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Rhett Abbott was a pleaser through and through, the kind of man who found his deepest satisfaction in the slow unravelling of the woman beneath him–whether he coaxed it from them with the patient glide of his calloused fingers, the hungry press of his mouth, or the thick relentless thrust of his cock. That gift lived in the marrow of his very being, quiet and private, shared only with the lover who let him in. He lived for the moment their bodies gave in to his: the helpless roll of hips, the sudden clench of their inner walls around him, the slick flood that left him drenched and aching for more, and of course, the shivering and shaking that followed his ministrations.

With you, though, the script had shifted from the first night you had pulled him close and whispered that you didn’t need anything but him inside you. No teasing fingers, no slow worship of his tongue–just the raw drive of his body into yours.

At first he had taken it as eagerness, the same sharp hunger that kept him awake thinking about you. But weeks slid into months, and the pattern held. You guided him straight to the main event every time, breath already ragged before he had even settled between your thighs.

He knew the signs of a real orgasm too well to miss their absence. The way a woman’s thighs would start to tremble and lock around his waist. The broken little sounds that climbed higher and higher until they fractured. The sudden, rhythmic pulse around his cock, the wet heat that coated him so completely he could feel it dripping down his own thighs. 

None of it came with you. Instead there were the careful performances–the arched back, the bitten lip, the breathy moans timed just right. He cataloged every one, turning them over in his mind like puzzle pieces that refused to fit.

So he began to experiment, desperate to find the missing key. He hooked your legs over his shoulders and fucked you so deep the headboard slammed against the wall. He growled filthy praise against the shell of your ear while his hips snapped forward, with the heavy drag of his cock stretching you open on every stroke. He sucked hickeys into the soft skin beneath your jaw, then lower, pulling your nipple between his teeth until it the flesh was swollen. 

Still, nothing. 

When his hand would drift downward, seeking the slick, swollen bud of your clit, you would catch his wrist with surprising speed and press his palm to your throat or the curve of your breast instead. Never where he needed to go. Never where he knew he could make you fall apart.

He noticed every redirection, and he said nothing, not wanting to embarrass you, not wanting to watch shame flicker across your face. But the questions gnawed at him in the quiet hours after you had fallen asleep against his chest. What was he missing? What could he give you that you wouldn’t let him? 

The only things left untried were his mouth and his fingers, and you had shut them down firmly.

“I just need you,” You would murmur, already reaching for his cock, guiding the blunt head through your folds until he sank inside with a groan, “Just like this.” 

Until one night the dam inside him finally cracked.

The two of you were tangled in the middle of his bed, the sheets twisted around you calves, clothes strewn across the floorboards in a messy trail from the door. Moonlight leaked through the half-drawn blinds, striping the room in silver and shadow. You still wore your sheer black panties and the matching delicate unlined lace bra that left nothing to the imagination; he was down to his black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide how hard he already was. Other than that, it was skin to skin everywhere else–his bare chest pressed to yours, the dark ink of the bucking bull and rider across his right pectoral shifting with every breath you stole from him.

Your mouths moved together in a wet, open kiss, tongues sliding, and tasting one another. You sucked on it and the clean bite of wintergreen still clung to his saliva from the gum he had chewed earlier; the flavour bursting over your senses in a cool drift, causing you to moan into his mouth, letting the sound vibrate between you. His hair was damp at the roots where your fingers had raked through it, and you tugged hard, hearing him answer with a low rumble that rolled straight down your spine. 

He shifted his weight, sliding one powerful thigh between yours. The muscle was dense from years of riding, and the coarse hair on it dragged deliciously against your inner thighs. When it settled against your core, the soaked fabric of your panties clung to him instantly. Heat bloomed where your bodies met and you could feel the steady throb of his erection against your abdomen, heavy and insistent, the fabric of his briefs already damp from his pre-cum.

A rough grunt left his throat, and he rolled his hips once, letting you feel every inch of him against you. At the same time his hand travelled down the length of your spine, his fingertips tracing the soft skin of the valley with aching patience until they slipped beneath the elastic of your panties. The rough pads of his fingers brushing the swell of your ass, teasing you with a small squeeze.

You broke the kiss on a gasp, palms flattening against his chest. Beneath your hands his heart hammered, the firm swell of muscle rising and falling, the raised lines of black ink warming beneath your touch. His lips were parted, shiny with your spit, and the stubble along his jaw looked darker in the low light, framing the slight, crooked smile that always appeared when he knew he’d made you breathless. His blue eyes–storm-dark now with lust–dropped to your mouth, taking in the swollen curve of your lower lip, and the faint red lines from where his teeth had grazed the tender flesh.

“I need you,” You whispered, voice cracking, “Please fuck me, Rhett.” Your fingers circled his wrist, trying to draw his hand upward to your breast, to the tight peak already straining against the lace. But you were only met with resistance, his arm staying exactly where it was, his thumb stroking slow circles over your ass.

“How about I go down on you first?” His voice had dropped into that gravel-rough register that always made your stomach flip, each word thickened by want, “I’ve been dyin’ to get a taste of you.” 

A flash of panic cut through the haze, and you shook your head quickly, feeling your cheeks burning beneath his eyes.

“I…I just wanna have sex.” Rhett’s brows drew together, carving a small, worried line between them, his eyes searching your face with a patient sweep.

“Y/N…” The way he said your name was softer than the rest of the words that fell from his mouth, almost like it was plush against his tongue, forcing him to say it with the upmost gentleness, “Why won’t you let me go down on you or finger you? Is it me?” There was a pause as he tried to find the right words to piece together, his thumb still moving in a soothing rhythm against your skin, “Are you nervous? Have you never experienced it before? Like…What’s goin’ on?” 

You tried to look away from him, but he followed, tilting his head until your gazes locked again. There was no judgement in his expression, only a quiet, steady concern that made your chest ache. Your heart stuttered hard, and tears prickled hot behind your lashes; you blinked them back, but one escaped anyway, sliding down your cheek.

Rhett’s jaw went slack at the sight, drawing in a slow, deep breath, before lifting his free hand to cradle the side of your face. His palm was clammy and warm, the skin there rough and sheared from ropes that he had held and pulled on throughout the past couple of days, yet the touch he used with you was impossibly gentle, like you were a piece of fine china that would break if he wasn’t soft with it.

“Baby,” He murmured, voice low and steady, “Talk to me. I’m right here. I ain’t goin’ anywhere, no matter what the answer is, okay?” His thumb brushed over the delicate skin just beneath your lashes, as if he could wipe away every fear you’d been carrying alone, to ease you into some sort of comfort so you could talk to him. The room suddenly felt smaller, sharp focused on you like even the air was waiting for your reply, and it made you queasy, yet you knew you couldn’t hide this from him any longer than you have. 

You took in a shaky breath, sniffling, before bringing your eyes to meet his.

“I…I’ve never…It’s just…I…” You struggled to find words to explain yourself, and you were growing frustrated with the heaviness of nerves that coursed throughout your body, and Rhett could see it in your face, the way your brows furrowed and how your nose scrunched at the struggle. He let out a small sigh, and leaned in, giving you a small wet kiss in the middle of your forehead, leaving an imprint of his lips behind.

“Just breathe, darlin’…Take your time.” He urged, rubbing at your lower back, watching as you took in a shaky breath, letting it out in a hot gust against his chest. There was shame inside you, embarrassment pouring out and flooding your lungs like you were drowning in an endless pool of water. It was choking you, and you could feel the burn as you pushed through the discomfort, taking in a short breath.

“It’s hard for me to finish…” You admitted quietly, your words vibrating into the scant space between the both of you, and he felt his heart stutter for a moment. The thought crossed his mind that he truly wasn’t doing enough to get you off, and that he inadvertently failed to put your pleasure at the forefront, and for the briefest second he felt ashamed that he didn’t bring this up sooner.

“It’s always been difficult and…I just don’t want you to waste your time trying to get me off only for me not to…Cum.” You added shyly, pulling back slightly to look up at him, seeing the look of utter surprise on his face, his lips parted on a breath, his eyes soft and far more observant, like you were under a microscope. He swallowed down the dryness in his throat, and immediately leaned into you, pressing a small kiss to your lips, trying to bring you comfort amid the embarrassment that was beginning to make you feel lightheaded.

“Honey…Why didn’t you just tell me that?” He asked, his hot breath flooding your mouth with each word. It was soft, nonjudgemental, and filled with concern. You knew it was a stupid thing to keep away from him for so long, and you felt bad for doing it, but memories from all the other times you told your past partners about this issue overtook the idea of even broaching the subject with him, even though he was practically an anomaly when it came to all the people you had dated prior. 

Rhett was always understanding of you, he was always the comfort that brought you peace after rough days, the elixir that solved all your problems with a simple touch, and you should’ve known that you could’ve shared anything with him, regardless of how sensitive the topic was, and he was proving it to you even now that you were his main priority, just by the tone in his voice, and the way he held himself.

“I was just scared…My past partners weren’t really patient with me and they would get frustrated with the fact they couldn’t get me off even when they tried…And I was worried that it would make you frustrated too, so I just…Avoided it completely. I didn’t want that problem to ruin what we have.” You explained, feeling his thumb run over the skin beneath your eye again, wiping away the wet streak that your tear left. He shook his head at you, and sighed.

“I would never have let it ruin our relationship, baby…” He affirmed, “I’m sure a lot of women go through the same thing that you do…But…You’re with me…And I want to give you the pleasure that you deserve, no matter how long it takes. You understand?” He added, keeping his eyes glued to yours, watching the way your throat bobbed when you gulped at his words. Your lashes fluttered, and you could feel your stomach clench, a rush of warmth flooding through you, drowning the nervousness and smothering it completely.

“I…I understand.” You replied, earning a small smile from Rhett.

“Good…Now…Lay on your back, and let me try and relieve this dry spell.” He said, placing another kiss to your lips, before urging you turn until your head rested on one of his fluffy pillows. You took in a deep breath, as he adjusted himself, and got on top of you, settling his weight between your thighs and bringing one hand up to cradle the side of your neck.

“Gonna make tonight all about you…You’re my sole focus.” He whispered, pressing an array of kisses to your cheek, letting a gust of hot air stick to your skin, “How does that sound?” He asked, feeling your hands coming up to rest against his ribs.

“Nerve wracking.” You stated, earning a little laugh from him.

“Just relax, focus on your breathing…And let me do the work.” His voice almost made your insides knot up just from the tone he was taking with you, and you could feel your entire body heating up, like a warm blanket was swaddled around you, shielding your mind from the thoughts that were threatening to race through it. 

“Okay.” The word slipped from you in a whisper, barely more than a breath, and Rhett answered by tilting your head with the gentlest pressure of his fingertips, exposing the long line of your throat to him. His mouth found the pulse fluttering there at once, lips brushing soft as velvet before the scrap of his stubble followed–rough like sandpaper–dragging over sensitive skin and pulling a shiver straight down your spine. He smiled against your throat, the curve of it warm and crooked, then dragged the flat of his tongue along the faint sheen of sweat that had gathered there. The low, satisfied sound he made at the salty taste of you, vibrated against your skin, sinking into your bones.

He moved lower without hurry, mouth painting open, wet kisses along your collarbone. His teeth grazed the thin strap of your bra; he caught it, tugging it slowly off your shoulder with a soft snap of elastic, then sank a bite into the warm muscle there–just enough to sting sweetly. A hum rose in your throat, helpless, as each sensation layered over the last: the prickling drag of stubble, the humid heat of his breath clinging like mist, the slick glide of his tongue tracing every dip and curve he could reach. His kisses left glossy trails that cooled in the air, marking you in faint, shimmering paths across your skin.

When he reached your breasts he paused, eyes dark and reverent. His large hands slipped beneath the delicate lace, easing the cups down until the fabric bunched under the soft weight of you. His mouth followed at once–slow, open kisses circling the plump swell of one breast, then the other, his teeth nipping lightly, lips sucking until faint marks bloomed beneath them.

He took one tight nipple between his lips and drew it deep, tongue rolling over the sensitive peak in lazy, firm strokes. The suction pulled a sharp arch from your back, pressing you harder into his mouth, His free hand covered the other breast, palm broad and warm, kneading with perfect pressure–his thumb sweeping over the neglected peak until your head spun and your fingers twisted in the sheets. 

He stayed there longer than anyone ever had, lost in the taste and texture of you, a low groan of pure appreciation rumbling from his chest each time your breath hitched or your hips twitched beneath him.

At last he released your nipple with a soft, wet pop, then blew a slow stream of hot air across the glistening skin. The sudden coolness made it tighten further, and a slow, devastating smile curved his mouth.

“God, you’re beautiful…” The words were barely spoken, more felt than heard, as he dragged his lips down the valley between your breasts, then lower still. He kissed along the soft plane of your stomach, pausing to lick a slow strip wherever the urge took him, savouring the clean, warm taste of your skin. His nose nuzzled into the softness beneath your ribs, inhaling you like he could pull the scent of your body straight into his lungs. His teeth grazed lightly, just enough to make your belly flutter, before he shifted lower, mouth hovering at the lace waistband of your panties.

His gaze dropped to the sheer black fabric now glistening and clinging to your wetness. The sight pulled a hungry tilt to his lips.

“Can’t wait to taste you…” He pressed a lingering kiss to one hip, then the other, stubble rasping deliciously against the thin skin there, “Are you okay if I take your underwear off?” 

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, heart hammering so hard you were sure he could hear it. All you could manage was a quick nod.

Rhett’s eyes stayed locked on yours as he hooked two fingers beneath the delicate band and began to draw the soaked lace down your thighs–agonizingly slow, revealing every glistening inch of you to the cool air and his heated stare. You lifted your legs one at a time so he could slip the fabric free, then watched with baited breath, as he lifted the drenched scrap to his face. He inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering half-closed at the sweet, musky scent of you, and the sound that left him was pure, raw want.

“You smell so fuckin’ amazin’…” The gravel in his voice had thickened further, rough as river rock. He tossed the panties aside without looking, then settled his hands on your knees, his thumbs stroking soothing circled into the soft skin before gently pressing them apart. The position left you completely open to him, your slick folds shining in the low moonlight that striped across the bed. 

He drank in the sight of your dripping core for a long moment, something fierce and tender flickering across his face. The thought that no one had ever given you this–had ever taken the time to learn exactly how to unravel you–settled heavy and sweet in his chest. He would be the first. He would make damn sure of it.

Instead of rushing, he leaned in and began kissing his way up the inside of one thigh, then the other. His large hands held you open, palms hot against the trembling muscle. Every action was well thought out: soft presses of lips, the wet drag of his tongue, the sharp, perfect sting of teeth followed immediately by soothing suction. The contrast sent sparks racing straight to your core, your breath coming faster, your hips shifting against the mattress.

Closer and closer he moved, until his thumbs brushed the crease where thigh met body. You glanced down and found his storm-blue eyes already waiting for yours. He pressed one slow kiss directly to the soft swell of your mound, lips warm and sure against it. When your jaw slackened on a shaky exhale, he took it as permission and trailed lower, mouth brushing along the slick outer lips, tasting the heat gathered at your entrance.

“You ready?” The question was low, hushed, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive flesh. You swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in your throat.

“Ye-Yeah…” Rhett gave your hips one last gentle squeeze, grounding you, then dragged the flat of his warm, wet tongue in one long, devastating stroke from your entrance all the way up to your swollen clit. 

The sensation was hot, slick, and achingly thorough, ripping a raw, broken sound from deep in your throat that echoed through the quiet room like a secret finally set free. Your hands flew down to grip the backs of his, fingers digging into the strong tendons there, anchoring yourself against the sudden flood of heat the coursed through your veins. 

Rhett nuzzled closer, the bridge of his nose brushing firmly against your swollen clit as he dragged his tongue over your folds again, slower this time, savouring. Your arousal coated the muscle–thick, sweet, and unmistakably yours–and the low, delighted moan that vibrated against your core told you everything: he was already lost in you, utterly devoted to the arousal that poured out of you. His mouth moved with purpose, open and hungry, like he was making out with you pussy, sucking gently at the soft, slick lips before gliding upward to circle your clit with the flat of his tongue, then flicking the sensitive bundle in quick, precise strokes that made your hips jerk.

He took his time, exploring every inch as though committing you to memory. No rush, no singular focus–just slow discovery, his lips parting and closing around you, tongue tracing patterns that gripped your spine. You felt seen, unravelled thread by thread, as if he were reading the hidden language of your body and answering it with perfect reverence.

With a subtle shift of his broad shoulders, Rhett eased himself fully onto his stomach between your spread thighs, the mattress dipping under his weight. His strong hands tugged you down the bed until your core pressed flushed against his mouth again. His lips sealed around your clit, sucking softly while his tongue lapped in steady, soaking strokes. One hand left your hip: you felt the rough pads of his fingers slide down to spread you open wider, exposing every glistening fold to the cool air and the heat of his breath. The tip of his tongue flicked rapidly over the uncovered bundle of nerves, making sure you could feel it all.

Your breath caught, chest rising sharply. You squeezed the hand that you still held, watching the way his light brown hair fell forward across his forehead, strands sticking to the skin as his head moved between your thighs. His eyes were closed in concentration, lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks, the strong line of his jaw working as he devoured you. The sight alone sent another pulse of heat straight to your core.

You had no idea how long he stayed there–minutes, hours, time had dissolved–licking broad stripes through your folds, sucking the delicate skin between his lips, pressing open-mouthed kisses that left you trembling. When he finally slid two thick fingers along your entrance, circling the slick heat there, teasing the tight ring of muscle, your whole body flinched.

He pulled back just enough for you to see his face–lips shiny, chin glistening with a mixture of his spit and your arousal, his eyes dark and blown wide with lust.

“Are you okay with me using my fingers?” The question was low and careful, his breath warm against your soaked flesh. He wanted to be sure you were comfortable with whatever he was doing and he didn’t want to take it upon himself to make any decision without your approval.

“Yeah…Yeah, that’s okay.” Your voice came out shaky, but certain.

Rhett’s mouth returned to you at once, his tongue resuming its slow, devastating laps while his two thick fingers pressed inside you, stretching your walls with a gentle burn. The moment they sank to the knuckle he curled them upward, stroking a sensitive spot deep within you, that evidently only he could reach. The pressure built immediately–strange, heavy, blooming low in your belly like a storm gathering force. When he drew them back and thrusted in again, slow and deep, a breathless whimper tore from your lips. Your stomach fluttered hard; your inner muscles clenching greedily around the intrusion.

He groaned against your clit at the tight squeeze, the sound vibrating straight through you. For the briefest second he lifted his mouth, voice rough and wrecked. “Does that feel good?” His words muffled into you.

“Feels…Amazing.” You praised on a broken exhale, and you squeezed his hand harder. His tongue retuned instantly, playing over your clit with renewed focus–sucking the swollen bundle between his lips, nipping gently, then soothing with broad, wet strokes. Obscene, wet sounds filled the room: the slick glide of his fingers thrusting steadily, the soft suck of his mouth, the faint creak of the bed beneath your shifting weight. Your thighs pressed tighter against the sides of his head, trying to hold him exactly where he was, as if you could keep this feeling forever. Heat surged through your skin, every inch of you burning from the inside out. The muscle low in your abdomen began to twitch in rhythmic pulses you had never felt so intensely before.

“Oh…Oh god…” The moan spilled from you unbidden, head falling back into the pillow as sweat traced a slow line down the valley of your spine.

His fingers kept curling, thrusting deeper, faster, perfectly in time with the relentless suction on your clit. A new urgency built inside you–sharp, insistent, an overwhelming pressure that felt dangerously close to the edge of the familiar feeling of having to pee. Panic flared hot in your chest: you had never felt this during sex, never while touching yourself, never like this. The thought of losing control so completely, of soaking his face with your pee instead of your arousal during the very first time he went down on you, made your thighs tense hard around his ears. You squeezed his wrist hard.

“Rhett. You have to stop! I feel like I’m going to pee!” The warning came out desperate, voice cracking.

But Rhett didn’t stop. If anything, his tongue moved faster, flicking and sucking with single-minded intensity while his fingers drove deeper, curling harder against that devastating spot inside you. Your breathing fractured into quick, shallow gasps. You reached down with your free hand, threading your fingers through his thick hair and tugging at the roots, giving in completely, knowing he wasn’t going to stop. A deep grunt rumbled against your core in response, the vibration pushing you even closer to the edge.

Your belly tightened impossibly. Your body shook. Your hips rolled up toward his mouth despite the panic, chasing the feeling even as you tried to fight it. He brought his forearm over your lower stomach, holding you steady, keeping the rhythm exact, merciless.

A high, needy whine escaped your throat. When you looked down, his eyes were already locked on yours–dark, knowing, encouraging.

He sucked your clit hard between his lips and quickened the curl of his fingers until the world fractured.

Your mind went white-hot and silent. A sudden, powerful gush of wetness sprayed from you, soaking his cheeks, your inner thighs, and the sheets beneath you in a hot rush. Every muscle in your body seized at once–back arching sharply off the bed, thighs clamping around his head, your core pulsing and fluttering wildly around his fingers in deep, rhythmic waves. Whimpers poured from your lips, but you couldn’t hear them; the roar in your ears drowned everything except the white flash behind your eyes and the endless, shuddering pleasure crashing through you.

Rhett groaned in pure satisfaction, licking and sucking through every pulse, drawing out the release until you were trembling and oversensitive.

Only when the spasms finally began to ease did he slip his fingers from your clenching head, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean with obvious relish. Then he leaned down again, dragging his tongue through your folds in long, gentle strokes, cleaning every trace of your release with tender thoroughness, making sure nothing was wasted.

You laid boneless and breathless, chest heaving, body twitching with aftershocks as the last ripples faded. When he finally lifted his head, his voice cut through the ringing in your ears.

“…How was that?” You looked down at him–face flushed, lips swollen and shiny, hair a wild mess from your fingers–and managed a shaky laugh that turned into a soft, stunned moan.

“Fuck…Rhett, Jesus Christ that was so good.” A slow proud smile spread across his face, the crooked tilt of it devastating in the low light. He laughed softly, the sound warn and intimate against you sensitive skin.

“Want me to do it again?” The question stole the air from your lungs. Your fingers tightened in his hair at the roots as fresh heat pooled low in your belly again, reigniting like it craved more already.

“…God…Yes, please.” 

it's not that he didn't want things, not that he didn't want you, but his anxiety and the uncertainty of understanding his desires now as a clean man and a superhuman made him hesitate on everything. walker had given him some sage advice about how addiction can go from substance to people and acts, and while he usually couldn't stand anything that man said, he had to admit that it was a worry.

he didn't want to mess this up. didn't want to lose you. so, he was patient, willingly, and understanding.

it took some getting used to, learning how to read his nonverbal cues. he'd click his nails together when he was trying to work something out in his head, the way he would chew the inside of his cheek when he was getting hungry, the way his eyes would linger a few seconds too long when you wore his favorite dress, and the way he's lick his lips when you'd take your bra off.

you were only meaning to shower, having undressed in your room while he lay in your bed reading, when you glanced up just in time to see him lick his lips and blush darkly before going back to his book. you were gone 15 minutes max, but it was long enough to get your thoughts racing.

the moment you were back in your room, you didn't bother even pretending to put clothes back on, tossing your towel to the hamper before crossing the room to your bed and crawling in. bob's eyes were wide, doing their best to remain on your gaze and not wander across your body. he swallowed hard as you took this book from his hands, setting it on the nightstand and taking your place atop his lap.

"whatcha doin'?" he asked, hands coming to rest atop your bare thighs.

"tryna figure out what you wanna be doing," your slight accusation had him flushing, eyes darting to the side before looking back at you.

"i'm fine doing whatever," at this point, it wasn't even convincing anymore.

"we both know that's not the full truth," you countered, leaning forward to press a soft, testing kiss to his nose. it wasn't hard to see the was his eyes lingered on your chest before before they fluttered close. "now, tell me, what do you want? there's a chance i could want it to."

"what do you want?" he tried to twist it back onto you like he always did.

it was almost comedic. even after over a year of being together, you were still working on his ability to ask you for things, to not feel like a burden for wanting things. "nu uh," your breath fanned over his skin, adding to the flush on his cheeks, "i asked first."

there was a pause, a moment of an internal battle before his hands trailed upwards: over the plump of your thighs, curve of your hips, dips of your waist, settling just below your breasts with his thumb just barely touching the swell of them. "wanna play with these," he mumbled.

"play with them?" you would normally make him say it a little louder, but you had better questions to have answered, "just wanna play with them?"

the question made his flush bloom darker, pupils dilating with the thought as his tongue dipped out momentarily. "play with, kiss, lick, suck." he mumbled out again, shifting just slightly underneath you.

you couldn't stop your thighs from squeezing together, your own skin heating with desire. now was your turn to hesitate. you had seen something online before about people cumming just from their nipples being played with, but never tried that yourself. but, bob seemed eager to try and you hadn't even mentioned it yet.

your hands carded through his hair, tension weaving through the air. "want you to try and make me cum like that," you hummed out.

bob looked like he was seeing the 9th wonder of the world as his eyes fell to your chest, lips slightly parted in awe. "make you cum just from playing with your pretty tits?"

the way he said it, and the slight embarrassment from your request had you giggling softly as you nodded. whenever he was emboldened, there was a glimpse of the cocky florida man you only ever heard stories about. "if you can, we can spend tomorrow going to that museum you've been wanting to go to."

bob was always amazed by your ability to remember the passing comments he'd make. but, even without the offer, he'd be more than willing to try. "deal," he breathed out, thumbs rubbing back and forth as he leaned forward to press his lips to yours.

it was lazy at first, building in anticipation as his lips worked against yours. his hands avoided your nipples, feeling your skin prick against his touch as he took his time massaging your skin. just as bob pulled back, his thumbs brushed over both your nipples, sending a shock of pleasure through you.

it was already more pleasurable than you were anticipating, but there was a shadow of a doubt that it may not be enough. though, that wasn't stopping bob. he leaned down, tongue poking out to flick at one of your nipples, continuing to toy with the other as he did.

he found a rhythm, licking, sucking, kissing at your skin, sucking on the flesh and leaving marks no doubt to blossom later. back and forth, over and over as your hips shifted in search of some form of friction. it was unadulterated, unparalleled to any other form of desperation you had felt.

you weren't even sure how long he had been going, nerves raw with pleasure that the coil in you had gone unnoticed until you were right on the brink. a particular wriggle of your hips ground you down against the wet patch of his sweats, perfectly timed to a slight nibble he'd given to your nippled had the breath punched out of your lungs.

thighs clenching tight, hips grinding erratically, skin sheening with sweat as pleasure ripped through your entire body. it was mind numbing, body souring through space and time before bob's wet kisses to your shoulder and collarbone brough you back to.

he was holding you close, the both of you covered in spit and sweat, your respective releases coating yourselves, no doubt needing another shower and a change of sheets.

"holy... fuck..." you breathed out, the room finally coming back into focus.

"mhm," he hummed in agreement, pulling back to look up at you, "you good?"

you couldn't help but nod enthusiastically, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. "are you? want me to take care of you?"

there was a beat of silence before bob cleared his throat, "i- um, i already- um..."

you rolled your eyes, giggling softly and pressing kisses to his face. he was always embarrassed when he managed to cum without any action, but my god did you find it beyond hot.