then your chin, mumbling into your skin as he marks out a path down your neck, sinking onto one knee, “because I get to taste this pussy, and he never will.”

“So, will you come with me, or not?”

“Depends,” he kisses both of your hips, “what's in it for me?”

“What do you want?”

He looks up at you, lips twitching. “You know what I want, baby.” You shake your head quickly, your face growing warm. “Come on, not even just the tip? It won't even be the whole thing.”

“No, Clayton,” you tell him, your voice firm.

“Fine,” he sighs, dragging out a breath, “I'll go if you cancel whatever boring plan you have with Ty tomorrow.”

“No,” you shake your head, you had already cancelled too many plans with Ty just because Clayton had asked you to, “I can't.”

He stands up, purposely taking a step back as you instinctively lean into him. “Then have fun all on your own tonight then,” he says, turning his back to you as steps out of the shower. He grabs a towel, wrapping it around his waist.

“Asshole,” you mutter, turning your back to him, fingers fiddling with temperature.

“Heard that,” he chuckles, and you glance over your shoulder to see him lingering at the door, watching you. “Cancel your plans and I'll come with you. Simple as that, princess.”

“I'm good,” you smile, knowing your next words were bound to get under his skin, “I'm sure I'll just have as much fun with Andrew.” His jaw ticks and your smile grows sickly sweet. “Can you grab a towel please?”

He leaves and reappears a few seconds later with two clean towels, placing them on the counter. “Is there a dress code for tonight?” You shake your head. “Then you better tell Andrew you've got a plus one.”