gina

and yeah, he’d been lying if he said he didn’t check you out every time you wore that ridiculous cheerleading outfit they pretended was a uniform. the top stretched tightly across your chest, the pleated skirt barely covering your ass — it was laughable, and steve wondered if you knew how much of a cocktease you were being.

so, that night after the team’s big win, when everyone’s celebrating at a closed party at the hockey house, he approaches you. he’s clean and freshly showered and he’s tired, but he needs this — he hasn’t fucked in months and the pressure of keeping up with practices and games and studies is really getting to him, and he’s convinced you’re the only one who can help him.

you raise an eyebrow when steve walks over to you, all wide brown eyes and flushed cheeks from drinking too much beer, and tap your finger against your solo cup.

“to what do I owe the pleasure, harrington?” you ask, tilting your head curiously.

“I was wondering,” he says, placing his hand against the wall, to the side of where you’re standing, “if you’d wanna come upstairs with me. talk a little? somewhere a bit more private?”

you laugh at that, but it’s not the flirtatious kind girls normally respond with, and steve’s confused where he went wrong.

“that’s your big line? you just want me to go up to your room with you?”

steve shrugs. “yeah, I guess.”

“right,” you murmur, taking a drink from your cup, “yeah, I’m not fucking you, harrington. try your luck somewhere else.”

you give him a flat smile, pat him on the shoulder, and slither out from his grasp to go get another drink.

Now, normally, this kind of thing is against the rules. But tonight is a slow one, with most of the usual patrons choosing a bigger sports bar to go to after the win, and you don’t see a reason to deny this team much of anything right now. 

So, you turn and a handful of shot glasses from the shelf, snagging a fresh bottle of tequila, too. 

“Hey, could I get a glass of water?” A voice calls behind you. 

“Sure thing, do you want—” you start, but freeze when you look up to see who just sat down at the bar.

He smiles, white teeth flashing in the lights. His bleached hair is parted down the middle, falling over his forehead in frizzy, crimped waves. 

“…Ice?” you finish lamely. 

His brown eyes crinkle at the corners, and your stomach does a little flip. 

“Ice? Nah. Well, just—whatever you got’s good. Thanks.”

You nod, swiping a glass and filling it quickly from the tap. 

“Hey, great assist tonight by the way.” The words tumble from your lips as you set the glass down in front of him. 

His eyes flicker with interest as they meet yours again. “You saw the game?”

His jacket gapes a little off his waist, the width of his shoulders filling it out as he reaches for the glass.

“I always turn the TV to local sports.” You motion to the TV in the corner of the bar. As if he couldn’t see it for himself. 

“Shit, seriously? That’s cool.” His gaze lingers on you for a second before he clears his throat, then shifts on the barstool to hold out his hand. “Hey, I’m Teacake, by the way. Well, Travis, technically, but everybody calls me that. Or Tea.” 

You smile, setting down the glass you were holding and reach out to clasp his hand in yours. But when you look down at your hands, you forget entirely how to introduce yourself. 

His hands are so big that his palm practically engulfs yours, and his long, blunt fingers brush your wrist, warm against your skin. 

“How we doin’ on those shots?” Someone calls. 

You jump, the music swelling back into your ears, and you drop Teacake’s hand. Looking up, you find Gus now standing at the bar. He’s tall and lean, with black hair that’s shaved down short. You recognize him as the team’s right winger. 

“Y-yeah! Yeah, got ‘em right here,” you say, flashing Teacake an apologetic look before flipping open the tequila bottle and pouring eight neat shots, all in a row. The liquor gurgles from the spout, splashing right into the glass bottoms without spilling a drop.

“Jesus, you’re really fast at that,” Teacake muses under his breath, and you have to bite your lip to hide your smile. 

Gus turns around to face the bar, then cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Body shots!”

An answering chorus of whoops and cheers echo through the bar, and you shake your head in amusement. This is definitely a bad idea, but hey—it’s not every day you win the semifinals. 

“We’re celebrating you tonight, man!” Jamison shouts over the music, coming up behind Teacake and clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. A few of the girls fill the gaps between the stools in front of you, a cloud of sparkling tops and perfume. “What’dya say, girls?” he says, turning to them with a charming grin, sweaty brunette curls sticking to his face. “You wanna show our boy, Teacake, a good time?”

You grab a knife and slice into a fresh lime, the tart smell filling your nose, the sticky juice spilling over your fingers as you try not to look up at him. 

“Hey, hey,” Travis says, holding his hands up in surrender. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

A shadow falls over your cutting board, and you look up to see one of the girls shimmying herself up onto the bar top.  

“Where do want it, Tea?” The girl asks coyly, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Here?” She brushes her hand over her cleavage, and the boys crowd around, eyes eager, drinks hooked lazily in their hands. Her hand travels lower, circling the flat stomach peeking out under her top. “Or here?”

He swallows hard, then opens his mouth to say something, but she turns over her shoulder to you before he can. 

“Hand me that, would you?” She says. The neon lights catch in her lashes, and she smiles. 

You reach over to hand her a tequila shot, but she stops you, one manicured finger pointing beside you. 

“No, I meant the bottle.”

Wordlessly, and a little reluctantly, you hand her the tequila bottle, as well as a pinch of margarita salt, and a fresh lime wedge. When she turns back to Travis, a chant starts up from the crowd. 

"Tea-cake, Tea-cake, Tea-cake!”

The team’s bellows are so loud, they temporarily drown out the music. Everyone crowds in even more, and even Landon, their shy goalie, grabs a hold of Teacake’s jacket and shakes him a little in anticipation. 

Travis raises his big hands, motioning for them to stop. A small smile tugs on the corner of his mouth, but he shakes his head, and the cheers dies out. 

The girl on the bar starts to pout, her bottom lip slick with lip gloss. “You’re not any fun.”

“Oh, me?” Teacake asks, pointing a finger into his chest. “I’m fun. I’m huge fun! But look—” He fishes something out of his pocket, then holds it out proudly. “Fourteen months sober.”

He’s holding a sobriety coin. It’s a smooth, slightly tarnished bronze, but Teacake holds it like its treasure. It winks under the flashing lights as he weaves it between his knuckles in a practiced motion. 

Gus groans. “That’s right. Sorry man. I forgot. I didn’t mean—”

“Nah, man, you’re good.” Teacake says, with a little shake of his head. “Don’t worry about it.” Then, he holds out his hand for the drunk girl still perched in front of him. “Shit, here, let me help you down. And it’s not that I don’t want to, okay? Your tits look good. Great, I mean! They look great. Seriously.”

She looks up at him, then, and flashes him a small smile, turning back to her friends. You recognize that look. Pity.

It makes your stomach twist. 

Travis is a fairly new addition to the Bucks. Apparently, after spending a short time in the slammer for something stupid, his childhood hockey coach decided to give him a fresh start. Saw his potential. Saw his heart. 

He’s got more to prove than the others because of this, though, and you recognize that earnest desire to succeed. It matches your own.

Maybe that’s why you find yourself leaning over the bar in front of him and saying, “You know, you don’t have to drink alcohol in order to do a body shot.”

Travis looks over his shoulder at you, and his lips part in surprise. Like, he almost can’t believe you are speaking to him again. The rest of his team still stands around, but they aren’t listening anymore. 

“There are…other ways.” you continue, mouth suddenly dry.

He twists towards you, wide shoulders taking up your vision as he leans over the bar, meeting you halfway.  “Oh yeah?”  His hair flops in his face as he tilts his head. “What other way are we talkin’ about here?”’

You smirk to yourself, then plant your hands on the sticky bar top and level his gaze. 

“Oh. Oh, shit. You mean off me?” His eyes widen and he glances at the girls, then back at you. “Trust me, these girls don’t wanna—”

“I bet they would,” you interrupt with a shrug you hope looks casual. “But I wasn’t talking about them.”

He lets out a quiet, stuttering laugh. “Are….are you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’ right now? You want to do a body shot off me?”

Landon, Gus, and Jamison all turn around sharply in unison. It’s honestly kind of impressive for three guys as drunk as they are.

“Wait, what did he say?” Landon asks. 

Jamison gestures towards you with his glass. “I think the bartender’s doing a body shot off Tea.”

At that moment, the song changes. It turns into something with a deep bass, and a sexy tempo that sits low in your hips, humming up your spine. 

“Ohhh yeah. Yep, this is happening!” Gus shouts. “Clear the bar top!” 

A blur of hands grab their drinks from the ledge before you can blink. Gus sure knows how to command a room. 

Travis rubs his neck. “I don’t know, man. I’m trying to get better at not getting talked into shit, you know?”

Jamison scoffs. “What’s the harm in this, T? You’re not the one drinking!”

A cheer runs through the crowd, and in a matter of seconds, the boys have Teacake laid out on the bartop like your personal offering. He’s scoffing, batting their hands away, lips twisted in disgust as they try to rip up his shirt. 

“Ah—okay, what the hell, man? Jesus,” he hisses. “Can take off my own damn shirt…”

Getting a knee up on the counter for leverage, you climb up onto the bar top with him, and man, that really makes the crowd go crazy. 

You seek out his eyes underneath the neon lights as your knees find their place on either side of his hips. His jacket is gone, leaving his chest heaving underneath a mussed white T-shirt, and his tongue darts out over his bottom lip as his gaze meets yours. 

He blushes, but doesn’t look away, so you turn to the girl from before, who’s standing on the ground watching. 

“Can I see that?” You ask. She hands the tequila bottle up to you, clearly a little chagrined she didn’t think of this first. “Thanks.”

 Snatching a pinch of salt from the counter, and a fresh lime wedge, you lean back on your heels and look down at Teacake.

He’s so wide and broad underneath you, your knees almost ache from being spread so far, planted on either side of his ribs. His chest is warm through the cotton shirt, brushing against your inner thighs. 

The rest of him is just as good, from the sliver you can see. His stomach made up of strong muscles under a thin layer of fat you just want to sink your teeth into. 

“There’s no fucking way this is happening,” he mutters in awe.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Why not? I mean—look at you! You’re, like, insanely hot and shit.” 

You smile. “So are you.”

And he is. 

You raise your head to look at the crowd. They’re all gathered around, awaiting your next move as the song’s tempo picks up.

“Where should I put the salt, boys?” You yell over the music. 

A chorus of suggestions rise, each one more risqué than the last, but you turn back to Teacake and move down his body. 

“I think…” You tilt your head, pursing your lips. “Here.”

“Jesus,” Travis hisses, dropping his head back against the bar as you swipe the lime across the sliver of skin just above his waistband, then sprinkle salt over the gleaming strip. “Are you sure you—”

“Hold this for me, would ya?” You reach up and press the lime wedge peel against his mouth, muffling his words. 

Slowly, under your watchful gaze, his lips part and his teeth accept it. 

“Atta girl!” Jamison shouts. “Show him who’s boss!”

Gus cheers, slinging an arm around one of the girls. “Finally, someone who knows how to shut Tea up!”

Travis’ nostrils flare as the lime invades his senses, his pupils dilated and fixed on you. The swinging lights skitter across his lashes, painting his freckles in gold.  

“Good boy.” You murmur, smiling. “Now pull that shirt up higher.”

The boys whoop so loudly the vibrations travel through your kneecaps planted on the bar. They crowd around closer, slamming open palms into each other’s chests, slinging drinks around. 

You’ll have to stay late cleaning this place up. But, considering the view in front of you right now, it’s so worth it. 

Teacake scoffs against the lime at your order, but his lips quirk. The veins in his hands flex as he reaches down and grabs his shirt and drags it higher.

The glass bottle feels slick in your sweaty palm, salt chunks digging into the pads of your fingers in the other, and your heart hammers against your ribs as you stare down at him. 

Lick. Shoot. Suck. 

Easy. 

But as his shirt lifts, revealing hard pecs beneath warm, soft fat, and a chestful of dark hair, your mouth parts on an exhale. He’s so big, and so warm. Like a damn furnace underneath you right now. 

Suddenly, you’re consumed by the urge to know what it’s like to burrow into his side and use that heavy arm like your personal weighted blanket. Your head swims like you’ve already slammed the shot, and—fuck, what are you supposed to do again?

Right. Lick. 

You shuffle down until your face is practically level with his crotch as the song builds to the chorus. He’s wearing dark jeans, spread tight over his thick, muscular thighs. God, if you were alone right now…

But you’re not. And you have a job to do. 

Slowly, you lower your body. You’re utterly entranced by the way his breath heaves once, twice, his head tipping up to look at you, and then your mouth descends—just as the beat drops. 

Cheers erupt, but you hardly hear them over the blood rushing in your ears. 

The harsh bite of salt invades your tongue, but you swipe it across his skin eagerly, looking for the taste of him underneath it. 

With the hand that isn’t clenched around the bar top for stability, you tip the bottle just enough for a small pool of tequila to land on his stomach. His core clenches as it splashes over his body, pooling in his navel before running in rivulets down his sides.  

He curses again from behind the lime, but you swoop in, slurping the alcohol off his body, letting your lips drag over the dips and valley of skin and muscle. His stomach jerks beneath the hot, velvety glide of your tongue, and despite everything, a groan escapes him. 

It’s muffled under the music, you more so feel it than hear it, but it sends a thrill down your spine. 

The tequila bites your taste buds, hot and bitter, but the scent of his skin is overwhelming. Warm, but clean, probably from his shower after the game, with just a hint of sweat that makes embers stir between your hips. 

Hollowing your cheeks, you suck gently, intent on getting every drop, and his hand twitches at his side as if he wants to grab your hair for you.

You look up when his chest vibrates under your lips and find him trying to say something to his teammate from behind the lime. One of the boys has his phone out, filming over Teacake’s shoulder with a wicked grin. 

Travis waves him away, but it’s no use, and when he turns back to you, he’s laughing from behind the fruit, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

You laugh too, heartbeat fluttering against Travis’ thigh as you slide your tongue over his abs again. The tequila is gone now, but he deserves to have a video his teammates can wave around, make inside jokes about, or threaten to show everyone at the fancy hockey galas.

Finally, you pull back and crawl up his body. He looks up at you, brown eyes wide and pupils blown. That lime still pitifully stuck between his lips, flesh part facing you. Your hair brushes his cheek and his hand flies up. You think he’s going to brush it away, but instead, he reaches up under your hair, and cups the nape of your neck.

Your heart stops. His hand is so heavy, so warm, as he pulls you down. Your lashes flutter and you try to keep from grinning in excitement as you slowly, slowly lower your mouth down to his. 

His breath ghosts along your cheek as your teeth sink into the flesh of the fruit. The sour tang hits the back of your throat, but you barely feel it, because your bottom lip slides across his. 

Your stomach swoops, heat pooling in your belly. It feels like, for a moment, it’s just the two of you. No music. No onlookers. And when his other hand brushes your thigh beside his hip, you nearly forget how to breathe. 

The hoots and hollers coming from the boys rip you back into the present, and you pull back just far enough to take the lime from your own mouth, but you stay hovered over him, your eyes on his. 

He swallows hard, and his thumb brushes your thigh again. Intentional, this time. Earnest, and almost…grateful. 

“So, you still think girls don’t want to do that to you?” You tease. 

“I think—” He breaks into a helpless laugh. “Shit, man, if this is what’s waiting for me at the afterparty, I’ll win every fucking game.”

“Hey,” you smile down at him with a shrug. “It’s worth a shot.”

a/n: god, I need him bad. like, badddddddddd. expect more hockey!teacake soon. (my sports romance side is coming out, if you couldn't tell)

also, if you liked this, you might like soccer player!travis (football, for her lol) by @moonstoneandmoonlight.

teacake taglist: @xoxocelestial , @s3xytosomeone , @tellcherhesgone , @another-widow , leave a comment here if you want to join!

But this evening he came home dead on his feet, feeling heavy from the weight of the day - was so exhausted that he snuck in quietly, which was quite the feat for someone like Gator; who always likes to make his presence known.

It’s why when his arms slip silently around your shoulders to pull you back against his chest, a squeal of surprise leaves you.

“Holy shit, Gator,” your voice shakes a little, startled by his sudden appearance.

Your heart jumps, thrumming wildly - unsure if it’s from the shock or the fact that your man is pressed snugly up against you.

You’d been busy on the back porch, sweat beading along your hairline as you watered the plants that were growing there. Growing was an exaggeration. They barely moved an inch over the past few months, and some of them were starting to wither regardless of your efforts.

Gator liked to give you shit about trying to keep the things alive, but it was part of your routine. Something to keep your mind busy instead of worrying about him all day.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare yah, baby girl,” he greets you, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“It’s okay, Alligator,” you reply, lips curling up at the nickname he complains about - though he’ll never tell you to stop calling him it. You dissolve against him, hands wrapping around his forearms.

“Missed yah,” he murmurs, playfully nibbling against the exposed skin of your throat.

You smile a bit bashfully, “Oh, did you?”

“Stop bein’ all shy ‘bout it. Yah know I did,” he lets you go, giving a quick pat to your ass before twirling you around to look at him.

The heat that’s been creeping up your cheeks only intensifies, biting your lip as your eyes trace over him. He’s already shed the tactical vest and gear, along with his signature hat that’s nowhere to be seen.

It allows you to appreciate the slight bulge of his biceps, eyeing the way his cargo pants deliciously hug his thighs, and your fingers itch to card through his slicked back hair that’s starting to fall messily, tousled from the day.

He grins wolfishly, “You checkin’ me out, baby girl?”

Your hands slide up the expanse of his chest, “Maybe. Is that a problem, Deputy?”

“I sure ain’t complainin’ about that look yer givin’ me,” he muses, hands sliding down to cup your lower back.

“What look?” You shrug, acting indifferent, shamelessly letting your eyes roam his figure again.

“That one, yah tease,” he pinches your hip playfully.

You smile nonchalantly, “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Alligator.”

He scoffs in jest, mumbling something about how he knows you’re not as innocent as you claim to be before letting his own eyes wander over you. You lazily bring your hands up to stroke the collar of his shirt, before letting your thumbs duck under and rub at the knots stored up in his shoulders.

He closes his eyes briefly at the touch, “Feels good.”

“Long day?” You prompt, caressing the base of his neck.

“Yeah. God, ‘m so fuckin’ beat,” he replies, irritation crossing his features as he reflects on the pains of his job.

The dark circles that hang under his eyes prove his statement, making you want to tenderly press kisses along the delicate skin there to soothe the tension he’s carrying.

“Why don’t you go change? Rest for a bit. I’ll take care of dinner,” you tell him.

“Ain’t it my turn?” His eyebrows turn in.

You swipe at the divot it makes, “Yeah, but I’ve got it.”

His hands slide further down your back, resting against the curve of your ass and giving it a squeeze that would surely have you throwing yourself at him if he weren’t so fatigued.

“Yer too damn good to me,” he mumbles.

He drops his forehead to yours, inhaling deeply, trying his best to express his gratitude because he’s not great with words, but he hopes you’ll get the hint when he nudges his nose against your own - pressing his lips to yours greedily when your breath hitches in anticipation.

“Gator,” you whisper, kneeling down by the couch he’s resting on.

He’s passed out, deep in sleep while lying flat on his back - arm thrown over his eyes as gentle little snores escape him.

You knew he hated falling asleep there. He wouldn’t actually say it, but he always bitched the next day about the crick in his neck that it would leave behind.

Which is why you’re currently trying to wake him up to persuade him to move to the bedroom.

You try again, voice coming out stronger this time, “Gator.”

He drowsily mutters something, having subconsciously heard the call, but it wasn’t quite loud enough to rouse him from his dreams.

You resist the urge to slip your hand under his black shirt that’s hiked up, exposing the soft tuft of dark hair that travels down into his sweatpants - knowing if he wakes up to your cold fingers feeling him up he’ll dramatically gripe about you trying to give him frostbite.

“Gates,” you coo, reaching out to push back a couple strands of hair that have broken free of the gel he uses to keep it out of his eyes.

Gator stirs, arm reaching out to determine where you are, blinking blearily while he tries to adjust to his surroundings.

He’s thoroughly caught off guard by you crouching next to him, sending him into a swift moment of panic.

“What? Somethin’ wrong, baby girl?” He rasps, scrambling to try to get into a sitting position.

“No,” your lips tug up in delight, watching in amusement as he furrows his brows in confusion.

“The fuck you wakin’ me up for then,” he groans grumpily, reaching out to grasp your waist.

He firmly pulls you to rest on top of him, legs tangling with yours, planting a sleepy kiss against your neck. The brush of his lips against your skin tickles, causing you to giggle as you settle against him.

“Yeah? You like that, baby girl?” He teases, significantly more awake now, mouthing at your throat.

“Mhm,” you hum in content, moving a hand to rest against the place that hides his heart.

He nuzzles further into you, savoring the scent of your perfume as his teeth graze lightly between the hot presses of his mouth. You fall silent when you feel his hips shift under yours, sending a sharp coil of want to bubble up - blooming intensely within you.

Your knees sink further down on either side of him, instinctively giving a tentative swivel of your hips at the contact.

“Fuck, did yah wake me up jus’ to tease me?” He groans, grip on your hips tightening.

A desperate whimper slips out of you as you feel him growing hard, unable to stop yourself from rocking against his clothed length.

Gator releases a strangled moan, and the broken curses spilling from his lips makes your gut tighten, spiraling you into a cloudy haze of lust.

Your hands surge forward, clutching onto his back as you start to rut against him - sleep shorts lifting higher up your legs with each languid grind.

“Use your words, baby girl,” he says huskily, breath skimming the shell of your ear.

You try, but your brain is too fuzzy - muddled by the desire in your aching core as you work yourself incessantly over him.

The reprimanding bite he gives to your jaw in response to your silence has your lips parting, eyes glazing over as you try to form words.

“Gator,” you cry, trailing off as you start to lose composure - feeling your arousal pooling in the fabric of your panties.

“C’mon, sweet thing, know yah got a lot more to say than that,” he chides, hands digging into the meat of your thighs, hauling you closer to him as he thrusts upwards to meet each roll of your hips.

You’re seconds away from shoving a hand down under the material covering him to tug at his cock - positive that it's excessively leaking precum with the way he’s panting, practically gasping for air as you continue to rotate your hips against his.

You’re willing to bet that you could get him to come in his pants if you keep it up, but he suddenly forces you to stop when he pulls you flush against him - refusing to let you move, ending the delicious friction that had you careening you towards your high.

“Gator,” you whine in frustration.

He tuts under his breath, “Not movin’ till you answer me, mama.”

The pet name has you feverishly squirming against him - your body begging him to give you reprieve as you feel your slick seeping out of your cunt, writhing with need as you buck your hips again, trying your best to get him to cave.

He hooks his hands behind your knees, making you yelp - damn him for knowing the hold on your sensitive skin there would force you to stop moving.

“You’re being unfair,” you mewl, breathing erratically from your pent up release.

His nose skims along your jaw, “You haven’ seen unfair yet, baby girl.”

A choked noise leaves you, “Please, Gator. I want you.”

“You’ll get whatcha want when you tell me why ‘m up right now instead of sleepin’,” he implores, kissing along the slope of your jawline, stopping to suck unmercifully at the sweet spot below your ear.

You grab at his arms, pawing along the corded muscles and veins that wrap around them, finally huffing out, “Can’t when you’re all over me like this.”

“Can’t think straight when yer pretty pussy is all pressed up against my cock, is that it?” He mocks you, giving you a coy look.

The vulgar words have you whimpering in defeat, “Fuck, yes.”

Gator looks smug, sly smile tilting his lips up - waiting patiently for you to tell him why you disturbed him from his slumber.

“You fell asleep on the couch,” you confess, slumping forward.

The statement makes him sober up, expression turning serious.

“So?” He quips, raising an eyebrow.

You sigh in dissatisfaction, realizing your fun is up now that he’s picking - searching for answers you know he won’t like, but you decide to be honest.

You pull back, hands reaching up to cup his face.

“So, it’ll give you a backache,” you remind him.

“And?” He narrows his eyes at you.

“And you’ll sleep on your neck the wrong way,” you tag on.

He rolls his eyes, “I’m a man. Can handle some pain.”

You hate when he does that. Hate when he acts like he ought to be tougher than he needs to be. Hate when he diminishes himself to the expectations and standards that are bullshit because his daddy beat them into him.

He knows he’s a work in progress. And he knows you wouldn’t keep him around long if he didn’t lose the self righteous asshole act he put on when he still depended on Roy to get by.

But he’s also stubborn, more so when he’s tired, and you don’t want to start an argument.

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean you should have to,” you settle with, pressing a kiss to that unfairly perfect nose of his.

“Why do yah care?” He questions, not with contempt, but like he genuinely can’t believe why you would mind if he was hurting.

“Because you’re my husband,” you plant another kiss on his nose before continuing.

“And my best friend,” your lips trail over his cheek, feeling the flutter of his eyelashes as they close.

“And my favorite person,” you conclude, slotting your lips with his.

He’s frozen for a moment - shocked by the emotion behind your words, but you coax him to move his mouth against yours when your tongue dips past his parted lips.

He exhales a sound of pleasure, pulse picking up from the burning sensation of want - devouring the needy sighs he’s pulling from you.

You feel your head starting to spin, dizzy with longing for him, trying to silently communicate that he deserves to feel loved.

Gator unwillingly breaks from you, gasping for breath as you chase after his kiss bitten lips, now flushed in a radiant pink that matches the hue of his cheekbones.

His hand comes up to brush back the hair that’s fallen in your face, and he catches the gold glint of a necklace peeking out from under your shirt.

He thinks it’s cute when you wear dainty jewelry, but he’d rather keel over than tell you that, so instead he gently fumbles with it - maneuvering it to rest along the fabric that covers your chest.

When the realization of what’s on it hits him, he proceeds to stare in awe at the chain around your neck, nimble fingers carefully fiddling with the tiny G that rests at the point.

“Where did yah get this?” He whispers affectionately, displaying the letter curled up in his palm.

You glance down, watching as he stares at it in adoration - finger outlining the curve of his initial.

“I bought it. Wanted to wear it for you,” you divulge, bowing your head to try to get him to look at you.

You used to call it cliche when you saw a woman wearing her man’s initials, often joking it was like they were being branded, but now you’ve giddily fallen victim to the trap. And you’re sure someone will think the same about you, but you couldn’t care less anymore.

They could call it what they wanted to, because you weren’t wearing it because he owned you - choosing to wear it because he knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Why?” He asks, clearing his throat to cover the way his voice cracks.

“I told you. You’re my favorite person,” you disclose, placing a hand over his that still clings onto the letter like it’ll disappear if he lets go.

He swallows harshly, “You mean it?”

“Of course, Gator. I love you,” you promise, sealing it with another press of your lips to his.

“Never been anyone’s favorite before,” he confides quietly, embarrassment tinting the tips of his ears.

The color of his blush makes something grim gnarl up inside of you - a blazing anger rising for his father who pretended to love him just to use him, for his mother who up and left him as a child to defend himself against a grown man, for anyone that wasn’t willing to take the time to peel away the layers he built to hide himself - the ones you were still working on pulling back.

“Well, you’re mine,” you confirm, letting your forehead tilt to rest on his.

“Yer mine too,” he sniffs, wiping frantically under his nose - trying to shield you from the tears threatening to fall.

You don’t like that he feels the need to conceal himself from you, but you don’t want to push - knowing he still has unrealistic principles about men and crying ingrained in him.

For now, you're determined to be gracious towards him because you plan to tear down those walls he’s got up - hoping to show him that with you, his heart is safe, no longer needing the protective armor hardening it.

When he gathers himself, a fleeting moment of lust passes across those hazel eyes of his, and laughter tumbles from you when you feel his member twitching beneath you.

“Don’t you laugh at me. You were the one humpin’ me like yah were in heat,” he grunts.

His crass words shoot straight through you, sending a sizzling tingle up your spine - becoming overwhelmed with the need to worship him.

“I couldn’t help it. You’re my favorite,” your tone grows sultry, nipping at his collarbone.

“Gatherin’ that, baby girl,” he quips, head falling back against the cushions of the couch to give you better access.

You let your mouth explore him, placing intentional kisses to the freckles and moles that scatter his skin like tiny stars across the night sky.

“Can I show you just how much I mean it?” You smirk, slipping off his lap and dropping to your knees in front of him.

His eyes blow wide, “Fuck, is tha’ even a question?”

And so you make yourself comfortable between his spread legs, eager to please him - ready to prove that while he may not have been anyone’s first choice before, he's certainly yours.

Divider credits to @pxrce-lain

Main Masterlist If Interested!

JKC Taglist: @pepsipoet @arayajasmynee @pr33tygirlavenue @miahslt91 @sparklydelusionearthquake @cuddlyeren @beth-mirrorball @ann-aatn

i was really going to keep this as a one shot but it’s grown beyond that single draft so i’ll give it its own little masterlist. !! thank you all for reading so far 🫀

Despite the torrid weather, your apartment made up for it. It was a real diamond in a coal mine. You’d spent so long finding the perfect place in the perfect location, and this place ticked all your boxes. Bay windows, hardwood floors, gorgeous archways and even a cute little balcony. 

But as perfect as it was, it did come with some quirks. The building was very old, meaning during your downpours, you’d made more calls to your landlord than you had in the last four months you’d been living here. Your windows would shake and rattle from the wind, rain would slip through any crack possible. 

There was one other thing for the plus column, though. Your extremely handsome, mysteriously intriguing neighbour. 

You’d only caught sight of him once, if you could call it that. You were leaving late at night to go and meet a friend, and he was entering his apartment right next to yours. He was tall and broad, a mop of curly brown hair tussled on the top of his head with a beautiful array of freckles kissing his neck and his arms. He’d had his headphones on, so didn’t even hear you exit as he fumbled his key in the door. But from the half a second that you saw him, God, he was gorgeous. 

A part of you felt like you’d already met him, or known him for years, even though you didn’t even know what his name was. 

He kept a very particular routine. During the week, his alarm would sound off at the same time every morning. Like clockwork, two minutes later his shower would turn on and you’d hear the hum of him singing through the thinned wall. 

The smell of coffee and burnt toast would hit your nose, shortly before his door would slam behind him and you’d hear the scurry of his feet down the stairs. He’d return home at the same time every day, four thirty. His footing would be slower now, more relaxed as his keys jingled in his hand as he let himself in. 

Then you’d hear his feet plodding across the floorboards, turning on his stereo at a respectful volume but you’d still feel the vibrations of it humming through the walls and the floor, hitting you from the sofa. At around seven, you’d get hit by the smell of whatever he was cooking that night. And on scent alone, you could assume he was a pretty damn good chef. 

On the weekends, you’d hear the same familiar voices of his friends bubbling through. Laughter and chatter spilling into the night, music humming as you heard the cracking open of cans. You’d never seen or met any of them, either. But you could probably pick them out from their voice at a line-up if they ever committed a crime. 

He was respectful to his neighbours, though. His music was never too loud and you’d always hear his sharp shushing when his friend’s laugh would rattle the frame on your wall. Sometimes, you felt like you were invading this mysterious man’s privacy. Listening to his daily routine, his singing in the shower, you even overheard one time when he’d brought home a girl. 

They’d staggered into his place in the early hours, the sound of her giggles and his low voice pulling you awake from your nap on the couch. You laid there for a minute before feeling a pang of guilt bubble in your chest, grabbing your blanket from beside you and padding through your apartment to your bedroom. 

But you were quick to learn – your bedroom backed right onto his. They’d beaten you to it, when you’d settled into bed you could already hear the sighing and whining from next door. And when his headboard started to knock into your wall, you scrambled to grab your headphones from beside you so you could drown them out. 

It wasn’t your fault that you heard everything he was doing, it wasn’t your fault that the walls were so thin and you could probably recite back to him his favourite song on his most played album. And it’s not like you just sat there and listened, it had been months of familiarity and routine that you’d come to learn. You just wished you had the courage to say hi to him. 

On this particular dreary, bleak Saturday, you’d been out in town to meet a friend for coffee and picked up groceries on your way home to make spaghetti for dinner. The bus groaned beneath you as it pulled up to the bus stop a few blocks away from your house, and you huffed to yourself as you pulled your hood up over your hair and secured the two brown bags beneath your arms before getting off the bus. 

The rain hit you instantly, soaking your coat and your jeans as it dampened the paper bags you were desperately trying to keep intact. You practically ran down the sidewalk, cursing to yourself under your breath as you felt the bags turning soggy in your hands. 

Of course, when you were only a few metres from the front door, one of the bags practically disintegrated under your arm. 

“Fuck.” You whined out loud, trying to lean down to catch it. Shaking your head as the hood slipped back around your neck, soaking your hair and your face instantly as you dropped to your knees in an attempt to gather your fallen groceries. 

You were too busy trying to shield the other bag from the rain with your body as your hands scrambled around beneath you to hear someone jog up behind you, dropping to their knees beside you to gather the ingredients in his arms. 

“Those bags are so shit, always falling apart.” The stranger huffed from behind you. 

Your head spun on your shoulders, your eyelashes heavy from the rain so you had to blink a few times to realise it was your neighbour on his knees helping you. You cleared your throat gently, flashing him a small smile as he stood up whilst holding your tinned tomatoes and other items to his chest. 

“Yeah, the rain doesn’t help either.” You chirped as you looked up at him, shoving a tub of ice cream in the bag that was still intact and finally rising from your feet. You held your spare arm out to him, silently attempting to retrieve your belongings. 

He shook his head gently, the corner of his lips curling upward as he tightened his arm around your groceries to shove his spare hand in the pocket of his jeans to fish out his key. “Don’t worry about it, I got it. What floor are you on?”

You swallowed thickly as he slipped past you, your other arm tightening around the soggy bag as you held it to your chest. “Fourth floor, I’m 4C.”

“4C?” A small laugh croaked from his throat, pushing open the door and standing in front of it to let you pass into the warmth of your shared building. “No shit, we’re neighbours. I’m 4B.” 

“Oh, what a coincidence.” You managed as your shoes squeaked with water beneath you as you began trudging up the stairs. Your mouth ran dry at the realisation that your mysterious neighbour was here now, carrying up your groceries for you. Your gorgeous neighbour that you’ve thought about every day since you saw his ear that one time a few months ago. 

The two of you climbed the stairs, shaking off the rain as you reached the fourth floor. You snaked your spare hand into your pocket to grab your own key, opening the door to place the bag in the doorway before relieving the man from your groceries. 

“Thank you for the help, 4B.” You smiled up at him as he carefully administered the goods into your grip, tilting his head down at you as you took a step backward toward your apartment. 

“No need to thank me,” He spoke as he twirled his key around his index finger. The two of you stood there for a moment, gazing up at him over your punnet of grapes before he turned to his front door. “Don’t be a stranger. If you need anything, you know where I am.”

A warmth crept to your cheeks as you nodded a thank you up to him. He opened his door, offering his hand up in a wave as he slinked in as you did the same. Just as you stepped through, he was quick to clear his throat and retreat back out, his head poking around to find yours. 

“Also, you don’t have to call me 4B. I’m Steve, my name’s Steve.” He laughed sort of awkwardly, his smile so bright across his lips it caused his eyes to crinkle slightly. 

“Steve,” You returned his small laugh as you told him your own name. “I’ll see you around, Steve.” 

He nodded in contentment, parting his lips slightly like he was about to say something else, but they were quick to fall shut again. He flashed you a small wave before disappearing next door and back into his apartment. 

Steve. Hm.

You were quick to push off your soaked shoes and shrug off your wet jacket. You placed the armful of groceries on your counter, and returned to retrieve the soggy bag from the doorway and began putting the rest of them away. The familiar hum of Tainted Minds crept through the wall, your smile brightening across your lips as you threw the empty bag into the trash. 

The rain was still prevalent outside, pattering mindlessly against your windows as you lit the many candles you had laid out throughout your space. You peeled your wet shirt off of your body as you made your way to the bathroom, eager to rinse off the rain water and embarrassment of dropping the groceries in front of Steve. 

Warm water hitting your skin felt glorious in comparison to the cold rain from outside. You let it submerge you, washing away the day. After you finished showering and dried off, you changed into comfier clothes and dried your hair off, twisting it into a clip. 

Your cozy socks carried you back to your kitchen as you pushed up the sleeves of your sweatshirt ready to start cooking your spaghetti. Before your hand grabbed the ingredients you needed, it landed on your favourite bottle of rose. 

You poured yourself a generous glass of the sweet wine. It was a Saturday night, and you deserved it. As you leant against the door to your balcony and watched the rain drench your patio furniture, your mind wandered to what type of wine Steve liked. Did he like wine? Was he a beer guy? Or whiskey–

Pulling you out of your thoughts, a loud crash alarmed you from the living room. You placed your glass down on the counter, quickly rounding out of the kitchen to investigate. 

You were met with your window, definitely not where your window should be. The bottom pane had fallen out, the old frame merely hanging by a threat as the curtain began flying throughout the room. A state of panic washed over you, quick to rush over to attempt to put it back in its place. 

But it was no use. The wind coming in from outside along with the rain was no match for your complete lack of window fitting skills. You glanced around you, searching for anything you could find to assist you, but you came to no such luck. 

You leant the loose pane that was somehow still intact against the wall, bringing your hands up to your face in frustration. Your landlord was definitely not going to answer your call at this time on a Saturday night, and you didn’t exactly have the funds in your pocket to call a professional out right now. 

The sound of Fleetwood Mac vibrating through from the apartment next door lit a bulb above your head. Surely Steve might have an idea on a temporary fix, at least until morning. And he did say if you needed anything, and this was anything. 

Maybe it was the half of your glass of wine or your intrigue in your neighbour that plucked up the confidence, but before you knew it you were already out of your apartment and standing in front of his door. 

You hesitated. Reading 4B on the wooden pane, resting your knuckle against it just to feel the pulse from his stereo inside. You then thought about your broken window, and suddenly your knuckle was rattling against the door. 

The music came to a stop instantly, and you took a small step backward as you heard footsteps coming toward you. The door was pulled open quickly, to reveal Steve stood before you. He’d changed and showered too, the ends of his curls slightly damp, he was no longer in his wet jeans but now a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt that hugged him in just the right manner. 

“Hey, everything okay?” He asked gently, his smile that he offered was bright and welcoming but the way his eyebrows laced together offered an inkling of concern. Maybe you looked a bit more frantic than you thought. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your Saturday night, you’re probably busy,” You huffed, lifting your hand to push some hair out of your face as you took in a short breath before continuing. “I was about to start making dinner, and I heard this really loud crash and my window has literally – fallen in. And I can’t fix it, and God, you know as well as I do that Mr. Daniels won’t do anything now, but I can’t sleep knowing that–”

“Hey, hey,” Steve shook his head gently, his large hands coming up to hold your arms. His grip engulfed you, his thumbs softly rubbing against the material of your sweater as he stepped out of his apartment, reaching a hand backward to pull his door closed. “Don’t worry, I can take a look. I’m sure it just needs.. rearranging, or something.”

You nodded gently at his words, letting yourself relish under his touch for a moment before shuffling from his grip. You walked the two of you the short distance to your own place, pushing the door open and holding it for him as he followed. 

“Shit,” He mumbled under his breath at your discarded window pane, glancing back over at you before continuing. “Let me go grab a few tools, I’ll be back.” 

You watched him dart back to his own apartment, and you could even hear him worrying about in there. A loud sigh left your lips as you trudged back into your kitchen, grabbing the glass of wine you’d abandoned and taking another long, deserved sip. 

He returned moments later with a toolbox, and headed straight for the window. You leant in the archway between the two rooms, watching him from around the rim of your glass as his hair flapped through the wind. His hands got to work, you could hear the scratch and twist of his tools as he repaired your window. 

What felt like hours later, he finally had slotted it back into place. He got up from his knees, turning to you with a proud smile across his face. “I’d still call Daniels on Monday, but I think this’ll last you the weekend.”

“Oh, God. Thank you so much, Steve, seriously.” You sighed with relief, a small chuckle passing your lips as you crossed the living room to admire his handiwork. You didn’t know exactly what to expect, the window was back where it should be so it seemed fine to you. 

“I’m glad I could help.” His voice was soft from above, and when you tilted your head to look up at him he was already beaming at you with a warm smile that you could swear you’d dreamt of before, but today was the first time you’d ever seen it. 

You swallowed thickly before speaking, “I was about to make dinner before the– situation. I just opened a bottle of wine, if you want a glass? Least I could do, to repay you.” 

Steve’s eyes glanced to your glass and then back up to your own, nodding gently down at you as he leant down to place the tool in his hand back in its place. “Yeah, I could go for some wine.” 

“Alright then.” You hummed, motioning over to the couch for him to sit on before you retreated back into the kitchen. You grabbed another glass and the bottle, the condensation slippery on your hand as you balanced the neck between your fingers. 

When you rounded back to your living room, Steve was perched on the edge of the couch. You watched him look over the space around him, taking in all of the touches that you’d added through the last few months to make your house a home. 

You broke him from his thoughts when he felt your weight drop beside him, placing your glass on the table before filling up his glass. “So, how long have you lived here then, Steve?”

“Uh, I’ve lived in the building for around eight months now. But the city, nearing two years,” His eyebrows raised gently as he sat there with his knees spread, elbows resting on them as he watched you pour out his glass. He whispered a thanks as he took the glass from you, slowly leaning back into the couch as he looked over at you. “What about you?”

You watched the liquid fall into your own glass, looking back over at him as you placed the bottle back onto the table. “I’ve been here for four months now, it took a long time to find this place. It’s great when it’s not falling apart.” The two of you laughed gently, you hitched one of your legs up onto the cushions and scooted backward, making yourself comfortable. 

“Damn, four months and we’ve only just crossed paths today? Kinda unfortunate.” A small huff passed from his nose, echoing from the glass as he brought the rim up to his lips to take a sip. 

The two of you sat and spoke for what could’ve been hours. You learned that he was from Indiana, a small town called Hawkins where he became a teacher and moved out here to accept a job teaching at another school, which explained his 4:30 return home during the week. 

You learnt about his friends, who you felt like you already knew from all the times you’d heard them through the wall. You even ventured back into the kitchen to grab another bottle of wine, and then another. 

With each trip back from the kitchen, you subconsciously settled an inch closer, to which Steve would return when he’d pop to the bathroom. Or he’d get up to reach over to the coffee table, grabbing a book that you’d left there to read the blurb. And this time when he sat back down, his thigh was grazing your knee. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You spoke, leaning your head against the back of the sofa as you pulled your empty glass closer to your chest. 

Steve nodded gently, inching his shoulders backward to gauge a better look at you. His eyes trailed across your face, and when they landed on the plump of your lip, you watched the corner of his mouth upturn slightly. “Go for it.” 

A small laugh huffed through your nose, bringing a hand up to cover your face before dropping it back against your knee. You were definitely slightly tipsy, otherwise you’d never be admitting this. “These walls are so thin. Like, paper thin. I kinda feel like I already know you.” 

Steve’s expression faltered for a moment, before a spluttered out a short laugh. His head rolled back as he lowered his glass to rest on his thigh, before tilting his own head to look down at you. “Yeah, I feel like I already know you, too.” 

His voice was hoarse and deep as it left his lips, hitting you deep in your gut. Your own demeanor paused, your lips parting in confusion as you looked up at him. His expression worked with your own as realisation dawned on you – if you could hear everything Steve did, then he could hear everything you did.

A loud gasp left your lips as your hand covered your mouth, the two of you bursting into laughter at the prospect of the two of you spending the last four months together but completely apart. 

“Wait, so what did you hear?” He spoke through his laughter, adjusting his body to face yours as his elbow rested on the back of the sofa, leaning his temple against his palm. 

“Uh, well I know that you’re a morning shower person. You’re somehow always late out of the door, every morning,” The buzz of the wine that you shared is bubbling under your skin now as you pour out everything you’ve gathered about your neighbour. “You’re always singing in the shower, always have the stereo on, always, either you like burnt toast or you don’t know how to use your toaster. You–”

“Alright, alright,” He gently chuckled, his tongue running across his lower lip as he shook his head softly, you watched as he tried to fight the smile from growing across his lips. “You have your own quirks, too.”

Your eyebrows furrowed despite yourself, your lips parting before you straightened your posture slightly. “Like what?”

“Well, you always miss your alarm, hear it about five times before you turn it off completely. You also sing in the shower, very loudly. When you sit out on your balcony on a Sunday morning and sit there whistling to yourself for hours. One of my favourites is when you come home drunk and can’t find your keys, it takes you like five minutes to remember that you hide a spare set under your mat.” Steve beamed proudly over at you.

“Anything else?” You teased, a small smirk toying at the corner of your lips. 

Steve shuffled in his seat gently, his eyes darting to your smirk as one mirrored against his own lips before looking back up at you. “I like hearing you talk to yourself when you’re making dinner, or when you’re watching one of your movies too loud.” 

“They’re not too loud.” A small snort left your nose as you shook your head, eyebrows gently furrowed as you thought back to the few times you’d have to turn up your movie over the sound of his stereo.

His voice dropped gently, his fingers rubbing against his chin as he spoke. “But, I think my favourite part is when it’s late. In the middle of the night, and I know you can’t sleep because I hear you trudging around. But then you settle, and I hear those pretty sounds you make when you touch yourself.”

“Steve–” Your breath hitched as your eyes widened gently, heat rushing to your cheeks as you watched him lean ever so slightly closer. Your eyes fell to the swell of his lips, they were so plump and looked so damn soft.

“God, they’re angelic. I swear, I can hear through the walls just how wet you are when you play with yourself.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat as Steve’s hand reached out from holding his head up to brush against your cheek, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I didn’t realise you could hear that.” Your voice left your lips gently, your eyes dragging down his face as you watched him inch closer. 

“I wait for it every night. Sometimes twice, if I’m lucky,” His teeth gently sank into his lower lip as he pushed his fingers through your hair, his nails gently tracing against the skin on the back of your neck. “Feel like showing me, honey?”

Before you could stop and think about what you were doing, your fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer. His lips crashed against your own, his spare hand grabbing your glass from your lap and placing it behind him before it found your waist. 

He was quick to lift from his seat to crowd over you, his grip tightening at your waist as he laid you back on the cushion of your sofa. Your hand pulled from his shirt to unclip your hair, tossing the contraption to the floor before pushing your fingers through the curls on the back of his head. 

Your lips moved together perfectly, like this was exactly where you were meant to be. Your knees parted for him to slip his body between them, hovering over you as his hand slipped beneath your sweater to hold onto your waist. 

As his grip tightened on you, your arms snaked around his neck to pull him closer. His tongue parted your lips, dipping past them to explore your mouth. A sigh escaped your throat, falling straight into his own mouth to which he returned with a soft grunt. 

“I’ve thought about this, you know,” His voice croaked hoarsely against you, pulling himself back to look down at you as his arm that was resting beside your head to hold himself up adjusted slightly to run his fingertips across the skin on your cheek. “I saw you, once. You were leaving when I was coming home. And God, all I could think about was how beautiful you were.” 

Your skin burned under his touch as his hand dragged back and forth against your waist, your teeth sank into your lower lip gently as your eyes took in everything you’d been missing for the last four months up close. 

The crinkles by his eyes when he smiled, the two freckles that sat on his cheek, the way his eyes sparkled under your gaze. Your chest tightened as you took in a sharp breath, exhaling a short breath before speaking. “I saw you once too. Just your ear, but it's a nice ear.” 

He let out a breathy laugh from above you, leaning down to peck a kiss against your lips before they pressed to your cheek, then the curve of your jaw. His hot breath against your skin made your knees beneath him weak, your leg hooking around his own. 

“It’s a shame it took a window breaking for you to come knocking on my door then, huh?” He mumbled against your neck as your head tilted aside to give him more access. A small laugh left your lips, your fingers pushing through his hair to hold the back of his neck. 

You nodded gently, a soft sigh leaving your lips as your back arched from the sofa, pushing your front up into his. “Never thought I’d be thankful for a broken window.” 

Steve huffed a laugh against your skin, pulling himself away from above you to sit back on his knees between your legs. His large palms found your knees, rubbing them gently as your legs rested over his hips. 

You watched as his eyes trailed across your body, taking in the way you laid out for him with your hair spread across the cushion of the couch. His hands slipped from your knees and down your legs, up your hips until they slipped under your sweater to hold your waist, the fabric pooling at his wrists. 

“You’re so beautiful. Do you even know how beautiful you are?” His voice hummed gently as his hands inched up your sides until they reached just beneath your breasts. 

Your cheeks warmed under his touch, and his words. Your own hands coming up to cover his own, squeezing them gently before assisting him in pulling your sweater over your head. After he’d tossed it aside and you came to light, Steve was hovering back over you and tilting your chin up with his index finger to capture your lips against his again. 

A choked moan sounded against your lips from Steve as you pressed yourself against him, you realised that you didn’t put a bra on after your shower, and your hardening nipples were rutting into Steve’s chest through his thin t-shirt. 

“Every part of you is so beautiful, my God,” He hummed as he trailed his lips to suck gently at the skin beneath your ear. He left warm, wet kisses along your collarbone as his hand slipped from your waist up to your breast. “So fucking beautiful.”

His palm closed over your breast, kneading it in his hand as his lips trailed down your chest, between your tits before his wet lips closed around your peaked nipple. His tongue toyed with the hardening peak, flicking it beneath the tip of his tongue as his fingers worked the other, using his thumb and index finger to rub it between them. 

“God, Steve.” You purred gently, your fingers curling through his hair to hold him against you as your hips rolled upward into him, desperate to feel him where you needed him the most. 

He dragged his mouth across your chest to your other nipple, taking it in his mouth as he slipped his hand to your waist and slid it down your body. It found the back of your thigh, squeezing the flesh there before murmuring into you. “Fuck, you sound so good, baby, moaning for me.”

The slurps of his mouth lapping at your chest and the pleasured whines passing your lips drowned out the rain hitting the windows from outside. Steve’s hand slipped beneath you to wrap his fingers around the band of your trousers. 

You lifted your hips for him as he tugged them down with one hand, using your own that wasn’t tangled through his hair to assist him. You manoeuvred your hips accordingly, twisting your legs beneath him to let him pull them off you. 

Steve pulled his lips off you, pressing a gentle kiss against the nub that glistened from his mouth. He lifted himself up slightly, your own hands pulling at the collar of his shirt and tugging it from his back. A breathy laugh pulled from his lips at your eagerness, a soft sigh escaping you as it dropped beside him. 

Hair graced generously across his chest, trailing down in a line that travelled deep into his sweatpants. Your eyes followed each mole and freckle that sat across his chest and his stomach, your smile upturning at the small pudge over his bottoms. 

He settled back on his knees between your legs again, a small smirk tugging at his lips as his hands found your knees. He pulled them apart slowly, his eyes trailing from yours and down your body until they landed between your legs. 

“Fuck,” A tight groan escaped him as his large palms ran up and down your skin. His hands splayed at your inner thigh as they inched closer to your pussy, he inched a hand closer to rub his thumb down your slit slowly. “Look at you, soaked right through.”

A shaky sigh left your lips as he pressed into you, his thumb parting your lips beneath the thin fabric that clung to you. Your eyes darted from watching his hands between your legs to look up at his eyes, your pussy tightening around nothing as you watched the look on his face as he toyed with you. 

He slowly pressed his palm against you, slipping it over your mound to wrap his fingers around the band of your panties. He swallowed thickly as he began to pull them down, his smirk widening as you eagerly lifted your hips for him to remove the fabric. 

When you finally laid bare for him, he took another moment to relish in looking you over before pressing his hands in the cushions beside you and lowering himself to your lips. They were quick to capture yours, sighing against your mouth as your palms ran across his bare chest. 

“Need you, now.” He whispered against you, shifting his weight to his knees as his hands slipped beneath your ass. Your arms snaked around his neck, holding yourself against him as his hand drifted to your lower back to pull the two of you upward. 

You held on to him, your tongue licking and twirling against his own as he pulled you up against him and manoeuvred himself up. Your legs snaked around his waist as he stood, his hand groping at the globe of your ass as he walked you toward your bedroom. The good thing about being neighbours, you assume his apartment was laid out exactly like your own as he knew where your room was. 

He pushed the door open with his foot, crossing the room with fever until his knees hit the frame of your bed. You gasped softly into his mouth as he laid you down on your bed, his hands slipping to your waist as he pulled his lips from you and peppered them across your skin as he made his way down. 

The warmth of his mouth dragging across your chest and down between your breasts made you shiver, the plush of his lips against your stomach inching closer and closer to where you needed him was almost too much. 

He settled at the end of the bed, your legs spread for him with ease as his lips made their way to your mound. His nose nestled against the hair that laid against you, slick with arousal as he made his way down. 

“S–Steve,” You choked as his hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs, holding you open for him as his tongue slipped past his lips to your clit. He circled it with the tip a few times, his touch gentle as his eyes met yours. 

His lips wrapped around the swollen nub, his eyes fluttering shut as he sucked gently. One of his hands released your thighs, shifting to assist his mouth as his middle and ring finger pushed through your folds. Gathering your arousal on his fingers as he spread you open, dipping his tongue through them to get a better taste of you. 

You felt him moan against you as his middle finger pressed against your entrance, pushing in slowly as his tongue explored every inch of you. Delving through your labia as his finger sank deeper inside of you. 

“Y’taste so good, fuck,” You felt him moan against you, his mouth returning to your clit as your fingers found his hair again. You tugged on it gently, your hips rutting upward to chase his finger as he slipped it out of you. “Missing me already, huh?”

He pulled his lips back slightly to glance up at you, a small smirk tugging at your lip as you met his gaze over the heave of your breasts. You nodded softly, your pussy clenching around nothing as you nudged his head back toward you. “Please, baby.”

“Mm, good girl,” He hummed as he leant forward to press a tender kiss to your swollen clit. His smirk grew as you whimpered under his touch, pressing another, then another until your hips were rocking into his face. “Seeing as you asked so nicely.”

He sank two of his fingers into you, a loud cry escaping you as your head rolled back into the mattress. His long, thick digits curled perfectly inside of you as your hips rocked into his hand. Your hand guided him to you again, a content hum leaving him as his lips reunited with your cunt. 

His tongue worked in tandem with his fingers, his tongue working your clit as he fucked you. With each thrust in, his fingers hit deep, pressing on that perfect spot inside of you. 

“Such a tight little cunt, sucking me in,” He panted as he pulled his lips back to watch your pussy suck him back in, groaning at the sounds you were making for him. “You gonna come for me, baby? Come all over me?” 

You nodded quickly, the familiar feeling coiling in your stomach as Steve kept his pace, but fucked you deeper. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, his eyes blinking up at you to watch you come undone around him. 

“Oh– Oh my god, Fuck–” You whined as your thighs trembled around him, your fingers tugging on his hair for good measure as you felt your orgasm approaching. “‘M gonna come, Steve– fuck.”

“Come for me, baby. Such a good girl. Wanna taste you.” He babbled against your clit, savouring your high as you finally let go. He felt you gush around him, releasing over his fingers as his name left your lips as a loud moan. 

Your hand pulled him by his hair, pulling his mouth off your clit as your hips rutted up into his fingers, still working you through it. He pulled himself back an inch to watch your come dribble from out of you, soaking his fingers and your sheets below you. 

His fingers slowed down after a moment, slowly pulling them out of you and you let out a short huff at the loss of him. His touch was gentle as he pushed his wet fingers through your folds, spreading your arousal with that familiar smirk against his lips. 

“Steve–” You huffed gently as you lifted your head to watch him, and as his eyes found yours he brought his soaked fingers up to his lips. Snaking his tongue around them to collect every last drop, the sight alone was enough to probably finish you off again. 

They pulled from his lips with a pop, and his other hand pulled from your thigh to press into the mattress on either side of you. Pulling himself up your body, he captured your upper lip between his own. You moaned against him at the taste of yourself on his lips, your shaky hands coming up to cup either side of his face to ground yourself. 

He was hesitant in pulling away, pressing a few more pecks against your lips before he settled on his side next to you. He rested his head on his hand as his elbow rested beside you, his other hand was gentle as it rubbed against your stomach slowly. 

“You okay?” His voice was soft, gentle which was a complete stark difference to the way he’d been only minutes prior. Your eyes wandered across his face, and despite your orgasm you’d literally just had, you felt your stomach coiling at the sight of him. His hair roused, his chin and lips shining with your come. 

You nodded gently, huffing a small laugh as you rolled your body onto the side to face him. His hand slipped from your stomach to your back as you rolled, desperate to be holding you in any way that he could. 

“Good.” He spoke, almost with triumph, before leaning forward to press a tender kiss to your lips. His hand slipped up your spine slowly, pulling you closer to him as your hand pressed against his chest. 

You were the one to deepen the kiss, your tongue jutting out to drag across his lips. Eager to taste yourself against him as your hand slipped up through the hair that laid across his chest to his shoulder. 

His hand found your ass, kneading it between his fingers as he sighed into your mouth. Letting you take control, your tongue dancing against his as you slowly pushed on his shoulder, rolling him onto his back and taking you with him. 

Your knees slipped to either side of him, both of his hands finding refuge on your ass as your hand slipped to his jaw. Holding him in place as the two of you licked into each other’s mouths desperately, needing to be connected in some way. 

Steve’s hips began twitching gently, and you gasped against him at the feeling of his hardened cock rubbing against your core. Your hand slipped to his chest, and you pushed yourself off of him for composure, your voice shaky as you spoke. 

“Take your fucking pants off. I need you, now.” Your breath was hot against his mouth, you watched his lips part at your admission. He didn’t nod, he didn’t argue, but his hands left your ass and dropped to his hips, pushing his sweatpants down with his boxers as quick as he could. 

You couldn’t help but huff a small laugh at his enthusiasm, biting down on your lip gently as you brushed your lips against his, pecking him once more for good measure before pulling back to sit up completely. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He panted gently as his hands found your hips as you shuffled backward slowly, dragging your hands down his chest and his stomach until your eyes dropped to his heavy cock laying flat against him. 

A small gasp escaped you at the sight of it. Your palm dragged across it slowly, your eyes darting up to Steve as he moaned your name at your touch. His cock was thick and heavy, it made your hand look small as it wrapped around the base of him. The tip was flushed red, dribbling precum down until it hit your hand. 

Your wrist jerked him a few times, hand twisting around the silky skin before you lifted your hips up slowly. You worked blindly, a string of moans passing your swollen lips as his fat tip notched against your clit. 

Steve reached down, taking over so you could steady yourself above him. His eyes didn’t know where to look, whether to watch as he dragged his cock through your folds slowly, watching his cock gather your arousal on it, or watch you with your head rolled back as your hips worked with his movements. Watching as you used him like a toy, letting him glide through you perfectly. 

“How badly do you want it, baby?” He croaked, his hand squeezing your hip as your head slowly rolled back around to look down at him. “Tell me how bad you want my cock.”

Your cunt fluttered at his words, leaning yourself backwards and resting your hands on his thighs. You heard his breath hitched as he watched you, completely spread out for his viewing pleasure as your puffy lips worked his length. 

“So bad, baby. Please– please fuck me, I need you.” Your voice was shaky as it escaped you, tucking your chin into your chest to look down at him. His expression was smug as he watched you, offering a small nod before his other hand found your hip. 

His hands were steady on you, his grip tight on you as he guided your hips until his tip notched at your entrance. The two of you shared a gasp at the feeling, his fat tip pressing at your tight hole was enough for your fingernails to dig deep into the skin on his thighs. 

Your name left his lips with need, his eyebrows furrowing together as he lifted his hips slightly to inch more of himself inside of you. The stretch of his cock opening you made your head spin, and Steve was gentle as he slowly rocked his hips to get you used to his size. 

But you couldn’t wait much more. You lifted yourself forward, your hands resting on his chest as you began to sink yourself further on his cock, matching his thrusts as your head dropped in pleasure. 

One of his hands left your hips to brush the hair from your face, pushing it over your shoulder and pushing his hands through your hair to hold the back of your head as he spoke breathlessly. “Wanna see you, baby.” 

All you could do was nod. Your mind was hazed, all thoughts completely escaping you as you finally seated against him. The entirety of his cock inside you was almost too much, his thumb rubbed at your hip for measure as you lowered your lips to brush against his. 

As soon as your mouth found his, you began to move your hips. The two of you groaned against each other at the feeling, his hand pulling from your hair to grace your hip again as he assisted your movements. 

“Fuck– So fucking tight, baby, you’re so perfect. So beautiful, feel so good.” He spoke against you as he began to thrust his own hips in time with yours, and you worked together perfectly. 

Each time he bottomed out inside of you, he was hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t even know could be reached. The sounds of your skin slapping and Steve’s cock bullying into your cunt was mesmerising, your hand slipped from his chest to hold the side of his neck as you moaned against him. 

His hands slipped from your hips to your ass, his grip stern on you as your body fell flat against his own. “Such a good girl,” He blathered against your lips, “Perfect little cunt, baby. Taking me so well. So tight, you don’t wanna let me go, huh?”

You shook your head against him, your moans becoming incoherent as his cock pummelled into you. You could feel your second orgasm approaching already, with Steve’s hips meeting your own perfectly, hitting deep inside of you with each thrust. 

“I’m close, baby, I’m so close.” You whined against him, pulling your lips back slightly as you began to find it hard to concentrate, so focused on Steve and the feeling of him stretched inside of you. “I–I’m on the pill, Steve.”

You heard him groan at your admission as his hand drifted from your hip, his palm flattening against your mound as his thumb found your clit with ease. His touch on your swollen nub was enough for your forehead to drop against his shoulder, your body weakening as your orgasm inched closer and closer. 

“Mm, head up, baby,” He mumbled as his touch against your clit slipped, the mixture of your arousal and his spit that he’d spread all over your cunt making it a challenge for him – but he locked in. “Need to see that pretty face when you come all over my cock.” 

You lifted your head, your hand slipping to the curve of his shoulder to hold yourself up as you looked down into his eyes. His beautiful, sparkling eyes that were looking up at you with a look you’d never seen before. 

As your lips parted to moan his name, your orgasm hit you like a truck. Steve’s thumb working overtime to bring you over the edge as your walls fluttered around his cock. Your hand held his face steady for you to look down at, needing something to grip onto as you came. 

Steve was close to follow. His hips held you steady on him, seated on his cock as you felt it twitch inside of you, the warmth of his come filling you up made you moan his name again, your lips falling to his cheek and dragging across to his lips. 

He thrust into you shallowly a few more times, signing off on your pleasure before he slowly lifted you off of him. Despite you being completely fucked out, you still sighed against him at the loss of him inside of you. 

Your body melted against him, the sound of both of your heavy breaths filling up your bedroom as your head nestled against his chest. His palm splayed at your back, gently rubbing against your skin as he tilted his head down to press his lips to your sweaty forehead. 

“God, Steve.” You managed, a small laugh escaping you as you slowly rolled yourself off of him. You stayed close, tucking yourself into his side as your hand rubbed against his chest slowly. 

“Can I get you anything? Some water?” His voice was gentle, his hand lifting to push the hair out of your face as he looked down at you. You shook your head softly, lifting your head to rest your chin on the back of your hand to look up at him. 

His eyes bore into yours, the specks of them sparkling as a smile grew across his lips. His hand dropped to your jaw, his thumb softly trailing across your chin. “You’re so beautiful.” 

You tutted gently, your eyes playfully rolling despite your head tilting into his touch. You didn’t miss the fact that you’d just had the best sex of your life with your neighbour who you’d only met a mere few hours ago, but somehow it felt like you’d known him forever. Like you were meant to be laying here in his arms. 

One day you show up unannounced at Family Video. The bell above the door rings as you walk in and you giggle when you see Steve’s hair pop up from between the shelves.

“Baby, what are you doing here?” He’s striding over to you, completely abandoning the stack of tapes he’s supposed to be shelving.

“I just wanted a hug,” you say, your voice small like you’re a little nervous about it.

Steve chuckles, not in a teasing way but like he genuinely can’t believe you came all this way just for that – just for him.

“C’mere then,” he says as he snakes his arms around you. He squeezes you tight and you return his grasp, clutching at his green work vest.

The two of you stay like that, in the middle of the store, for a while.

At one point you hear Robin come out from the break room and mumble ‘Jesus Christ…’ as she averts her eyes from the sickening sight of the two of you swaying to some imaginary music.

When you finally part, you go to walk out the door but Steve’s hand holds on to yours not letting you leave just yet.

“Wait,” he says. Then he says something that he’s heard you ask many, many times, but never said himself – until now, “can I have a kiss?”

You think to yourself if you are half as cute as Steve is when you ask, it’s no wonder he’s down bad for you. Those big brown eyes plead with you, his supple lips pouting as he patiently waits for your answer.

You don’t say anything, just step back into his space, snake your hands around his waist, underneath his vest, and ever so slowly kiss him.

Steve lets you take the lead for once as your tongue swipes at his lips. He opens up for you just for a moment, your tongues softly brushing against each other in a way that feels just about socially acceptable to do in the middle of Steve’s workplace. (Luckily it’s a Tuesday afternoon and the only person there to witness the moment is Robin, much to her dismay.)

He rests his forehead on yours when you’re finished.

“Anything else?” You whisper.

“I can think of a few things but I think we’ll have to save them for later.”

“Hmm.” You nod as a few more things spring to mind for you. “Well, you can always write them down, you know, so you don’t forget.”

“Oh, there’s no way I’ll forget.”

As you exit the store, Steve stays staring at the empty space in front of him as if he can see the imprints of your shoes in the carpet.

“Man, you got it bad, my friend,” Robin comments.

“So bad,” Steve sighs.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Additionally, I would probably also just make grabby hands at Steve constantly to get him to cuddle me…….. need that rn :((((

“Please,” you whined, and he resumed his motions, elbows digging into the bed on either side of you, his lips finding yours again as you met each of his hearty thrusts with your own, the smack of his heavy balls on your ass making you whimper at the feeling of it, of him. “Oh, god一” you half-cried, grasping at his back, fingernails digging half-moons into his skin, and again, he stopped.

“You ok?”

He wasn’t usually like this一it was sweet, that he kept checking on you, but you wondered what was so different about this time.

“Why do you keep asking?” you questioned, not angrily, just curious, and since he’d stopped moving anyway, you had a moment.

“You一just got back,” Steve said, referencing the three-week long business trip you’d needed to take, because your firm was acquiring another, smaller one, and as named partner you’d needed to be there for every step.

“Yes, and I missed my husband, so一?”

“I just thought一you might need to… get used to me again. After three weeks.”

Your face burned, because yes. You and Steve had a very healthy sex life. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone three weeks without fucking him. Probably before you’d met him.

“I don’t think I could ever forget,” you said, drawing him down to you with both hands on his cheeks, pulling his lips to yours. “Don’t you always say I feel like I was made for you?”

It was Steve’s turn to redden, the bashful smile flickering onto his lips and just as quickly disappearing. “You do,” Steve said, shifting his hips, burying his cock into you to the hilt, and then leaning against you even further. “You were.”

You bit at his lower lip, sucking it into your mouth as he kissed your upper lip, and you spread your legs as far as you could for him, giving him all the room he needed.

He met your eyes as you spoke. “Then prove it.”

There was a short, blink of a moment before he moved, and when he started up again, it was with abandon this time. He eased out of you before bullying his massive cock right back into you, feeling you stretch around him, feeling the give of your walls as he thrust in, over and over, hitting all of the right spots because he was so big he simply couldn’t not, and as the sound of skin on skin reached your ears, you moaned his name into his mouth, your hands clutching his arms as he rode you, drilling you down into the bed, your arousal leaking from your slit around his cock, staining your legs, his legs, the wet spot on your bed growing the longer he pounded into you. You could feel yourself dripping, hear the wet squelch of his cock entering you, then leaving you, then entering you, leaving, and at the moment your body gave a kick, so did his.

“Feel you,” Steve mumbled into your ear. “Feel me?” he asked.

“Feel you everywhere,” you mewled”, gasping out your next words. “You were made for一for me too一”

“Prove it,” he said again, and reached a hand down between your bodies, his fingertips spreading over your creamy skin, the ample slick coating your hot folds enough to have you bucking up into him, chasing your release.

“Steve一” you choked out, your body a tight coil, poised to snap, an electrified wire snapping this way and that, until一

“Prove it,” Steve nearly hissed at you, his voice low, thin, and you felt his cock twitch inside of you once, twice.

“God一Steve, I’m coming, I’m一please一”

His mouth found yours, taking your lips in a searing kiss as you felt yourself let go, felt your body crackle with lightning beneath him as he snapped too, his arousal unfurling against yours, bodies writhing together, twisting the sheets, your cunt spasming around his length as he filled you so copiously that you felt it forced out of you as Steve drove his cock shallowly into you a few more times.

“What’s got ya so一fixated on my gut, anyway?” he asked, answering your question with a question, which he only did when you knew he didn’t have a good enough answer to yours.

“It’s barely a gut,” you said, “but even if it was, I’d still love it.” You smiled, lips curling against the little pooch that bulbed over the top of the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs. His cock was still stuck in the cotton, neglected and straining, desperate.

“Yeah, doubt that. Gimme a few more years drinkin’ beer ‘nd I bet ya won’t be sayin’ the same.”

“I’d love it because it’s yours,” you said, letting your lips trail over his bellybutton. He flinched away, ticklish. One of your favorite things about your husband was that for as tough as he acted before, and still now after, was that he was also beholden to the laws of being ticklish. He couldn’t help it, no one could.

“Well can ya love me a little bit lower?” Gator asked, lowering his hand to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your eyelashes, touch soft and tentative.

“In a minute,” you said, giving him a spattering of five or ten or twenty kisses, all over the slight belly he had, a couple years of living in comfort with a woman who cared about him treating him just fucking fine. (Also, the beer.)

“I’mma start countin’,” Gator said. “Sixty…”

“Enough, Tillman,” you said, sucking a bruise, you hoped, against his ribs. Even though he couldn’t see, you loved marking him with lovebites. Maybe it was a little egotistical, but knowing he belonged to you drove you crazy.

“Enough yerself,” Gator said. “‘Nd yer a Tillman now too, so that last name shit don’t work no more. Down ta forty-three, Tillman.”

You pressed your face into his stomach, knowing he could feel you smiling, because you heard him huff a little laugh.

“You’re just going to be disappointed,” you said, resuming your work of kissing every square inch of Gator’s exposed abdomen. You sunk your fingers into his sides a little, letting them dig divots into the little roll, and he lifted his hips up into you, his rigid cock brushing against your chest where you laid on top of him.

“Twenty-four,” Gator said. “Remember ‘s how old I was when I met ya.”

You pause, looking up at him, because you wouldn’t have expected that piece of information to be filed away in his memory, but apparently it was.

His fingers were back in your hair, but he wasn’t guiding your face down or trying to. He was just holding you. You leaned your head into his hand, then ducked your head.

“Ten,” Gator said, and you laughed, the huff of your breath on his happy trail making his stomach tense up a little.

“You’re counting down for nothing,” you said, letting your lips trail over the hair beneath his bellybutton.

“Six,” he continued. “Five, four, three… two…two and a half…”

“Two and a half is more than two,” you said, letting your fingers curl into his briefs, tugging them down an inch, exposing the thick tuft of hair at the base of his cock.

“Two and three quarters,” Gator said, and you laughed, finally pulling his underwear off.

“Tell me,” you whisper. It’s not that you expect rhapsodizing. But everyone likes pretty words now and then.

“Like a fuckin’一fuckin’一” Gator stammers.

Well. Worth a shot.

“So fuckin’ soft ‘nd wet, ‘nd fuck, squeezin’ me so good,” he manages. His voice is tight, so you know he means it, know he’s close.

It’s filthy talk, because it’s Gator Tillman, and he’ll never be a poet laureate. But he can talk you through it, you’d be willing to bet. So you return the favor.

“So big,” you say, and he untucks his face from your neck to look up at you, his hips faltering for a moment, but he regains the rhythm after a few sloppy thrusts. You shift your hips, angle yourself a little differently, and you both moan when he reaches new places inside you, when you clench up around him because of it. “So fuckin’ hot and god, don’t stop,” you groan.

“Ain’t gonna,” Gator says, lifting himself up a little, and his lips drag shyly over the underside of your jaw. Like he’s asking permission for something neither of you, especially him, knew he wanted.

“Please,” you say, hands roving over his shoulders, his arms, and you turn your face a little toward his. Your upper lip brushes his bottom lip, and he does freeze in place for a moment like a frightened deer.

And then, it’s like a deluge from him, his mouth covering yours, kissing you so, so goddamn slow and languid you don’t think he’ll ever pull away.

You hike your legs up, thighs pressing into his sides as he keeps drilling into you, but he’s kissing you like he’s never kissed anyone before一for all you know, he hasn’t一and never wants to stop kissing you, either.

Your hands are on his chest now, fingers running through the thick patch of hair, feeling his heart fluttering beneath your touch, feeling his tongue beg entrance and you let him in, but even still, it’s tentative. He’s learning you, how to do it, how you like it一and you’re showing him. Your body is taking him in in every way that you can, and when you feel his hips slap against yours one final time, feel the heat spread inside of your cunt as he comes deep within you, his mouth unmoving from yours as he kisses you, claims you一you feel yourself come too, untouched, overwhelmed with everything that just happened. To you, for you, from you.

“You weren’t here,” you said, “and I got… you know.”

Steve smirked. “Horny?” he said, tone teasing.

“Stop!” you said, batting at him with one of your sweater paws, but you were laughing. “But yes.”

“So you put on my sweater…” Steve said, sitting back on his knees, your thighs splayed open, knees over his hips, “...like it was the next best thing?”

“Yeah…” you said, keeping one hand balled up in the sweater and tugging it up to expose just the underside of your tits to him, biting down on one finger一not trying to be suggestive but failing in that attempt一and with your other hand, you lowered it back down between your legs, letting your fingertips move over the seam of your lips again.

Steve watched you, tongue flitting over his lower lip. You could tell he wanted to taste you一but you had a solution to that, because you were already halfway there and wanted him, his cock, splitting you open一not his mouth. At least not first.

“Wait,” you said, and Steve’s eyes flicked up to yours. “I一” You hesitated, because as good as he was at speaking to you with filthy, arousing worst, you weren’t all that practiced in the art. “You… like how I taste. Right?” you asked.

One of his eyebrows quirked in interest, like he was wondering where you were going.

“Well I一I want you to一to fuck me,” you said, struggling to get the words out, and only because you were building it up in your head too much.

Steve’s fingers joined yours slipping through your folds, thicker, rougher than your own. “You know I will,” he said, “but I’d love to taste you first.” You watched, lips parted, as he lifted his dripping fingers to his lips and sucked them off, before letting his wet hand splay out on your thigh, pushing you a little more open.

“Well that’s what I一” you stammered, knowing you could have planned what you were going to say, because he was a simple man who liked simple pleasures, and that happened to be eating you out. “I knew that,” you continued, and lifted your own hand to your mouth, tracing your lips to let your arousal linger there, before you stuck out your tongue and dragged your fingers over it, your fluids mixing with your spit. “So I’ve been… doing that. If you kiss me, you’ll taste me too.”

Steve watched, his lips quirking up into a half smile, as he undid his belt, untucked his shirt from his jeans, and shoved them down just enough to get his cock out. He was already half hard, and just another few strokes had him ready for you. You propped your legs up a little further onto his sides, and he leaned forward, feeding the head of his cock into you. Your hips kicked as you took him in, and he let himself rest atop you, grinding his hips into yours rather than thrusting, his movements grounding you, joining you to him, and he licked into your mouth the way he would lick into your cunt if you’d have just let him.

“Nn,” you sighed, because he was kissing you, but then he wasn’t一he was sucking your lips and licking over them, fucking your mouth with his tongue the way he’d fuck your slit, and you could only try to kiss him back during the moments he relented.

“Taste so good,” he muttered, one of his knees moving up alongside you, pushing your legs open even further, so he could fuck you even deeper, his cock lazily moving into you, filling you, giving you pressure and girth and just the tiniest bit of friction when he moved.