WARNING 18+ ONLY

You two were having takeout and watching a movie when you accidentally brushed his thighs. He tensed and prayed that he wouldn’t get hard. Not everything happens the way you wish in life, and he did.

You didn’t seem to notice at first, but you did after a few moments.

You didn’t hesitate to ask if he wanted help with that and Chris froze.

It was obvious, at least to you, that you were attracted to him and wanted him.

“You don’t have to. It’s fine, honestly, it’ll go away.” He said, feeling bad for making you feel that way.

“I want to, Chris.”

He hesitated for a moment, shifting to adjust himself so his pants weren’t as tight.

“Are you sure?”

You moved to his lap, kissing his neck and he groaned at the sensation.

“Absolutely.”

You didn’t sleep together that night. You two made out and you ended up giving him a blowjob. Chris swore he could have cum just from watching you with your swollen lips around his cock and his hand in your hair.

It wasn’t awkward like he expected it to be. The way you smiled up at him made him feel comfortable with you.

He paid you extra that night and you kissed his cheek after he drove you home.

You two ended up meeting even more after that night, most of them ending in the same way.

You mainly focused on his pleasure, but he wouldn’t let you without returning the favour. In fact, it was usually you who came first from his fingers whilst you sat on his lap, lips attached to his neck.

He gets off on getting you off. Loves hearing you moan and seeing your blissful face as you cum.

The first time you two had sex, he had to hold himself back. You were just so perfect for him, and he could have cum within seconds just from how good you felt around him.

Eventually, though, Chris ended up developing actual feelings for you, more so than just a friendly companion. He cursed himself so much over this and planned on never telling you out of fear of making it awkward; he really didn’t want you to leave him.

It was the same for you, of course. It wasn’t just about companionship and money anymore; you genuinely liked him.

With your meetings becoming more frequent, it was hard to hide your feelings, but thankfully for you, Chris is pretty much oblivious to such a thing, so the blushing cheeks weren’t too worrying.

Chris, however, didn’t have to work too hard to hide his feelings. His job had him hiding a lot of his emotions, so it was quite natural to him. Although, it was somewhat obvious with how often he was asking you to meet up and how he was paying you more, but you didn’t want to read into it too much, worried that it was just your feelings making you think this.

Despite how well he could hide his feelings, he wasn’t exactly good with jealousy, so when he found out you were hanging out with a guy who clearly liked you, he wasn’t happy.

Chris knew that he had no right to feel this way, you weren’t his, but he couldn’t help it. He really really liked you, and the thought of you being with someone else hurt him in a way he never knew could. So, he did something he shouldn’t have, he called you to come over.

His voice sounded stern on the phone which had you worried that you had done something wrong. All the way to his apartment, you were anxious.

The moment the door closed behind you, Chris’s lips were on yours, one hand on the back of your neck whilst the other rested on your waist.

You were shocked, but quick to reciprocate the kiss.

“Chris, what’s wrong?” You asked after you two had slept together. “You seem sad.”

Chris hesitated for a moment, avoiding your gaze for a second as he figured out what to say to you.

“I don’t like seeing you with other men.” He said, and immediately your cheeks felt warm.

“Why?”

“Because I like you, as more than a sugar baby and definitely more than a friend.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you simply kissed him again, hoping it expressed your feelings to him.

It was a sweet kiss, unlike the others before.

“Brother, am I to believe you did not come away with a bride?”

You hide your smile, helping your lady pin her long fiery hair into place. Prince Redfield snorts and crosses his arms. 

“You are correct, dear sister,” he glares at her through her looking glass, brown eyes locking onto her blue ones, “she seemed to be spoken for.”

“By whom?”

He shifts uneasily, dropping his hands as he runs one through his messy brown hair. 

“I cannot say only that it seemed to be more of a social call,” he answers cagily.

His gaze flickers around the room until he meets yours, making you quickly drop your eyes back down to the Princess. 

“Did you hire yourself a new lass?” He asks humorously. 

“If you must know, Lord Burnside sent her from his estate,” Princess Claire huffs out, letting you place the last pin in her hair before standing up, “she is to stay with me and be my lady-in-waiting.”

Prince Chris nods, “Welcome to our home.”

You curtsy and bow your head, “Thank you, my lord.”

When you stand up straight, his brown eyes are staring at you, lips lifted in a grin. Attention shifting to his sister, he offers her a lazy salute. 

“I shall see you at dinner later. I’m taking the dogs out hunting,” he turns back to you, sending you a wink, “my lady.”

As he slips out the door, the Princess rolls her eyes. 

“Pay him no mind, he’s but an oaf,” she brushes her skirts down, “now, let us join the other ladies.”

After an extremely long, and quite boring, social call with the other ladies in the castle, the kitchen boy enters to announce supper is ready. Falling in step behind your mistress, you follow her into the grand dining hall where other lords and ladies have gathered. 

“Chris told me he asked these cretins to leave,” she whispers to you angrily, “they only sup at our table to try and garner his attention.”

You hum and nod, “Maybe he wishes to keep an eye on them, my lady?”

She frowns and lets you help her into her seat near the head of the table, catching the Prince’s attention. 

“And what gossip are you two lasses whispering about?” His brown eyes shift between you two, a smile playing across his lips. 

“Just that you have poor taste in company,” the Princess sniffs haughtily, “how goes the hunt?”

Prince Redfield laughs, voice loud and boisterous, “If not for my company, you would not have a little lord of your own would you, dear sister?”

His amusement turns to you, “What say you, lady?”

“It is not my place to judge, my lord,” you bow, stepping back from Princess Claire’s seat to stand with the other servants. 

“Aye, tis good you know your place,” he chuckles a little lower and it makes your body feel warm. 

As they dig into the feast before them, you sneak glances of the Prince. He’s tall and broad, his dark hair and brown eyes striking with his bearded face. A small scar cuts across his eyebrow, but it only enhances his looks. He catches you staring once and grins rakishly making you drops your eyes, shyness creating a warmth in your body. 

After dinner is finished, various manservants move the tables out of the way for that evening’s entertainment. The Prince and Princess welcome the band of musicians and dancers, sitting atop their thrones to oversee all. Being beckoned by your lady, she sends you off to prepare her rooms with the other maids so you may learn the routine. 

Once her chambers have been made ready, you bid the others goodnight and walk along the corridor to wait upon the Princess once more. A large shadow moves away from an alcove and you gasp, clutching the neck of your gown. 

“Didn’t mean to frighten you,” Prince Chris steps further into the light given from the sconces on the wall. 

“Apologies, Prince,” you quickly curtsy, “I am not used to the castle just yet.”

“How does it fair to Lord Burnside’s?” He steps closer, slowly corralling you into another alcove— unseen from prying eyes. 

“Oh it is much more impressive, my lord,” you smile, “such an honor to be here and serve his beloved Princess.”

“An honor?”

He hums and draws closer to you until you step away to keep some distance only for your back to press against cold stone.  Heat pools low in your stomach, knowing exactly what kind of intimate position this places you in with the Prince. 

“Is it an honor to serve me? Tis my castle you live in now,” he murmurs, hand brushing across your cheek to trace your jaw and down your neck. 

“O-of course, my lord.”

Shivering, you wet your lips, hands falling to your side. You won’t deny that you have thought the Prince a handsome man from the times he and his sister have visited Lord Burnside. You never dreamt you would catch his eye in such a way; it’s thrilling and illicit, arousal pulsing through your body. 

He braces a forearm against the wall next to your head, his other hand gripping your waist before trailing down your hip. Gasp hitching in your chest, your eyes flutter as he pets down your gown and begins to pull it up your legs. With a warm hum, he slips a hand under your skirts to cup your leaking sex. 

“Such a wet mess betwixt your legs, my pretty lass,” he coos in your ear, thick fingers petting across your clit before spreading your lips to tease against your dripping hole, “are you going to let your lord have a taste?”

“Whatever you wish,” you whimper, nipples tightening as he laughs and kneels down at your feet.

“Lift these skirts,” he directs, hands sliding up your calves to grip your thighs. 

A soft gasp falls from your mouth as you grab the bottom of your gown and drag it up, baring your lower body to Prince Redfield. With a wicked grin, he kisses your mound. 

“Think I’ll eat this fat cunt,” he noses at your clit, tongue parting your lips, “don’t be too loud.”

With those words ringing in your ears, the Prince laps at your hole, tongue spearing into your cunt with eagerness. Your fingers grip your skirts so tightly your knuckles hurt. Biting your lip, you keen in your throat as the Prince grinds his face up into your wet heat. His beard scratches at your sensitive skin and increases the pleasure to the point of pain. 

“Oh,” a soft whispering moan escapes your mouth when Prince Redfield flattens his tongue and drags it up to your swollen bundle of nerves. 

His tongue flutters wildly, lapping at your pudgy bud until your hips rock into his mouth. With a low chuckle, he slips his middle and ring finger into your leaking hole. 

“Such a dirty whore,” he pulls back and spits on your cunt, “letting me ruin you like this. What would your mistress think?”

Whimpering, you clench your eyes shut, trying to hold back any noise. Your body burns hot like an ember as the Prince laughs and goes back to licking and kissing your dripping cunt. Pleasure overrides your senses, the only thing you’re aware of is the mouth latched to the apex of your thighs; of the stillness in the empty corridor of the castle; of the utter mess leaking down your legs and dripping onto the stone floor. 

The Prince pulls away, his brown eyes nearly black in the torchlight, “Shall I use my cock so that we both feel good?”

“We shouldn’t,” you whimper while he stands up to his full height, hands undoing the lacing on his trousers. 

He pulls his stiff cock free and your lips part with a sigh. He’s thick and long, swollen tip dripping with seed as he strokes the length. With a low laugh, he presses you against the wall harder, hand gripping the base of his cock and dragging it against your soft folds. 

Whimpering softly, you cover your mouth while he taps the head against your swollen bundle before parting your cunt to dip into your hole.

“Shall I take you as a husband takes a wife?” He rumbles, dragging his cock back up to rub and bump against your clit, “shall I fill you with my royal seed til you’re dripping and staining the floor?”

You know you should say no, should beg his forgiveness and deny him any claim to your body. But you’ve only had a few fumbles in the hay with men no more knowledgeable than boys. Price Redfield is offering you a chance to experience something you’ve only dreamt about. 

Nodding, you dare not move your hands away from your mouth. He smiles crookedly and notches his cock at your entrance. 

“Good girl,” he whispers as he slowly presses inside your wet heat.

Your eyes roll back as he presses deeper and deeper inside your body, cunt sucking him in eagerly, inner walls fluttering and pulsing around his thick cock. 

“Greedy girl,” he rasps against your ear once he bottoms out, balls lightly smacking against your skin. 

He pulls out halfway before sinking back in to the hilt, your chest heaving in silence. 

“How does it feel?” He drops one hand away from the wall to ghost across your swollen bud, “how does a Prince’s cock feel in your fat cunt?” 

You gasp weakly, hands falling away from your mouth to scratch at his broad shoulders. He chuckles and dips down to kiss you, beard rough against your cheeks as his tongue delves into your mouth much how he ate your cunt earlier. 

He pulls away with a wet kiss, “Answer me, lass.”

Your mind feels like an empty pool of pleasure, body singing with it as he thrusts his cock into your squelching hole. 

“It feels good, my lord,” you mewl quietly, eyes fluttering as he rubs your clit in slow circles, “it feels so good.”

He groans and grasps your thighs, dragging your back up the wall and hoisting you higher. His next thrust makes you cry out shamelessly as his cock fills you completely, hole stretching to take all of him at a new angle. 

“That’s it, pretty maid,” he grunts in your ear, “scream for me. Let everyone know the Prince is fucking your soft wet cunt where anyone can see.”

Your blood feels like it’s on fire, the pressure and pleasure builds in your core until you teeter over an edge you’ve only heard whispers of between the other maids. 

“Aye,” he laughs, brown eyes crinkling with warmth, “you’ll gift me with your sweet slick as I in turn give you my seed.”

You gasp and he bites your bottom lip. 

He whispers against your mouth, “Let me ruin you, my pretty lass.”

His fingers thrum across your swollen bud at the same time he bottoms out inside your cunt and it snaps the tension coiled inside your body.  With another low cry, your nails dig into his shoulders as your cunt bears down on his cock, inner walls milking him for his royal seed. He groans, hips flexing as he grips you tightly, thrusting hard and fast to chase his own end. 

Leaning forward, he sinks his teeth into the skin where your neck and shoulder meet as he pumps your cunt full of his spend. You moan weakly, feeling the sticky heat of his cum breeding your hole until it spills out to drip down your thighs. He pulls away with a grunt, more of his spend spattering onto the floor as your used cunt throbs. 

“Your mistress will not miss you for one night,” his blown out gaze slowly moves from your swollen cunt up to your hazy eyes, “shall I show you my quarters?”

With your nod, he gently places you back down onto your feet and drops your gown to cover the mess he made of your cunt. He presses a quick kiss to your temple and grasps your wrist. 

NSFW:

Will top/dom you but actually has no problem being a sub. He actually quite likes it.

Will not bring knives or guns into the bedroom. He hates bringing work home as it is, so he especially won’t bring it into the bedroom.

Huge size kink. He knows how big he is and uses it to his advantage.

Will mark you if you ask/if he does get jealous but it likely won’t be somewhere others can see. Sees sex as your own personal business and doesn’t want others to see anything like that on you. Actually worries about others thinking about you sexually, but he’ll never admit it.

Loves phone sex. He’s away a lot and just wants to hear your voice, even if it’s just a normal call.

Likes to pin your wrists above you; he just loves how you look up at him when he does.

Loves giving head more than receiving. His main priority is making you feel good. He gets off on you getting off.

Loves making out with you, and it will almost always lead to sex, especially if you’re sat on his lap.

Wants you to ride his thigh, he could cum from just watching you do so. Chris will guide you and help you if you get tired and does the leg bounce. Really enjoys it.

Needs to hear you moan, he adores the sounds you make almost as much as he adores you.

the highlight of dilf! chris’s day is always when it’s about to end—ironic, yes—when he steps into your shared home and the scent of you and your cooking greets him and his nostrils. it wouldn’t be long before small, hurried steps rush over to him, clinging onto his built leg.

“da-da!” she’s weightless, your daughter, raised in the air like a trophy as chris holds her in his arms. “honey, i’m home,” stereotypical. cliche. but it felt good saying it. after all, chris never thought he’d be able to have anyone to say that to. “i can tell, baby,”

after your daughter comes you. his beloved wife, his dream girl—peeking through the kitchen. “hey, beautiful,” he’s already striding, impatient. chris can’t wait to hold both of his girls in his arms. you take in your husband’s familiar scent of gunpowder and bourbon. chris kisses your forehead.

“you’re just in time for dinner. c’mon,” this—this small gathering, this catch up—was the beginning. he loved to listen after a long day at work ordering people. chris intently listened while your daughter explained her A+ drawing. “mhm? what about this, baby? what’s this . . orange looking thing?” “oh, so that’s . . ” his big hand rests atop yours, caressing your ringed finger. squeeze. chris's very own way to give you attention while he's lending an ear to your yapping daughter. another squeeze. i love you.

the night progresses faster than he expected. before he even realizes it, your baby girl's fast asleep, the dishes are clean and put away, and locks are double-checked right before the lights are shut off.

and the both of you? well.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ──

"i really missed you,"

his lips ghost your shoulder blade, puling your frame close as he spoons you. this moment, you, the family you gave him—this is what he lives for. what keeps him going.

"i missed you too, baby," his hand, clasped by yours, is brought to your lips as you leave kisses on his scarred knuckles. "i need you . . " there's no mistaking the erection grinding against your rear, or the now-free hand groping your breast.

"you have me,"

the kisses trail up your neck, and you're soon laid on your back as chris hovers atop you. the second your eyes meet, you're both closing the interstice between your bodies—lips meeting, arms cradling each other.

"mhhf,"

tongue greets tongue, and chris can't stop touching you, feel your warmth, your curves, under his palm. he missed this—yes, even though he comes to you almost every night. his cock's poking through his boxers, shamelessly rubbing himself on your inner thighs.

you break away, panting, lips glistening with mixed spit. chris doesn't hesitate to shift his kisses elsewhere. cheek. jawline. neck. "i wanna taste you, y/n," you can hear him hiss when your smaller palm cradles his bulge—eliciting a chuckle from you.

"but you just got home from work. aren't you tired?"

"for you?"

you both giggle, and chris buries his face in the crook of your neck again.

"never, baby. besides, when has that been an issue?" okay, touché—back then, before you two got married, he didn't even get rid of his gear first or wait 'til you both got in the bedroom.

for you, he always had the time and the energy. especially when it was to delve his tongue in between creamy folds.

and that's exactly how you find yourself. panties hanging from your ankle, digits interlaced together as he held your hands, built arms hooked around your thighs.

you tried your very best to keep it down, to stifle your moans. under different circumstances, you would've let these noises echo in your bedroom. but for now—

"shh, shh, baby,"

chris taunts, like he's not fuckin' brushing his nose against your clit, like his tongue wasn't jus' lapping up your twitching slit. "chris," you squeezed his hand. he only hummed, gliding his tongue up 'n down your pretty hole before lettin' it slide in you.

this is the only rare time you're thankful he lets go of your hand, because the moment a thumb began to caress your clit, you're slapping a palm on your mouth, to suppress the louder moans that dare come out.

if only chris could see you—you with your arched back, eyes lidded and brows scrunched up—it would have triggered something feral in him for sure. but he's too occupied, eyes closed while he savours your sweet taste, his favourite meal.

"mmmf,"

his colleagues said that he would eventually get tired of his wife, that he deserved to taste and feel something new. but they couldn't be more wrong. you were just as delicious. maybe even more delicious with the fact that you were his wife.

the pleasure stops, jus' for a bit. this gives you time to take a quick breather. "you okay?" chris peers up at you. you can faintly see his silhouette under the moonlight. "mhm, mhm. 'm just trying to keep quiet,” his deep chuckle buzzes against your skin.

"well, you gotta try harder." cheeky. you pinch his hand and he only lets out a playful yelp. in return, his lips envelop your clit—suckling hard. you almost squeal, immediately back to covering your mouth with your palm. he doesn't stop there, sliding a thick digit into your cunt and barely waiting for you to adjust to his phalange as he begins to piston it in and out of your dripping hole.

he was right—you did need to try harder. because, fuck—the noises easily slip past your lips, all thanks to his tongue and fingers that worked fucking wonders. "h, hnn—, chris . . " you groan. there's no mistaking the familiar tightening in your stomach. your hips grind against him, his face as you ache for more. aural confirmation wasn't needed, not right now, when your body said enough. chris only hums, gaze fixed on you and only on you. he adores how your body compensates for the lack of verbal expressions, fuuuuck . .

his hand breaks free from your grasp, only to caress your stomach and squeeze your tummy in his big hand. you were such a good wife to him—taking care of him and giving him the family he wanted—oh my god, his cock was leaking in his trousers.

it's like something feral has set off in him, and despite the fatigue in not just his arm and jaw—but his whole body, too—he wants nothing but to bring his wife—you—to your well-deserved peak. be a good husband as he should.

"oh, chris—♡,"

you whimpered softly, vox not above a shout. both hands cradle his head, sometimes tugging on soft, short hair, while you bite on your lower brim to suppress these filthy noises. "'m close," you whine, but he only wordlessly nods, allowing his jaw some respite as his tongue begins to swirl on that sensitive bud. he adds a second digit—and it slides in easily with the help of the mess he made. you and chris both let out restrained groans.

the coil in your stomach jus' gets stronger 'n more palpable, with thick digits ramming in and out of you so mercilessly.

there's not much of a choice but to succumb to this pleasure, letting those pretty eyes roll back, your palm muting every whimper as your hips grind against him. another stroke of his fingers, you're gushing—back beautifully arched as you make a mess all over his face and digits. chris doesn't complain—will never complain—lapping you up so eagerly.

"mmh, fuck,"

sweet—too sweet. nothing will ever satiate this greed of his. chris hungrily caresses your body, every trembling part of you greeted with the warmth of his palm and a squeeze. "oh, chris," you softly whine, letting your hand rest upon his.

chris begins to cover your thighs in kisses, stubble brushing against your soft skin. it wasn't long 'til he's made his way up to your abdomen, leaving kiss after kiss after kiss before he hiked up higher to your breasts, collarbone, jaw . .

"hey, handsome,"

his cheek is nicely cradled, a thumb caressing his face as you both chuckle. "hey, gorgeous," he pecks your lips, but can’t help himself from devouring them. his tongue tastes like you. your legs find themselves wrapped around his waist, closing any gap between your bodies and letting his still-clad bulge press against your dripping cunt.

"you're so beautiful, mrs. redfield," chris says once your lips have parted. "uh-huh. you sayin' that t'get in my pants?" you coo, reaching over to tug on his boxers. "clearly, it's working."

chris sits up for a moment, raising one leg and resting it on his chest. not even your ankle—leg, actually—was safe from his kisses, other hand completely pulling his boxers down; his leaking cock springing free.

"i love you so much,"

"i love you too . . "

holding his cock by the base, he slaps the thick girth atop your cunt. you can hear just how wet you still are with every audible collision. soon, it was his tip rubbing against your slit, lathering his crown with your juices.

"put it inn," you huff, and chris only smiles at your impatience. as requested, the tip sinks into your folds. a sound blooms—slick, obscene—showing just how badly you needed and wanted your husband.

"you're so wet," a groan leaves his lips as he hovers atop you, taking a thigh with him and letting it press against your chest. he loves watching your eyes flutter as he further stretches you out. "oh, fu—," a palm is clamped over your mouth, immediately silencing your loud moans. he can't really blame you, because he was havin' trouble keeping himself quiet, too.

"shh, shh, b, baby,"

chris whines like he isn’t slamming himself into you with a single push of his hips. how couldn't you moan, when the tip of his cock presses against your fucking cervix? it always surprises you how big and how thick he is, and judging at the look on chris's face, it surprises him too.

"so tight—fuck, oh my god,"

he drags himself out, slowly and carefully, but the instant he plunges himself back into you, something jus' snaps and he can't fucking control himself, can't stop—won't stop fucking you. chris lifts his hand, jus' so he can rest them on the sides of your head. you're not sure if it's a good idea; it was harder to contain your moans, more than ever.

"chris—oh, fuck. feels good," you whimper, not daring to look away from your husband's face. "yeah? love my cock, baby?" you could only nod, distrustful of your mouth. "me too—me too. love you. love your pussy," chris is rambling, mindless praise slipping fro his mouth without proper thought. he keeps pounding you, making sure every thrust leaves you fucking stuffed. your whole body rocked, wood softly and subtly groaning under the weight of it all.

every thrust leaves you breathless and slack-jawed, and chris, ever the opportunist, crashes his mouth on yours; his tongue moving on its own, and invading your mouth. you couldn't catch your breath—not when you gladly returned his messy kiss.

"mhfff,"

mewled his wife—you—while you lewdly sucked on his tongue, indifferent with the saliva that smeared on your skins. a breather between reckless movements; you're granted a lungful when chris pauses. whatever logical, lucid thoughts he might've had are long, long gone now, consumed by the need to fuck you and make you feel so, so good.

a hand rises to guide your leg higher, completely folding you in half, body pliant 'neath his built frame. this was the favourite position chris loved having you in. he had the perfect view of your wide - eyed, fucked out look whilst feeling how your cunt lovingly clenched and sucked him in.

"you're so pretty, my pretty wife . . " he mutters, beginning to pummel into you again. you can't do anything but take it and leave crimson crescents on his biceps. "chris—fuckfuckfuck," you sobbed. it was taking everything in you to not scream his name like you usually did.

he was so—

"fucking deep . . ♡,"

each brush of his fat cock over your most sensitive spot makes your eyes roll, overwhelming pleasure making your legs quake and weak. "i k, know, sweetheart. i know. you can t, take it." he murmurs mindlessly, tongue lapping up at the spit on your chin. "my good wife. you're m, my good wife,"

his familiar timbre is thick with need and adoration, and despite it barely being above his room voice, you can hear how wrecked and desperate he is.

"y, y/n—you're so g, good t'me. fuuuck, fuuuck, look at you. so p, pretty,"

"chris . . h, haaah—, you feel so so good—♡!"

yes, it had been a long day at work. stressful. tiring. but he could never ever be too tired for you. especially for you, and it shows through the way he fucked you. hard. fast. like every muscle in his body didn't ache with fatigue.

chris drives himself in to the fucking hilt, staying in place and barely moving, forcing you to feel every inch of his throbbing girth, forcing you to feel the ring of cream that circled his base, that tip kissing your perky cervix. "so fucking p, proud of you, sweetheart. taking me like this. all mine, mine . . " you don't just feel like paradise. you are his paradise.

"chris—," was perhaps the few things you could properly mutter. "love you so much. i love you . . h, hnngg—breed me. give m, me your cum," chris watches as your hand drifts between your sweaty silhouettes, settling right above your tryst and beginning gentle circles on your puffy clit.

god, you're so fucking wet, and chris begins to pound you again—harsher 'nd meaner than ever. "my needy girl—d, do you wanna cum? cum on this dick, baby?" "yesyesyesyes, oh fuck. you f, fuck me so good, chris—♡," his balls are aching from the praise. it's hard to multitask, when you can barely think for yourself. and even moreso when—

"s, sucha good husband to me—i love being y, your wife—♡!"

and the feeling of him flooding your cunt was unmistakable. your husband's fucking salivating, filling your cunt to the brim as he cums—a little too early. "d, did you—," "mhm, m, mhm . . " overstimulation is quickly settling in, but his hips don't stop. he can't stop.

his brows are scrunched upward, temples glistening with sweat as he whimpers, body trembling as he continued to fuck you through his orgasm. "baby—b, baby—oh god. oh, fuck." he stuttered. "p, please cum. pleasepleasepleaseplease. s, so sensitive—," chris babbled, brushing your hand clumsily to the side. "no, noo . . l, let meee . . " he choked out, replacing your fingers with his own. he knew just where to touch you, how much pressure he should press against that clit.

he's twitching inside you, cock sensitive 'n swollen. each push in of his hips, each kiss of his tip on your cervix is making him gasp and shudder. "chriiiiis—you're g, gonna make me cuuum,"

chris claims your plump brims in another liplock—though, he's barely kissing you, only pulling your tongue in his mouth as he sucks on the wet appendage feverishly.

"mmphfh . . ♡!"

he jus' wants to make his wife feel good, make her feel so pretty 'n adored. didn't matter if his forearm ached with enervation, or his hips burned for respite. your needs come first, always first, before his, and anything else.

it only takes a rough pinch to your clit before you're cumming undone—hips bucking against him as you gush messily, sobbing and soaking him, yourself, 'n the sheets. ensuring your secrecy and silence, chris completely devours your lips, swallowing any loud scream that dared to reverberate 'round your room.

and it takes him aback—a second orgasm making his eyes fucking water. he's cumming so, so much, filling your womb and your cunt 'til it leaked down your ass. he's so sensitive it hurts.

chris slams into you with brutal force, hips crashing down at his full weight and pinning you in place. he coaxes another orgasm, makin' you squirt in small, uncontrollable streams. you're so fucked out—can't even think straight. you can only cling on to chris as you tremble, lips mashing messily with his as you both ride out your aftershocks.

he pulls away before he completely crushes you, easing your legs down slowly 'til both your feet were planted on the bed. "y, you okay?" chris asked, palms roaming your shivering body—thighs, hips, waist—and kneading potential sore spots. "m, mhm. tired," tired was an understatement. felt like your limbs were sinkin' into the bed from how heavy they felt.

"you?"

"good. never better."

he slips out with a languid drag, already missin' the warmth of your cunt by the time he completely withdrew from you. a tongue glissades over his lips, watching your gaping cunt twitch as cum drips from it almost immediately. "you came a lot," you tease, and chris feels the warmth in his cheeks bloom.

"you were so sexy, baby." he pecks your cheek right before capturing your lips in a gentle, sweet kiss, albeit short-lived. "mm. let's get you cleaned up," chris gets up—tries to, anyway—but his legs give out almost immediately, you didn't even have the chance to blink.

"chris! are you okay?!"

"i, i'm fine!"

end.

“What do you mean he canceled?” Chris’s voice cracked through the speaker on your phone, “It’s Valentine's Day, what could possibly be his excuse this time?”

You sighed as you flopped onto your bed, “He said he’s putting in overtime at work.”

“And his dick in his secretary.”

“Chris!” you chastised. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to be reminded of it. 

“Sorry,.” he said in that way that made it incredibly clear he wasn’t sorry at all. “What I meant to say was: that’s a really shitty excuse.”

You chuckled a bit, “Wanna know what makes it worse?” you asked.

You heard Chris let out an exasperated sigh. “What?”

“He’s salary.”

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You knew your boyfriend's excuse of ‘I’m going to be at work late to meet this deadline (that’s two months away)’ was bullshit. But hearing just how pissed off Chris got about it put it into perspective just how bullshit it was. It felt vindicating.

“I’m going to kill him, you know.” Chris said.

You shook your head, as if he could see. “No you’re not.”

Chris was silent for a second. “I’m going to punch him?”

You rolled the thought around in your head. “Hmmm...Yeah, I’d allow that.”

“I’m going to punch him,” he said with a conviction that told you he really meant it. You smiled softly to yourself. You’d known Chris for forever, having met while you were in the foster care system together. He’d always been protective over you, and it was nice to know some things never changed.

Chris let out an agitated huff on the other end of the line. “So what’s the plan?” He asked. 

You scoffed. “What’s the plan? The plan is getting back into my pajamas and watching shitty reality tv to make myself feel better.” 

You didn’t have to see it to feel the indignation on his face. “You’re kidding? But you already got dressed and everything.”

“Thank you, Chris,” you groaned, “I was actually really hoping you’d rub salt in the wound. That’s why I called you, specifically.”

“I’ll take you out.”

“What?” You sat up in bed.

“I’ll take you out!” He said again, this time more sure of himself. “It’s not like I’m doing anything tonight, and unlike your ‘boyfriend,’ I’d be honored to take you out.” He spat out the word “boyfriend” as if it tasted like rot in his mouth, especially to give the label to your current partner.

You felt yourself fluster. “Chris-”

“It’s not a date.” He was quick to clarify. “It’s just…two friends hanging out on Valentine's Day, it doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

You bit your lip as you thought about it. If your boyfriend found out, he would be pissed. He’d never liked Chris, always convinced that he ‘just wants to fuck you.’ This would only add fuel to his fire. 

“Yeah, okay,” you finally said. There was no use in wasting a perfectly good outfit just sitting at home. And you had just spent an hour and a half on your makeup, so fuck it. Might as well hit the town with your best friend. 

You could hear the smile in Chris’s voice. “Sweet! I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

You smiled, getting up to look yourself over in the mirror and make sure you still looked presentable. “Sounds good,” You agreed, “I’ll see you then.”

💘💘💘

You were checking over your outfit one last time when the doorbell rang. Chris had told you to dress warm, so you did just that. And honestly, you felt pretty cute! “Coming!” You called as you rushed to the door. 

Chris was smiling on the other side, arm tucked behind him. “Hey,” he said, as he presented you with the bouquet he was hiding behind his back. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You were shocked as you took the flowers from him. “Awe, you didn’t have to do that,” you said, looking over the array. You smiled as you noticed the most prominent flower. Chris would have your favorite flower memorized.

He laughed, following you inside as you went to grab a vase. “Of course, I had to do it. Everyone deserves flowers on Valentine's Day.”

You returned with the bouquet, placing it in the middle of the coffee table. “How do you know if I got flowers today or not?” you sassed, “I do have a partner you know.”

Chris gave you a look. He said your name, unamused. “Come on.”

You sighed, “yeah, well, you’re right. All he got me today was frustration.” You shook your head, trying to shake the disappointment out. 

Chris noticed. He gave you a smile, and held out his elbow for you to take, determined not to let you dwell. “Shall we?” he asked.

You took it with a soft giggle. “We shall.” You nodded as he led the way out the door and to his car. An old clunker of a car, held together with duct tape and pure hubris on Chris’s part. It wasn’t even like he couldn’t afford a new one, or at least to replace it. He just insisted that this one ran fine, which was technically true, so why go into debt? 

Luckily, he kept it a lot cleaner these days than he did in highschool. You realized the interior was actually really well kept. “Since when did you stop treating your car like a trashcan?” you asked, before realizing that one probably should have gone through the filter once or twice more before being let out. “Sorry,” you quickly added.

Luckily, he took it on the chin with a laugh. “Since like, five years ago when I realized I should probably take care of my investments. Are you really only noticing now?” As embarrassing as it was to admit, yeah you were. You felt kinda bad, it’s not like you didn’t hang out with Chris as often as you guys could. And you had been in his car countless times in the last five years, this really shouldn’t have been news to you. You guessed you just hadn’t thought to look.

You shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. I guess it’s normally pretty dark when I’m in your car. I’ve never really seen it in the daylight.”

Chris looked out the window at the setting sun, then looked at you and smiled. “Yeah, that makes sense.” he shrugged, using one arm to drive and letting the other rest on the center console. 

You wanted a distraction, so you went straight to the CD binder he still kept in his glove box. “Anything you wanna listen to?’ You asked.

He shook his head, “Whatever you want. It shouldn’t be a long drive anyway.” He informed you. With that in mind you flipped through the collection. The usual suspects were all here, as always. Queen– obviously, Kiss, Journey, Rolling Stones, all the classics you’d grown up on, as well as some new faces! Blink 182 was unexpected, Green Day less so. At some point he’d taken your advice and finally checked out Nirvana. He seemingly liked ‘em enough to look into the Foo Fighters.

Specifically, he’d picked up the album The Colour and The Shape. Which, just so happened to have one of their finer songs on it, in your humble opinion. Chris said the ride wouldn’t be a long one, so you popped the CD in and skipped straight to track eleven: Everlong

If Chris was a dog, his ears would have perked up. “Ooo, good choice.” he smiled his approval, nodding along with the opening riff. 

You shrugged, “Well, it was either this or Californication”

He laughed fondly, “Damn, it’s actually been a minute since I listened to that one.” He confessed. “Do you remember when it first came out?”

“Yes!” You laughed, “We raided a 7-Eleven and drove around all night listening to it on repeat,” You remembered that night fondly. Driving down all of the back roads running on pure nothing more than high-fructose corn syrup and the kind of adrenaline that only came from laughing with your closest friend in the entire world at three AM.

Chris grinned. “I remember you trying to analyze the lyrics, despite the fact the Red Hot Chili Peppers are a pure vibes band only,” he teased.

You brushed him off, “All art is made to be interpreted.”

“Guess you’re right,” He conceded, “Still. That was a nice night.” He smiled, and for a second, with the setting sun casting the perfect hazy halo around him. You realized just how handsome Chris actually was. When he was laughing and laid back, when the lowlight made his grey eyes pop, he seemed almost too good to be true. These were all thoughts that you shouldn’t really be having about your best friend. 

You needed a distraction. You looked out the front windshield to find anything worth commenting on. Luckily, you spotted something right away.

“Is that a ferris wheel?” you asked, pointing out the window.

He grinned, clearly proud of his date-that’s-not-a-date location. “Yeah!” He confirmed, “I guess the town wants to do an annual Valentines Day fair now. This is the first one.”

You tilted your head a bit to get a better look at him. “Isn’t that just a little bit corny?”

“Yeah, well, you try to plan a date that’s not at all corny, see what you come up with,”he said defensively as he looked for a place to park.

You raised an eyebrow. “ I thought this wasn’t a date.”

Chris didn’t miss a beat. “It’s not,” he reaffirmed. “But it is, maybe, a historical event for the town that I figured we should get in on.”

“Yeah, but also you called it a date,” You pointed out.

“Uh, actually, I said, ‘You try to plan a non-corny date’ not ‘this is a date.’ Those are two different things,” he said with an over dramatic head roll. “So checkmate.” He laughed at his own exaggerated display, which caused you to laugh with him. 

You shrugged, “Whatever it is, as long as I get a funnel cake, I’ll be happy.” The cold hit you as you stepped out of the car. You had on one of your thicker coats, but it was still February, and there was going to be a chill in the air no matter how many layers you wore. It was to be expected.

What was to be slightly less expected was Chris’s arm finding its place around your shoulders, holding you close to him and blocking the wind with his body. He didn’t say anything about it, so you didn’t say anything about it. You’d never been scared of affection in your friendship, hugs were a common occurrence. This shouldn’t have even been noteworthy.

The sun was now fully set, letting the rainbow lights of the fair take center stage as the two of you lined up for tickets. It was surprisingly short, no doubt due to people just not really wanting to deal with the cold. It was a pleasant surprise, and you’d happily take the win. You listened to the sound of laughter and carnival music filling the air as Chris handled the ticket situation. You hadn’t been to a fair in years. No real reason why, you just hadn’t really considered going to one. Life just tended to get in the way of things like that. 

You found yourself actually really excited. “Come on,” Chris pulled you out of your daze, “Funnel cakes this way.” You smiled as you huddled closer to him and followed him to the various food trucks and pop up booths. 

The deep fried smells of a festival were always pleasant, inviting you to over indulge in whatever monstrosities the carnies had come up with this year- your arteries be damned. You found yourself shaking with excitement as you approached the booth. Or maybe that was the cold. Who knows! 

“Man, I can’t remember the last time I had a funnel cake,” He confessed as the two of you joined a line.

You nodded in agreement. “Me either honestly,” You admitted, “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a carnival.”

Chris thought for a minute. “Me either actually. That… Kinda sucks.”

“Yeah, it does. Honestly I always have a lot of fun at them, ya know?” 

“Yeah, I agree,” He smiled at you, “We’ll have to make a tradition of going every year. Well, assuming you haven’t dumped your current loser for someone better by then.” he shrugged.

You huffed an almost laugh and shoulder checked him gently. “Or that you haven’t found a nice girl by then.” 

He actually laughed at that. “Yeah, right.” He rolled his eyes dismissively, and before you could argue he was ordering the funnel cake. He looked back over to you, “You okay with sharing?”

“Oh yeah, that’s fine,” You said nodding and with a wave of your hand. You knew they charged way too much for what was essentially an ugly powdered doughnut. 

But god, was it a delicious ugly powdered doughnut. Money was exchanged and the two of you moved to the side to wait. “So, how much do I owe you?”

He looked at you as if you had just sprouted a second head and started speaking Klingon. “Why would you owe me?” he asked back.

Now it was your turn to look at him as if he had turned bright green and started speaking backwards. “Beeeeecause I plan to eat half of it? I figured I would at least pay for half?”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?” 

“I mean no,” he laughed. “I’m taking you out to help you feel better that your shitty boyfriend stood you up, I’m not gonna make you pay for the comfort food. What kind of jackass would that make me?”

You blinked at him. 

He blinked back. “He makes you pay when you go out, doesn’t he?”

“Sure does.”

“Do you at least take turns paying?”

“Well, it’s normally my treat if I ever actually get him to go out.”

“....Does he at least pay for his half?”

“Sometimes?”

Chris blinked incredibly aggressively at you. “I hate him.”

You nodded. “I know you do.”

He shook his head. “Genuinely I don’t get what you see in him. There’s like, literally a billion other guys in the world, you could have your pick of any of em.” He made a quick turn to grab the cake. 

You simply shrugged. “Not sure who else would put up with me.”

“Okay, so first off, no one is putting up with you,” he informed you. “Second off, I know at least ten guys off the top of my head that would go crazy for your number.”

“Is that Leon guy Claire keeps bringing to the Christmas party one of them?” You teased as you picked some fried dough off the plate. There were few joys in this life as pure as warm funnel cake.

Chris grimaced. “No. Well, yes, but no.”

You tilted your head. “Explain.”

Chris shook his head, “You don’t want him. He’s still hung up over a chick that got him shot.” He said as he popped a piece into his mouth. 

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “She shot him?!”

Chris quickly shook his head, waving his hand and trying to swallow the dough in his mouth so he could explain. “No no no no no, She got him shot. Like, he took the shot for her, she was not the one behind the trigger. To my knowledge.”

“Oh, okay. That is less bad.” You admitted with a nod as you took some more of the cake.

“Though, she has left him for dead at least twice.” 

You nearly choked on the cake. “You’re right, I don’t want anything to do with…whatever that is.” 

Chris chuckled and nodded, “Yeaaah. Don’t get me wrong, I love Leon to death, he’s a great guy. But much like you he has a habit of only wanting the worst people for him.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but then realized you had no real rebuttal. So you shrugged instead. “What can I say? I really know how to pick em! I just, don’t know how to pick em well I guess.” You laughed at your own poor judgement and ate another piece of the cake. 

Chris did too. “It’s fine,” he teased. “That’s what I’m here for. To let you know when you picked trash.”

“Not that I ever listen to you.” 

“At least you can admit you never listen to me.” He laughed, showing off his full smile. You noticed just how cute his dimples actually were. 

And then you noticed the powdered sugar on his nose. “Chris,” You giggled as you reached over. “You look like you party a little too hard on the weekends.” You joked as you wiped the powder away.

He pulled away, still giggling, “Christ! Your hands are cold!” He said, shaking his head, “We gotta do something about that.” He leaned back in, his grin mellowing into a soft smile as he looked at you. 

For some reason, you suddenly felt… shy?? Why the fuck did you feel shy? It was just Chris. “Well, what do you suggest?” you asked. 

“Hot chocolate,” he said with absolute certainty. “Best thing on a cold day.”

You nodded as you threw the now empty plate into the trash, “Sounds good to me!” You agreed as you moved to leave. 

Only for him to catch your wrist and your breath to catch in your throat. “Hold on,” he muttered, turning you back to him. “You got something on your cheek too.” He reached up, cradling your face in his palm and gently using his thumb to wipe the sugar away. He was gentle, using a delicate hand normally reserved for priceless works of art, or divine artifacts. 

And when your eyes met his, you could tell that’s exactly what he thought he was handling. No one had ever looked at you like that. No one had ever smiled at you like that. At least, not that you had noticed before. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

You stepped back, “Thanks!” You smiled, though you had to wonder if your nerves came through in it. “Now, come on! You brought up hot cocoa and that’s all I can think about now.”

Chris nodded, moving to keep up with you. “Right.”

It was a cold winter’s night, so more than a few of the food stands were advertising cheap hot drinks. The issue was none of them were actually cheap, as is the tradition with any sort of fair. Chris didn’t seem to mind though, which was becoming increasingly frustrating. 

“Chris, please,” you sighed. “You already paid for the tickets, and the funnel cake, just let me pay for the hot cocoa.”

He shook his head, as stubborn as a boulder. “No way. I already told you I’m not making you pay for a thing, especially not when I’m the one that invited you out.” 

You gave an agitated huff, hoping he could feel the lasers you were trying to shoot at him with your eyes. “I feel bad.”

“Why?” Chris asked, “There’s nothing to feel bad about, I want to do this for you.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Fine, but I’m only going to make you buy one. We’re just going to have to share.” 

Chris shrugged, finally stepping into one of the shorter lines. “Fine by me.” You rolled your eyes yet again for emphasis, but stood next to him while pretending to pout. You shoved your hands under your arms to try and keep them warm, and nestled your face deeper into your coat. He wrapped his arm around you again, pulling you closer into his warmth. 

You looked up to see him smiling down at you. “Thank you.”

You gave him a puzzled look. “For?”

“Letting me take you out tonight,” he shrugged with the arm he wasn’t using to hold you, “I’m having fun.”

You couldn’t fight the affectionate smile that crept onto your face. “I’m having fun too,” you admitted, leaning into him almost instinctively. This was nice. You tried to remember the last time you felt so comforted, but sadly drew a blank. If you had to take a guess, it was probably when you first started dating your current “partner.” He had been so loving and attentive in the beginning, a far cry from the asshole he was now. You used to hold out hope that things would go back to how they used to be. That this ice between you was only temporary, and once he got over whatever it was that was bugging him, he’d go back to being the man he used to be.

You were starting to accept the fact he never would. You didn't have too much time to dwell on it though, as Chris placed the hot paper cup in your hand. The warmth felt nice, and you instantly wrapped your other hand around it too. 

“Well? How’s it taste?” He asked. 

You took a sip, expecting the worst, as is common with simple yet over priced drinks, only to be pleasantly surprised. Your eyebrows went up as you took another sip. “It’s actually really good!”

Chris smiled, happy to see you pleased with the drink. “Oh yeah? Let me try,” He asked as you handed him the cup. His reaction mirrored yours. “I’m gonna be honest, I was expecting hot water. That’s actually not half bad.”

“Right?” You laughed.

He handed you the cup back. “Here, you hold onto it,” he said. “Keep your hands warm.”

You happily took the drink, but still tilted your head at him. “What about you?”

He shrugged, “I’ll live.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. “Oh come on Chris. You don’t have to be so self-sacrificing all the time, ya know.” 

He laughed defensively. “What? I’m not ‘self-sacrificing’ just cause I’m letting you warm up a bit.” he said as the two of you started to walk together again. 

“Whatever,” you shrugged, taking his hand in your now significantly warmer hand, “If you’re not gonna warm yourself, I’ll just have to do it for you.” you said as you took another sip.

Chris smiled. “Works for me,” He said as he took the cup for another drink, then quickly handed it back to you. The thought that his lips had been where yours had slipped into your brain almost undetected. Almost. When it transformed into “It’s almost like an indirect kiss,” you took notice. You thought about what it would have been like to actually kiss Chris. To hold him close to you and feel his stubble tickle your skin. To have him wrap his arms around you, to maybe even hold your face like he did before. His lips looked soft.

You snapped yourself out of that right the fuck away. Absolutely not, you were NOT allowed to think of Chris that way. You’d never thought of him like that before, you had no idea what had gotten into you.

Okay, well, maybe it wasn’t quite true that you had never thought of Chris that way before. You had been friends since grade school, it was only natural that at least once during all those years of close friendship you’d consider it. But it was never seriously, never for more than a fleeting second. He was your closest confidant, you couldn’t risk it.

But something about tonight felt so different from all the other nights before. Something in the way he moved and laughed; it felt so safe and warm, more so than usual. Something in the air made it feel like a risk worth taking.

NO. NO. STOP IT. You bit your own tongue to ground yourself back in reality. The reality where you were in a relationship and Chris was just your friend and absolutely nothing more. He said it himself, this wasn’t a date. How fucking cliche would it be to catch feelings for your best friend on Valentines Day night at a fucking lovers festival? What was this, shitty fanfiction? Absolutely not.

Oh shit, Chris had been talking this whole time and was looking at you now expecting you to speak. Fuck.  “Uh, yeah no, you’re totally right, I also think exactly what you think. Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at you. “You weren’t listening were you?”

“I was!” You said, far too defensively for someone who was actually listening.

Chris smirked with amusement. “Oh yeah? Then what was I talking about?”

Your stomach dropped. “Uhh… The band Queen?’

“Lucky guess.” 

“All I’m hearing is that I win.” 

He laughed at that. “Don’t you always?” he asked. 

It was at that point you spotted it. Hanging over with one of the carnival games, a grand prize to be won. It was a 4ft tall, grumpy, green, wolf plush. One with a cartoonishly exaggerated frown and angry eyes. You couldn’t help but think that was what Chris’s fursona would look like if he had one, and it made you laugh.

Which caught Chris’s attention. “What?” he asked, looking behind himself to where you were staring. 

“Look!” You pointed with childish excitement. “That wolf over there, it’s so cute!” You gushed.

“What, the green one?” he asked, already leading the two of you over to the game, “What’s so funny about it?”

Oh. You absolutely could not tell him it was because it reminded you of him. “It’s just so cute!” You giggled. “Look how angry it is, it’s precious!”

Chris grinned at your excitement. “Yeah? Bet I can win it for you.”

“Oh please,” you were about to argue about how these games were all rigged, but before you could, the guy running the game started talking.

“Step right up guys, and win your gals a prize!” Okay, well that was heteronormative to say the least.  “Game is simple, shoot the cupid, win your doll a doll. The more you shoot, the better the prize.” 

You could already see the over confident gleam in Chris’s eyes. “How much to play?’ He asked.

“Just two tickets my friend.”

Chris grinned at you quickly before turning back to the carnie and handing him two tickets. The man handed Chris the airsoft gun as he went to start the game. He looked at it and frowned a bit, staring down the sight. “What is it?” you asked.

Chris shook his head, “Nothing I can’t handle.” Before you could question him further, the Entry of the Gladiators started playing and the two rows of cupids started moving on the track, bouncing up and down as they went. Chris took aim, taking the time to get the vibe of how fast the targets moved and bobbed. Then he fired.

And missed by a mile and a half. You were honestly gobsmacked to see how hard he whiffed that shot. You knew Chris to be a master marksman, so what the hell happened here?

Chris seemed undeterred though, almost as if he expected it. What unfolded next could have been described as embarrassing. You, on the other hand would prefer to describe it as harrowing, brave even. You would have preferred to do so. Even you had to admit this was a bit painful to watch.

In the end, he shot two. “Sorry big guy,” the man running the game said, handing Chris a small stuffed monkey as a consolation prize. 

Chris shook his head and held up his hand, “Keep it,” he said. “That was just a practice round.” And he handed the man two more tickets.

The carnie seemed genuinely a little shocked. “Whatever man, it’s your money dude.” He muttered. 

Entry of the Gladiators started again, and both you and the carnie braced for another embarrassing display. This time it was like a completely different man had taken the gun. Every shot was a dead ringer, knocking out the plywood cherubs with the speed and precision far more fitting of a man with Chris’s reputation. The game normally gives you three minutes to shoot as many targets as you could. 

Chris knocked them all out in half that time. His smile was cocky enough that it would have been punchable if not so well earned. “Well, I think that went better the second time around, what do you think?” he asked. 

The game runner just blinked. “Uh, I mean yeah! Very impressive sir!” he said, slipping back into character, “You’ve won anything on the wall, pick your prize!”

“The green wolf,” he pointed. The man handed him the plushie, and Chris in turn handed it to you. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. “What was that?!” 

Chris tilted his head, “Hmm? Oh, you mean the first round? The sight on the gun was misaligned, it’s how they rig it. I needed to get used to the actual aim.” He shrugged, acting nonchalant despite how happy he was to have his ego stoked.

“So you needed a whole round to get used to it?” You asked.

He laughed. Well, It wasn’t really a laugh. More like one quick, exaggerated HA! Before he explained. “No.” He shook his head, “No, I threw the first round cause I thought it was funny.” He grinned.

You laughed and playfully pushed his shoulder. “You’re a jerk,” You teased.

“How am I a jerk!?” He laughed. 

“I don’t know, I just know you are one!”

“Oh, well, yeah okay that’s fair enough.” The two of you giggled together as you walked. 

You smiled as you hugged your prize close. “Well thank you. I appreciate the effort.”

He looked at you with soft eyes. “You’re worth the effort.” 

You felt that familiar warmth radiate in your chest again, and hid your face in the wolf to hide any signs that his words affected you. Chris finished off the hot chocolate, throwing the empty cup away in a nearby bin. It was getting late. “You know what would be the perfect way to end the night?”

“Hmm?” you asked, looking up.

“We should ride the ferris wheel.” He grinned. You couldn’t agree more. 

💘💘💘

Before you knew it, you were cozying up to Chris on the bench of the ferris wheel seat, toddler sized plush wedged firmly between you and the short wall of the basket, pressing you just that much closer to Chris.

Not that you were complaining. As the ride started, you found yourself drawn to his side. He radiated warmth, and comfort, and you were tired of fighting the urge to press yourself into him. He gladly accepted your presence, wrapping an arm around you to keep you close. A silent act of affection he’d been doing all night, made to feel just that little bit more intimate due to the tight space. 

You looked out into the park as the wheel went up. The view was breathtaking, the colors sparkling against the night sky. The higher you got, the more of the town came into view, a warm glow framing the rainbow of the fair.

“The view’s gorgeous,” you whispered, looking over to Chris.

“Yeah, it is,” he muttered. Had he been looking at you this entire time? You weren't sure. What you were sure of, was that Chris looked… different in this light. The technicolor glow danced across his face and in his grey eyes, making him look softer all the way up here. Was his jaw always that sharp, or was the scruff just doing a lot of good work for him? Was his smile always that welcoming, his arms always this safe, his eyes always so bright with affection? It was like you were seeing him– really seeing him for the first time since he and Claire walked into that group home all those years ago. 

He wasn’t a scared little kid anymore, or an overly rebellious teenager. At some point, he had grown into an entire adult when you weren’t even looking. Or maybe you just hadn't thought to look. Your heart rattled your ribs, like a crazed animal trying to get out of its cage. And for the first time tonight, you let it. 

How had you missed it? You’d spent so long chasing the inferno of love, you’d never even stopped to consider that you already felt it. Right here, sitting next to your best friend. The one person in the world that could ever truly understand. He’d always treated you like you were important, like you were precious. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d taken it for granted before.

He had a gentle look in his eye you didn’t quite recognize. Something intense, and full of adoration. He bit his lip, and you thought that should be illegal. It was a dangerous look on him. You shouldn’t feel this way. You had a boyfriend. You had a partner who was paranoid enough about Chris as is. Of course, nothing was keeping you from taking the trash to the curb. You couldn’t believe this was the first time that thought had occurred to you.

Chris held you just a fraction tighter, and said your name like it was a soft prayer. You felt your heart do backflips you hadn’t previously thought it capable of. So this was what people meant when they said they had butterflies in their stomach. “Chris,” you whispered back.

The hand that wasn’t wrapped around you gently came to cradle your face. He let out a small breath, choking back all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t. “I…I love you, you know.” It wasn’t an uncommon phrase in your friendships. You’d said it countless times: to him, to Claire, to Jill. Chris had said it to you what felt like a thousand times before, and you’d always known exactly what he meant.

It was different this time. But as long as you didn’t acknowledge it, you could hide behind the familiarity. “I love you too.” you confessed. Your brain clocked out for the night, and your heart took over the shift. You felt yourself lean in to him, anticipation setting your spine on fire as you realized he was leaning in too. His lips looked so soft.

The sudden jolt of the wheel coming to a stop knocked you both out of it. You both jumped, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could in the small basket. You blinked at each other, wide eyed and slightly panicked as what had almost happened settled between you, and the implications of it. You two were in uncharted territory here.

“Rides over,” the ride jock said as he tapped the back of yours and Chris’s seat. “Feel free to carry on whatever you have going on at home.”

You were both still too caught up in yourselves to really argue with the man, or correct him for that matter. You simply gathered your belongings and made your way to the car. This time the two of you walked with a healthy distance between you, the space filled instead with the impenetrable wall of the status quo. God, what had you been thinking?! There was no coming back from a kiss, that was a boundary that you couldn’t uncross. Everything would have changed if you had actually kissed.

Everything felt like it had already changed. It was quiet until you had gotten to the car.

He was the first to speak. “I’m sorry,” he said, not quite able to look you in the eye. That…was not what you expected to hear.

“What? Chris, what do you have to be sorry for?”

“I– I made it weird, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just- we were so close, and I’ve always thought you were so pretty, and–”

“Chris.”

“I wasn’t thinking straight. You have a boyfriend, and I told you this wasn’t a date–”

“Chris.”

“And we’ve been friends for so long, why would you ever see me like that–”

“Chris.” You said with much more emphasis this time, putting a hand on his arm. You didn’t like where that was going. He finally looked at you. He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

Then opened it again. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop that,” you said, sternly enough to get the point across. “You have nothing to be sorry about. We were both just, caught up in the moment.”

Chris nodded. “Right.”

You continued. “This doesn’t have to change anything. We can just ignore it.”

He paused for a second. Then nodded again. “Right.” he agreed. 

The drive back was quiet. Thick with everything left unsaid, filled with whatever the classic rock station wanted to fill it with. The Promise by When In Rome felt… a little bit targeted, you wouldn’t lie. But you both let it play out nonetheless. You even took comfort in Chris quietly humming along with it. It took some of the edge off the silence. 

As always when you made it to your house, he insisted on walking you to your door. ‘To make sure you get inside safe,’ he’d always say. As the two of you got to the top step of your porch, you faced each other with smiles.

A little closer to each other than was necessary. 

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you said, giving a little lift to your new wolf friend, “Thank you, again.”

“Of course,” He nodded, “I had a lot of fun tonight too.”  

His eyes locked on yours. “We should do it again sometime,” you said.

“Carnivals here all week,” he pointed out. Was he getting closer? Or were you?

“I should really go inside.”

“I should probably get going too.” Neither of you made even an attempt to do either of those things.  His hand reached up and held your face, this thumb caressing your cheek.

He whispered your name again, the same way he had on the ferris wheel. “I… Can I kiss you?”

You hadn’t expected him to be so forward. Not after the apology tour in his car. And you definitely hadn’t expect to be so fucking giddy about it either. “Please.”

Chris didn’t need to be told twice. In the beat of a butterfly's wings his lips were on yours, and they were just as soft as you imagined. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer than you thought possible, and yet still you got the vibe it wasn’t close enough for him. With one arm still holding the wolf, the other came up to wrap around his neck.

You felt his teeth drag across your lower lip, asking to deepen the kiss. You gladly invited him in, happily tasting the sugar and chocolate still on his tongue. He pulled you impossibly close, the kiss intensifying with every second it was allowed to go on. You felt him start to pick you up, and for the first time you realized just how strong Chris was now. 

You were the one to pull back, realizing that this was getting a little too intense for your front porch. Chris either wasn’t thinking about that or didn’t care, he tried to close the gap immediately, only to be stopped by your gentle hand on his chest.

“You wanna come inside for some coffee?” You asked.

He blinked, as if only now realizing the two of you were still outside. “I’d love to.” 

You fumbled with the lock on your door, suddenly cursing yourself for your desire not to be robbed. The two of you stumbled inside once you got the door open. You threw the stuffed animal on the couch, Chris kicked the door closed and you both ripped your coats off. And before the two of you had the forethought to reconsider, your hands were on each other again, lips pressed together in a heated kiss. He picked you up, supporting your lower half with only one arm while the other kept your chest pressed firmly against his.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and for a second you thought he was about to take you on the couch. Not that you would have minded, but you were just as if not more happy when he started to make his way to your bedroom. He managed to make his way past your door, kicking it closed before turning around and pressing you to it.

The kiss started to migrate, from your lips down to your neck. A shiver ran through you as he found that sweet, soft spot on your neck. The one that always made you melt into nothing. “Fuck, Chris–” you moaned, fingers coming up to tug at his short hair. 

“I love it when you say my name,” he muttered, coming up to recapture your lips. He held you up with his right arm, while his left hand drifted up and under your shirt. His hand was surprisingly warm, and welcomed against your chill skin. You almost didn’t notice when he found your bra clasp, effortlessly undoing, with one hand no less.

You felt your cheeks catch fire. “Oh!” You gasped, “You’ve definitely done that before.”

He gave you an almost bashful smile. “Once or twice,” he admitted. You didn’t know why that was so shocking to you. Maybe it was because Chris had never really had a long term partner in all the years you’d known him, but still. You had seen him take plenty of gorgeous girls and immaculate men home before. 

No time to think about partners of lovers past. He moved to lay you down on the bed, pressing you into the soft mattress as he pressed his mouth to you. You could feel the tent in his jeans against your leg, filling you with anticipation. He pulled back long enough to take his shirt off and your mouth went dry. You knew Chris was fit, his job kept him that way, But knowing that fact and actively seeing it were two different things. He was beautiful; toned, well kept muscles flexing and somehow still defined under a soft layer of fat. Chris looked like a classic Greek statue, an Adonis that would have made Aphrodite herself blush. 

And he was looking at you as if you were Venus, the very definition of beauty and grace. And you didn’t even have to take your shirt off! Still, he had put on a show so you might as well return the favor. You sat up and slipped your shirt off, your unclasped bra threatening to come off had you not caught it. 

Chris’s breath caught in his throat as he took you in. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he huffed. What a poet.

“Yeah?” you asked, slowly letting your bra fall off your shoulders, tossing it to the side. Looking at Chris, you suddenly understood the phrase ‘fucking me with your eyes.’

He nodded. “Yeah.” It was the last thing he said before his mouth found your neck again, targeting the sweet spot that made you moan the loudest. He wanted to dig his teeth in there, leave a dark purple bruise for you to model for him in the morning. He wanted to– no he needed to mark you as his, undeniably his. He had waited for you for so long, it was only fair really.

You brought him back to reality by tugging softly at his hair, whimpering his name. He pulled back, admiring his work with a near wicked smirk. Good luck covering that up. “So fucking pretty,” he muttered, placing one last soft kiss to the mark, before kissing down your body. Down your neck, over your collar bone, through the peaks and valleys of your chest. Down your stomach, your hips, and finally along the waistband of your pants.

You lifted your hips up, eagerly inviting him to take them off. He was quick, undoing the button on your jeans before pulling them and your underwear down in one fluid motion. He pulled back, taking you all in. You watched the way his chest heaved with every breath, desire radiating off him in thick waves. It was warm in your room, and you watched as sweat started to bead on his chest and get caught in the hair there. Your eyes followed the thick happy trail down the waistband of his boxers, peeking out ever so slightly from above his jeans.

You wanted to pull them down with your teeth. Chris’s eyes met yours before you could though. “You look so much better than I ever could have imagined,” he groaned. You didn’t quite have time to unpack all of the implications of that before he was in between your legs. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched him kiss the inside of your knee, looking at you with a dangerous fire in his eye that you had never seen from him before.

He kissed down your leg, nipping and leaving a trail of small marks in his wake as he moved to where you really needed him. He placed your knee over his shoulder as he scraped his teeth along the inside of your thigh. Finally, you could feel him hovering over your slit– felt his breath against your aching, wet, cunt. You braced for impact. 

Just for him to skip right over it and go to kissing your other thigh. “Chris!” You snapped, “What the hell!?” You asked, sitting up on your elbows.

He just smirked at you from behind your thigh. “What?” he asked, tilting his head. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean what’s wrong?! Why didn’t you–” you waved your hand for emphasis. “You know.”

He definitely knew. “No, I don’t know.” he sighed. Liar. “Tell me what you want.”

You felt your face catch fire as you realized what he wanted you to do. “I–” you started, trying not to let your embarrassment over take you. “I want you.”

He hummed, considering your statement. “I’m right here doll,” he informed you, “You have me.”

You groaned in frustration. You had no fucking clue why you were struggling with this. You had never been the “blushing bride” trope before, and far from a prude. But, something about him specifically brought out a side of you that you weren’t entirely familiar with. 

You were excited to get to know that side of you though. “ Chris, I need you,” you begged. 

You watched his pupils flair with lust. That almost got him, but he stood firm. “Need me to what?”

Ah fuck being coy, this was getting frustrating. “Chris, please. I want your mouth so bad it fucking hurts. I need you, please, I wanna cum on your mouth so bad.”

It was like you had casted a spell on him. In an instant you felt his tongue finally licking a stripe up your slit, gathering all of the slick there. A sick sense of pride filled you when he moaned at your taste. You tasted like ambrosia to him, and he couldn’t get over just how wet and needy you were from kissing alone. It drove him mad.

You gasped as you felt him take your clit into his mouth, sucking on it sharply and rolling his tongue over the nub. Pleasure spiked through you, coursing its way through your core and to your head. One hand clenched the sheets while the other found the back of his head, pulling him closer to you. Your head fell back as you got lost in the bliss, every swipe of his tongue sending another wave of warmth through you.

Heat starts to pool and swirl in your lower stomach, and you don’t even care that the cheesy bastard is spelling out his name with his tongue against you. You almost think about how possessive that is, his need to paint his name across every inch of you. 

Then you feel two of his thick fingers start to circle your cunt, and suddenly you're not thinking much of anything. Even the thought of higher thinking and functioning goes out the door as he presses his digits into you. The sound he pulls out of you is near embarrassing, but the stretch feels so electric that you can’t even think to care.

You feel his fingers curl up, searching for the golden soft spot inside of you. He’s meticulous, and it doesn’t take him long to find it, the gasp you give him coupled with your thighs clenching around his head telling him everything he needed to know. Target acquired. He angles his hand to better massage the spot.

A tight coil was wrapping in on itself in your lower stomach, so tight now it was threatening to snap. Electric waves of euphoria pulsed through you, stars started to form before your eyes. You felt your hips buck to meet his fingers, lost in the way his mouth worshiped your clit. Chris hit a perfect stride, one that made your legs shake. 

“Fuck Chris, right there,” you gasped as if he hadn’t figured it out already. “Just like that, don’t stop.” And Chris, angel that he was, actually listened when you told him not to change anything, keeping the same pace and pattern– hitting a home run with just a few swipes of his tongue. 

The coil inside you finally snapped, breaking open the dam and overflowing your senses with dopamine, oxytocin, and euphoria. Hot waves of bliss crashed into you, setting every single nerve ending you had on fire. You didn’t even notice Chris humping the mattress in a truly humbling display, acting like a teenager in his own desperate need for friction. 

He didn’t stop either, gladly working you through your climax. He didn’t think he could have stopped even if he wanted to. He was drunk on your taste, high on your pleasure, and the fact that it was him making you feel this good. He groaned into you as he felt the way your cunt fluttered around his fingers, already imagining what it would feel like on his cock. He didn’t stop till you physically pushed him away, feeling overwhelmed.

Chris looked at you the way a hungry wolf looked at a rabbit; ravenous, and desperate to consume. To make every part of you a part of him. “You’re perfect,” he moaned as he closed the gap between the two of you. “And all fucking mine,” he added as he captured your lips in a demanding kiss, your taste still lingering on his tongue. There was a jealous edge to his voice, and you wondered if it had been there this whole time. You weren’t sure, but you were sure you liked the sound of it. 

He pulled back, rutting his still clothed and painfully hard cock against you, needing some form of relief. “Say it,” He begged, “Say you’re mine.”

You didn’t even have to think twice. “I’m yours Chris. All yours. I think I always have been.” The sound that came from him was sinful, and he finally gave into himself; sitting up and undoing his belt. You sat up with him to finish the job, palming him through the fabric and taking a secret joy in the way he bucked into even your tiniest touch. You slowly undid the button holding his pants together.

You must have been too slow for him. He took over, pushing his jeans and boxers down and finally taking himself out. He moaned in relief, giving himself a few strokes to ease his discomfort. He didn’t notice your wide eyed, almost nervous stare. You were no virgin, you had handled your fair share of dicks, and handled them incredibly well in your humble opinion. 

Chris was intimidating though. He wasn’t too much longer than most, but he was far thicker than the rest. It looked heavy, and curved slightly upward. The dark tip was already leaking and desperate for attention. For your attention. 

He noticed you staring, saw the look on your face. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do,” he promised. He knew he could be… a lot, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way. 

You swallowed the invisible lump in your throat. “I want to, it’s just… kind of intimidating.” 

Chris nodded, understanding the apprehension. “We’ll go slow,” He promised, taking your hand and inviting you to get more well acquainted with his cock. You gladly took him up on the offer, taking him in your palm. You felt a sense of power at the way he shuddered under your touch, just as needy for you as you were for him. 

You focused on the head, swiping your thumb over his leaking tip and using it to coat his dick. He moaned softly for you, making no move to hide how good even just your softest touch felt. You stroked his shaft, tracing out the prominent veins as he twitched in your hand. He wrapped an arm around your lower back, taking your free hand in his and bringing your wrist up for a kiss. All while bucking into your touch.

Such a soft act mixed with such an erotic scene sent a pulse of electricity to your core. Your soon-to-be-ex had never made you feel like this before. You gripped Chris slightly tighter, earning you a soft moan from him as you stroked his sensitive cock. He looked at you with hooded, lust filled eyes; emboldening you to pick up the pace.

His breath hitched in his chest, his dick twitched, he was clearly happy with the change. You watched his eyes flutter shut as he bucked his hips into your touch, building up a steady rhythm and getting lost in the sensation. You smirked at him, feeling proud of the way he melted into your hand. “Feel good?” You asked.

He huffed an almost laugh, “So good,” he confirmed, bucking into your grip, “You’re doing so good for me.” The praise went straight to your core and you bit your lip. Suddenly, all you wanted was to be good for him. You became more persistent, switching from long, languid strokes over his entire length to quick sharp motions that focused on the tip. You felt Chris shudder as he reached down, tips of his fingers teasing your clit. You gasped at the sudden sensation, not fully expecting him to return the favor. 

“Don’t look so shocked,” he chuckled. “We reward good behavior around here.” he said, massaging expert circles into you. You faltered, still sensitive from your previous climax. Your thighs twitched and you fell the short distance into Chris’s chest. Still, you may have fumbled a bit, but you didn’t forget the task at hand here.

Chris smirked, “Look at my pretty little doll, twitchy and needy and still trying to return the favor. Aren’t you just an angel?” The tone came out more condescending than he meant it too, but it wasn’t like you noticed. You just honestly really liked the sound of him talking. 

He could tell just how much you liked it. “So fucking wet,” he continued, “And all for me. You’re going to feel so good wrapped around me, I can tell.” His voice was getting husky, thick with desire and you realized he was getting there with just your hand. You were getting close too, hips rocking against him, puffy clit catching on his palm. The stimulation mixed with his voice was intoxicating.

And as much as Chris would have loved to watch you cum all over his hand, he would have much rather watched you come apart on his dick instead. He pulled you close and nipped at your ear. “I need you,” he groaned.

“Need me to what?”

He almost laughed, “I need you to let me fuck that pretty little cunt until you can’t think about anything other than how good I feel inside of you.” You felt like you were on fire.

Well, since he asked so nicely. “Please,” you nodded. 

Chris pulled your face to his, hand on the back of your head as he kissed you roughly before pressing your back into the mattress. He sat up above you, and swallowed roughly. You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down and he took you in, admiring his work decorating your body with his teeth. There would be no denying he was here in the morning. 

He grabbed your hips and placed himself in between your legs, spreading them to make room. He ran the thick tip of his cock along your slit, collecting the natural slick there. “Think you’re ready for me doll?” he asked. You nodded, the anticipation eating you alive as you braced yourself for him. 

He shook his head. “No, that’s not going to work here baby. I wanna hear your pretty voice.” 

How dare he. “Yes, Chris,” you nodded. “I'm ready.” 

Chris grinned. “See? I knew you could speak.” You ignored the condescension in his tone, far more preoccupied with the feeling of him pressing inside you, stretching you out in all of the most beautiful ways. In all your years of friendship, you never imagined Chris would feel like this. You moaned out his name in an almost pathetic display of need, hands gripping the sheets so hard you would have been worried about ripping them if you weren’t so preoccupied.

Chris hissed through his teeth as he fought the need to shove himself entirely inside your warm, welcoming cunt. A part of him wanted to split you in half and fuck you for all that you were worth, to mold your pretty little pussy to his cock and ruin you for any other man. But another, much louder part of him wanted to make sure you were comfortable. At least for the first go around. So he went almost painfully slow, only taking as much as you would give.  

You moaned as you tried to adjust to his size, tense both in apprehension and from the burn. He rubbed soothing circles into your hips, leaning down to press soft kisses into your jawline. “Come on baby,” he moaned as he kissed the shell of your ear, “relax for me.” His free hand reached down as he spoke, massaging slow, meticulous circles into your clit. Slowly, the pain started to subside, leaving you with nothing but the desperate need for him to fucking move.

“Chris,” you moaned, hand coming up to touch his back, hoping he’d get the message because you weren’t confident in your ability to say much other than his name.

Luckily, he knew exactly what you wanted, and slowly set a pace that left you reeling. “There ya go doll, that’s it,” he encouraged, angling his hips so he could hit that soft spot inside you, “Fuck, you feel so good, you’re doing so good for me.” He praised as he rocked his hips into yours, each thrust sending a new fresh wave of bliss throughout you. Your head felt like it was filled with stardust, and all you could focus on was his pretty voice and how perfectly he filled you.

He took one of your legs and placed it higher on his hip, knowing he got the angle right when he felt your nails dig into his taunt back, leaving pretty little red moons, and gasped out what may just have been the hottest sound he’d ever heard in his life. “Yeah?” he grinned. “Like that doll?”

He really needed to stop asking questions, you were going to start biting him about it. You nodded, rushing out a quick “yes,” and hoping that would be enough for him. 

He chuckled almost darkly, leaning in to kiss you again. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me baby doll,” he groaned, picking up the pace and sending you into the stratosphere. “You’re taking me so good love, you’re so fucking perfect for me.”

Had you been more cognizant, you might have had the thought to unpack the latest pet name. Might. It didn’t quite matter though, because right now you were lost in a sea of euphoria, threatening to drown in a tsunami of dopamine. Your entire body felt like a livewire, electric and ready to snap, flying closer and closer to the edge with every perfectly timed rut of his hips. 

Your other hand flew up to his hair, pulling probably harder than you actually meant to and still managing to pull a filthy moan from him. “Chris,” you whined. “Chris I’m close.” 

He nodded, making sure not to change his pace or pressure, “Cum for me baby, please,” he begged. “Need it, need you.” 

It was like your body was just instinctively waiting for permission, because the moment the words tumbled out of his mouth you felt yourself fly off the ledge, falling into a pit of oxytocin and dopamine, pleasure exploding through your every nerve ending to wreak you, and leave you shaking like the last leaves in fall. You were pretty sure you said, something? Or maybe he did? Honestly you were in no place to decipher words.

Your peak brought him to his own, the feeling of your perfect heat fluttering round him, seemingly pulling him impossibly deeper pulled him over the edge with you with one last thrust. He came hard inside of you, telling himself he couldn’t have pulled out if he tried and knowing even then he was lying to himself. He fucked you through both of your highs, not letting up until he physically had to stop. He managed to avoid collapsing on top of you, rolling you both over so he’d land beside you instead. 

You both laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your shared sin while he peppered light kisses across your forehead. “You okay?” he asked gently.

“Never better,” you laughed, but it came out more like breathy little huffs. 

He smiled adoringly at you as he brushed your hair out of your eyes. “Glad to hear it,” he muttered. You grimaced as he finally pulled out, almost feeling like you’d lost something. “Come on,” he muttered, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

Chris gave you a quick kiss before leaving the room, coming back with a warm rag and a water bottle. He helped you get cleaned up before gathering you in his arms again, propping you up on his chest while you tried to rehydrate. You took another drink before looking up at him. “Yes, you can light a smoke.”

Chris looked like he’d been caught in a crime. “What? I didn’t say anything about–”

“You didn’t have to,” you teased. “I can feel you getting twitchy, just smoke the cigarette.”

He looked relieved. “You sure you don’t mind?” Even as he asked he was reaching for his jeans. “I know you’re not a huge fan of the smell.” 

You waved a hand at him. “Just don’t make a habit of it,” you said, pointing to an abandoned water bottle on your bedside. “There’s your ashtray.”

He pulled his cigarettes and lighter out of his back pocket, throwing his pants back on the floor. He lit the smoke, throwing the lighter on your night stand before relaxing back on the bed, pulling you back to his side. You melted into him, closing your eyes and taking everything in. 

The silence was comfortable this time, nothing like it was on the way back from the fair. Everything felt familiar and right. From the cigarette smoke to the soft beating of his heart, the entire scene felt like a snapshot from your future.

 You thought that if you had ever crossed this line with Chris, it would be awkward– friendship ruining even. You were almost shocked to realize that, no actually, it didn’t feel like anything had changed. 

It felt like this is where you were supposed to be the entire time. “So,” he finally asked, “What’s the plan?”

“What’s the plan?” You laughed, “The plan is leaving fuckface. And, well,” you looked up at him, “Hopefully we can explore whatever this is?”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - overall skintone is #F6E5DE

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his eyes are #adcfe6

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his cock starts with #f6e5de, fades to #F1D8CD. tip is #ffc8b5.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his hair (pubes included) is #F0E2B6

₊˚⊹♡size and habits ₊˚⊹♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - he's 8" in length, definitely can't close your fingers around it. thick vein on the underside.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - 6'2 in height, more lean than muscular. towers over most.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - definitely well groomed. not very hairy in general, thus he doesn't have very much hair to groom. cuts his hair (in the bathroom by himself mind you) every month.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - re1 eats as needed, the healthy 3 times a day, and plenty of water to stay on top of his game. re5 doesn't have the need to eat or drink. he's no longer 100% human and his appetite diminished within months of taking doses of Uroboros.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - reads a lot when he's not working. non-fiction, science-based literature to expand his knowledge. his wits came naturally, sure, but that doesn't mean he can't maintain them. at home, when he's truly by himself, he doesn't wear his sunglasses. he has an actual prescription pair that's a similar style to his sunglasses, just without the tint.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - his guilty pleasures are romance novels. the vampire kind, specifically. he finds them entertaining though he often makes fun of the cheesier ones. when he stumbles across the occasional good one, he rereads it over and over again until he's worn out the spine.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ - he drinks wine. not one for beer, truthfully, but will drink some here and there. whiskey is his second choice.

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙kinks⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

୨୧ - (re1) at the beginning of your relationship, he'll only do something if you ask him to. he's never thought much about sexual exploration given his long, *long* history of solitude. he refuses to do anything that might injure you- knifeplay, gunplay, impact play (light or hard), etc. sure, he'll tie you up if you ask, he doesn't mind. he plays into your desires.

୨୧ - (re1) the more he researches, the more he finds he likes. he buys some ribbon to bind you with- the flimsy kind you can get out of quickly should you need to. he loves pink on you. he only binds your wrists together, nothing too intense. maybe he blindfolds you, uses a toy on you, or overstimulates you. consent checks regularly, as well. you use safewords should you need them.

୨୧ - (re5) fully established kinks. he's less human and less rational, but he knows to respect your boundaries. he leaves bite marks all over you and demands that you don't cover them up with makeup or clothing. he likes owning you. you're given a collar, of which you can put on or take off as you please, but during which you are fully submissive to him and whatever he wants you to do.

୨୧ - (re5) consensual nonconsensual (cnc) is his favorite. of course, you have to be wearing your collar for him to take advantage of you. safewords are a must for the both of you. he's never submissive, definitely a hard dom. he doesn't feel the need for knives or guns, but he does love impact play. loves shutting up your bratty mouth by slapping you and manhandling you. he's switched to handcuffs instead of ribbon if he deems them necessary.

୨୧ - (re5) since Uroboros has diminished his humanity by a good chunk, he's more animalistic towards you. aside from marking you up, he's obsessed with breeding. adores cumming inside you until you're leaking it. he knows you love it just as much as he does. at some point, it becomes routine. "such a slut. can't go a day without being fucked full of cum." he degrades you lightly, nothing that would genuinely hurt. simple things i.e slut, whore, toy, doll, dumb, stupid, etc.

༘⋆✿ favorite positions ༘⋆✿

๋࣭ ⭑ - (re1) he likes seeing your face. he loves watching your face twist and contort with the pleasure he gives you. adores being able to see all of you, all of what he does to you. eye contact drives him crazy. if you're blindfolded, he won't finish until you're done. he'll ask if he can take your blindfold off between kisses to your face.

๋࣭ ⭑ - missionary is a must. your first time with each other is missionary- the romantic first time you'd see in movies where he takes his time to make you feel valued. the lotus position is another one he likes if you're going to be on top. he's okay with you riding him too, if you really want, but he'd prefer to be the one in control.

๋࣭ ⭑ - if you both aren't feeling sex, he loves getting you off by having you sit on his face or using his fingers on you. he doesn't need anything in exchange either. he's found that he doesn't like receiving head, as he finds it to be degrading towards you, and that's the last thing he wants. but if you insist, he allows it. he mutters praises as you take him down to the base, swallowing around him in an attempt to not gag.

๋࣭ ⭑ - mutual masturbation is something he's weak for. he loves watching your hand try to fit around him as you stroke his cock so eagerly, his fingers buried in your weeping entrance.

๋࣭ ⭑ - (re5) he prefers less intimacy, not like how he used to. he thinks it's too human, something he's made quite clear that he's not anymore. he'll fuck you just about anywhere. he prefers doggy with his arm around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold. bonus points if you beg him to breed you in this position.

๋࣭ ⭑ - what he gets, he'll give. you give him head, something he's come to enjoy, he'll give you head with the same enthusiasm.

๋࣭ ⭑ - cockwarming is a must. prefers it while he's either reading or working at his desk. sometimes, he'll make you read to him and thrust up into you occasionally so you stumble over your words. when he gets impatient, he pins you down and fucks into you until he comes at least twice inside of you.

๋࣭ ⭑ - wearing your collar? he'll fuck you while you're cuddling. spooning is preferred, but whether you're sitting on his lap, lying on top of him, or him on top of you, he's putting his cock inside you. very rarely does he do slow and soft, but if you're both tired, he'll be careful with you. he loves sitting you in his lap, his forceful grip on your hips, and moving you like a ragdoll. superhuman strength pays off in situations like this. his fingertips leave bruises that make his cock twitch whenever he sees them.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ pet names ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𓆩♡𓆪 - (re1) calls you darling, dearest, dear, little dove, dove. adores praising you and could for days on end. (i.e. "that's it, dear, you're doing so well for me. are you alright? should i stop?)